(Chronicler's note: "Halidu society is broken down primarily by clan allegiances which depend basically on location and familial ties. There is no class distinction except for the division between the immediate family of the clan nobility and the lesser clansmen. Among the larger group of clansmen, divisions come only in regards to the livelihoods followed by each. Three differing professions divide these Halidu: herdsmen, farmers and hunters. Each profession is under the belief in and protection of a certain mountain spirit, to whom the clansmen owe loyalty much in the way they owe fealty to their clan chief.

By far, the hunters and trappers were the largest group of clansmen, an extremely independent and self-sufficient breed unto themselves. They hunted the wild zolu, which had resisted all attempts at domestication; and the timid konje, whose snow-white pelts were a favorite both of the Halidu and Thaelu nobility as a status symbol. When attacks on human livestock became a problem too big to ignore, even the fearsome thatz was hunted, and any hunter lucky enough to kill a thatz and live to tell about it was highly honored. The hunters and trappers looked to the spirit Ch'kon, invoking his name when ever they met each other or even strangers. Since they spent much of their time alone in the immense forests, they had a great distrust for those who were unfamiliar to them or did not claim faith in Ch'kon." HISTORY OF THAELIA, Vol. IV.)

The harsh, Halidu winter wore on as if it would never end, with one severe storm that would last for days following close behind the last. Life for Gyrl became an endless succession of days filled with working konje pelts and trying to ignore the increasingly bitter and caustic comments of a slowly convalescing Hariki. The old King even once took a perverse turn of mind and ridiculed Gyrl's marking his finished pelts with his signet ring and cha-mush dye. On that occasion, as well as many others too numerous for him to remember, Gyrl would simply collect his spear and go into the woods to check his snares. Hariki would spend the long hours alone nursing his bitterness and bittersweet fever-dreams of his grandson. With nothing to break the monotony, the dreams were quickly becoming more real to him, and his grip on reality diminished at an equal rate.

Gyrl knew his cabin-mate's health was failing from inactivity, boredom and depression. So set was the daily routine that he was totally unprepared for being awakened very early one morning and finding the door swinging wide open in the harsh winter wind as well as discovering that his King was gone from the hut. Hariki had wandered out into the storm. Gyrl hurriedly threw on the warmest clothes he had and grabbed up his dagger and spear.

The swirling snow made it impossible to see more than one or two paces in front of his feet, and the driving wind burned his lungs with each and every breath. Shouting was of no avail, for the wicked wind snatched each word as it was uttered and made it but a small part of the roar of the storm. Gyrl's heart sank as he realized the near impossibility of finding his old friend and faced the prospect of living absolutely alone.

Perhaps it was luck, or intuition, or guidance from the strange mountain spirits, or just following a regular routine trail, but Gyrl soon found himself on the path to the first of his snares. It was at the base of that very tree which anchored the first snare that he stumbled over the still legs of the fallen man. Thanking Thara and the spirits silently, he bent and hefted the King onto his shoulder, retrieved his spear from where he had dropped it when he stumbled and used it for extra support as he made his way slowly back toward the hut. By the time he had returned to the hut and dumped the senseless King onto his pallet, Gyrl's chest was heaving painfully with each breath, both from exertion and the numbing cold of the wind. He leaned heavily on his spear while he caught his breath, then lumbered to the door and closed it tightly.

Hariki lay in the same position that Gyrl had left him, pale and barely breathing. Gyrl covered him with warm furs and then laid and lit a large fire on the hearth. Since the blast of wind from the open door had scattered and extinguished any hot coals from the night before, it took a long time before Gyrl could turn his attentions completely to Hariki. As the growing warmth helped the circulation to return to his limbs, Hariki began to tremble violently. Both hands remained slightly bluish white, as did the tip of his nose and, when Gyrl checked, all of his toes. Gradually, Hariki's breathing became more apparent; yet it remained deep and quiet except when wracked by a bout of shivering.

