Qeya River I know the pieces fit

they did not give their names. he supposed he could beat the sounds from their tired jaws, but his own body ached with bruised weakness.

"learn to heal self. or die," he told the woman. in the moraine he had watched his captive bind the wounds in the rain cloud's head, chasing out the fever he had not been able to stop.

cobwebs. moss. clean them first. keep them clean, the dressings changed. he knew this, but he was not a healer. 

"not doubt me," he told her. "not again." she had pledged to stay. he would find these things.

to the man now, a hard look. "caribou hunters follow caribou. you will learn."

sun eater stepped back. "not give names. i pick them for you." the single eye rested on the man who had come to find him here, contemplative.