Hours passed before the King's shivering abated, hours Gyrl spent heating loose hearthstones and wrapping them in pelts before placing them under the fur robes on the pallet. By the time that Gyrl finally realized he was hungry, the dim light through the window was fading. There was yet some broth in a kettle, which he hastened to put among the embers to heat along with some water for cha. He quickly slaked his own hunger to a degree and then turned to the King to attempt to feed him some of the thickened and hearty soup. Hariki, however, fought all efforts and would not eat. Gyrl had neither the strength nor the patience to struggle for long and soon abandoned the attempt. He merely tucked the warm furs in snugly about the semiconscious man and left him in peace to his delirium.

There was no denying the fact that Gyrl could no longer trust Hariki's actions should the old man wake while he himself slept, and so he made a point of lashing a heavy wooden bar into place across the door to prevent the sickly King from being able to wander into the storm again. He resigned himself to being more vigilant of future suicidal, delirium-fraught actions, and muttered a fervent prayer to any spirits or deities he could remember for Hariki's recovery from this latest setback.

Gyrl was not to get his wish. Days passed with Hariki again either delirious with fever or comatose and unresponsive. At times, the King would rouse into semi-alertness, and it was at those times Gyrl would manage to get Hariki to take some nourishment. Those moments would pass as quickly as they came, and Hariki would again slide into a fevered stupor.

On the fifth day the coughing began, and Gyrl had to face the unpleasant fact that Hariki was not going to recover. Each day the coughing grew worse and drained more and more of the strength that Hariki could ill afford to lose. The spells of alertness also became less frequent. Gyrl found he could do little but sit by and watch the old King die, wishing there were a Healer he could call. Unless some miracle happened, there was little chance Hariki would live for more than a short time.

~~~~~~~~~*

Boku pulled the warm cloak tighter about himself and lowered his head against the biting wind, swearing at himself for volunteering to check to trap lines. The docile karlian which he had been riding had bolted at the crack of an exploding tree and tossed him on his back into the bottom of a ravine. In frustration he thought of several weeks of work that had been so stupidly wasted when the karlian had vanished into the driven snow - all those pelts, all that meat, tied so neatly to the saddle and now gone with the karlian. Boku was so hot with anger that he hardly felt the cold wind nipping wherever it found a gap in his clothing.

A trapper's life was hard even in the best of times, and nearly impossible during the hard, mountain storms. Only marginally allied with the clans, the trappers were the most solitary of the hunters, living in small family groups in isolated huts that dotted the steep landscape. Boku, being the youngest of two brothers and under pressure from his stern father to prove his mettle under snowed-in conditions, had yielded to the unspoken urgings of the others and taken the ungainly karlian they had trained to carry riders to collect the latest harvest from their "far lines." There had been ten of the tiny konjes with the silver-white pelts and two zolu; enough meat and pelts to keep the five members of his family in food and comforts for months.

Boku leaned into the wind and kept moving, trying to remember the last time he and his brother had been on this mountain slope. There was, he remembered vaguely, a line-hut that they had used one night somewhere not too far away; a hut long since abandoned as a permanent residence by its former tenant and used as a shelter by his family only when necessary. Thatz hunted the woods near that hut, and it had become too dangerous for men to stay long in the area. The problem was, where was the hut from his present location; in what direction should he walk? Few landmarks were visible through the driving snow; so Boku had to guess in which direction the hut lay and pray that Ch'kon and all the spirits would lead him to it soon.

Time ceased to have meaning. Boku had no idea how long he had been afoot; only his physically demanding lifestyle and a trapper's legendary stamina had kept him going. He was, however, nearly at the end of that strength when he happened to look up and see off to his right the vague outline of a hut. He had managed to almost pass it by. With his last ounce of strength, he stumbled toward the hut and pushed on the door which he clearly remembered as loose. But it was to no avail. The door was tightly fastened from within.

Gyrl looked up from stirring cha leaves at the unexpected noise at the door. He almost dismissed it as a product of the wind when he heard something or someone pound on the door rhythmically. He stood up and hurried to the door. It took a few moments to unlash the wooden bar and open it, and Gyrl could not help staring at the snow-covered youth that stood shivering on the threshold before standing aside and allowing the stranger to stumble out of the storm.

Boku headed straight to the fire, without looking right or left, and held his hands out to the dancing flames. Gyrl grabbed up a mug from the table and dipped out a steaming share of cha and thrust it wordlessly at his visitor. Boku nodded his thanks and took a careful sip of the hot brew, wincing as the cha burned all the way down to his stomach. The warmth of the fire and the cha gradually spread warmth in the young man's body, and he began to look about the hut in curiosity as he staggered toward one of the rough benches and sat down. "N'chika ì Boku mas," the young man said quietly. He returned a steady gaze to the face of the older and grizzled man who remained watching him warily from the side of the hearth.

Gyrl was faced with a quandary. His knowledge of the Halidu language was somewhat limited, and the young man's speech was in a guttural dialect that he found nearly unintelligible. During the Conflict, he had become fairly fluent in the speech of the nobility, but this knowledge had faded with disuse as those same nobles were forced to learn Thaelu in the years since. "Okila, mìk' Halidu-fo nu anik m’ya? he managed. Pardon, do you understand the high- Halidu? Gyrl prayed that his accent was good as it used to be.

Boku's accent was still clipped, but his manner of speech became clearer. "I said, my name is Boku. Who are you and how do you come to this shelter?"

"My friend and I fled from the low country during the unrest. He was injured, and we found this hut just as he became ill. Since then, the snow has kept us from moving on."

Boku followed Gyrl's gesture with his eyes to where Hariki lay. As if aware of the scrutiny, the old King shifted in his sleep and commenced a harsh, barking cough. Boku's eyes narrowed as he recognized the severity of the illness, and he turned back to Gyrl in concern. "The cough-weakness?"

"Ho." Yes.

Boku looked hard at Gyrl. The older man's carriage and tone of voice bespoke a man of nobility, although reduced to mean living conditions and wearing rags and tatters. Not only nobility, Boku decided; this stranger presented himself in the manner of one who was used to being in charge and obeyed. "You are not a follower of Ch'kon, a trapper," he observed.

"No, but there are few hunters and trappers on the lowlands." Gyrl could see no use for untruth. The young trapper was far too young to be able to recognize him, and merely expressed the caution and suspicion afforded to all strangers. However, for safety's sake, he decided an alias would be wise. "My name is Kyrol, and my friend is Harik. We are-were, I should say-minor nobility." "I knew by your accent you were not Halidu. But be that as it may, you offered shelter to a stranger and saved my life! I am in your debt."

"O ryhn mas." Gyrl shook his head as he quoted the Halidu saying dismissing the obligation. "During the snows, all are allies for survival."

Boku offered his large hand and shook Gyrl's in a strong, steady manner. "Friend Kyrol, whether you see it so, there is life-debt between us. I am bound to repay in any way I can."

~~~~~~~~~*

Shima was unaffected by the insane wind and the driven snows that made it impossible even for his superior eyes to distinguish more than just the shadows of the trunks of the trees as he wound his way smoothly through the forest. It was the first time he had ventured this far from the stone den of the humans he had been sent to live with; but the call was strong, and there was no resisting. For six months he had lived with the humans, watching and learning; six months spent in following and learning to understand the female human called Karinna as she grew bigger and slower in gait with her burden of unborn human cubs.

In those six months, he had begun to approach his mature size and strength which would be considerable even by circle standards. Shima was showing signs of being even more powerful and larger than either of his parents although both had become victims of human hunters. Frraow and Rroai, his mother and father, had after all been leaders of the hunt for long before he was born. Six months, however, was the usual span of time allowed by the circle for a thatz cub to grow beyond the whimsies and play of cubhood and take an active part in adult circle life.

Shima himself had reacted to his increasing maturity by leaving the human den from time to time as the days had grown shorter and colder. He had used these short retreats from the humans to hunt and stalk for himself. But now the psychic call had been issued, as it was for every cub in the circle; and Shima would return to his circle to receive both the judgment and rewards of his abilities and training.

Like a phantom, Shima slipped in and out of the scrub brush into the clearing where he knew the elders would be waiting. Protected from the blinding blizzard by a circle of tall boulders, Grrai and the rest of the elders crouched in council circle awaiting his arrival. An opening appeared in the ring of black fur and muscle, and Shima entered the circle and crouched down facing Grrai in the proper posture of respect. The glowing eyes of the elder did not waver as the thatz's huge head dipped in acknowledgement. "We welcome our younger brother back into the circle on this day of importance. From afar, we have watched unseen as you learned the skills and tactics of the stalk and hunt; and we are well-pleased at your progress in spite of having no tutor in your learning except instinct. We are, therefore, thankful that circumstances allowed you to survive the trial of losing your sire and dam, since we sense that you carry within you the greatness that was once theirs."

Shima dipped his head at the judgment of the circle. "As I was not fostered in the circle, I am not familiar with the proper response to the judgment. But I am ready to accept the decision of the circle as to my status."

"Your response is most fitting, younger brother," Frrai rumbled. "In answering the call from so far, and responding so quickly, it is the decision of the circle that, although you know not many of the formal ways of the circle, you are still to be recognized as a full, mature member of this circle and the tiku of your choice. At your full maturity, you will be allowed the right to mate with a young female of your choice and raise your cubs honorably. We understand that this may mean that your cubs will grow in the shadows of the human den and will allow this if the female of your choice also approves." Grrai rose from his crouch and neared the young thatz. "Prepare yourself for the honor mark that will be a signal to the circle that you have been accepted."

As Shima lay his head down on his paws in submission, Wrrowya also rose and padded up to him. Lifting a great paw, Wrrowya brought it down in a lightening-quick slash on the exposed left cheek of the still, young thatz, his razor-sharp claws leaving four long gashes that trickled blood onto the shiny black fur of Shima's face. The older thatz bowed his head, closed his glowing eyes and recited the ritual words, "May you bear all your scars with as much honor." Shima raised his head, ignoring the slight pain; and Wrrowya slipped back into his place in the circle. Rise, Shima-who-dwells-with-humans, and take your rightful place in our circle."

With pride, Shima arose and found the gap that had been made for him in the ring of thatz. Together the group grumbled their greetings to their newest member. Grrai moved forward and crouched again. "We called you here at this time, not only for the six-month ceremony, but also for another reason. Beyond these boulders and on the other side of this valley lies a human shelter. Before the snows came, we decided to experiment with other humans and led two aged males to this shelter. At first, it was necessary to provide them with one of our kills; but now we only observe and listen.

"The human-who-hunts sometimes talks to himself as he walks our hunting ground, and the name Karinna has been in his speech at times of stress. The other human we have not seen walking the woods more than once, and from the words of he-who-hunts, we gather that he lies infirm where his thoughts are too deep to be spoken. Is not Karinna the name of the female human who has cared for you as a cub?"

"It is, Elder." Shima replied. "When first she dwelled in the human den, she gave another name, but now Karinna is what she answers to."

"Not knowing the ways of humans, we know not if this name is particular to just this one female. So it is that we must ask: is there one this female-named-Karinna speaks of or longs for?"

"When she is alone, she weeps and grieves for her sire whom she fears is dead."

Grrai's next comment was broken off as another thatz grumbled his greeting to the circle and crouched in a rapidly-cleared space. "The humans exit the shelter."

"You will come, Shima-who-dwells-with-humans," Grrai said, rising with the rest of the circle. "We will near the shelter so you may observe these humans and give us some insight from your sizable experience with them."

~~~~~~~~~*

Gyrl thrust the two small bundles of konje pelts once more at Boku, exclaiming "Well, if you won't take them for yourself, take them as payment for the Healer."

Boku could see no reason to deny this, more suitable request, and grabbed the rawhide thong that bound the bundles and held them together and tossed them over his shoulder. Below his other arm he carried yet another furred bundle that held dried meat and a skin of cha for the journey. "The hyl I spoke of lies a day's walk from here. If the spirits do not bring us another storm, I will arrive there tomorrow and return as soon as I can with help."

The two men clasped hands firmly. "I can't tell you how much I owe you for this, friend Boku!" Gyrl choked with emotion and rising hope.

The young trapper shook his head emphatically. "I owe you a life-debt, friend Kyrol. If this small service to you will see that debt repaid, then I am bound to do what you desire."

Shima turned to look at Wrrowya as they crouched in the underbrush. "Are these the two humans you have been helping and observing, Elder?"

Wrrowya blinked while replying. "The one who readies for travel is not of the pair who dwell here, but the older one is the human-who-hunts. It is he who whispers the name of Karinna from time to time."

Boku turned slowly in the darkening clearing to get his bearings; then with a wave of his hand set out at a trot into the forest and quickly disappeared from sight. Gyrl stood watching in the direction the young man had gone. Finally he turned to go back inside the hut. He leaned heavily on the frame of the open door and whispered with emotion. "Karinna, I think only you could help us now. Oh, where are you?" He slumped, defeated, went back in the hut and closed the door behind him.

Wrrowya and Grrai turned and faced each other with Shima as a third party. "Speak then, oh Shima. You know more of humans than any thatz alive."

"There is a possibility," Shima ventured, "that this aged human male is the sire for which human-called-Karinna holds emotions. I can almost see into his mind, and the vision he holds of one he longs for is much like the Karinna who now dwells in the human den."

"What would be your recommendation then?" Wrrowya asked, surprising Shima with the deference in his tone.

"Were I able to mindspeak Karinna, I would tell her of what I have seen and prepare her for the visitor who comes seeking help."

"Do that, then. You it is who will bear the responsibility for this action."

"I have yet to try to mindspeak her," Shima protested. "I believed myself yet too young to be able to touch her thoughts."

"You bear the mark of our affirmation that your skill is strong," Grrai reminded him. "It is our belief that your skill is strong enough to break through any barriers still between your minds."

The young thatz crouched down and bowed his head. "I do your wish, Elder. But I request of you your company, for if my mind cannot yet touch hers, would it not be best if you could do this too? Truly, she must be prepared if this male is her sire; for she bears cubs, and the other humans of the den treat her with much care that she should bear them safely."

Grrai and Wrrowya conferred for a moment.

"Your request is reasonable, young Shima," Wrrowya announced finally. "I come."

At his words, the trio disbanded, and the two thatz followed quickly the trapper's path across the clearing and into the dense woods.

Boku never knew when they passed him in the lengthening shadows. ~~~~~~~~~*

Karinna stared at the sight of Byrol with Falina in his arms and led them quickly into the older woman's bedchamber. She had known for days that the lady of the hyl had not been feeling herself, but the sudden request for her help and the urgency that had permeated the request that she come to Falina's chamber had surprised her. Byrol deposited his wife carefully on the bed and turned to face Karinna's accusing glare. "Why was I not told that she was this ill?"

Byrol found he could not keep his eyes from his stricken wife in concern and fear. "It was Falina's request, honestly. She knew that you would get upset when you discovered she wasn't well and didn't want you to trouble yourself about her at this delicate time."

"Chan's bones! Did she at least have the sense to send someone for Darla?" Karinna's voice was abrupt in her concern and worry. "For something like this to strike with so little warning bespeaks a serious condition."

Larm finished bounding up the staircase and skidded to a halt in front of his mother's open door. "What's happened?" Then he saw his mother lying senseless on the bed, and his hand flew to his mouth in surprise. "What is it? What's wrong with her?"

Byrol looked up at Karinna. "Yes. Do you have any idea what it is?"

Karinna extended her trained senses and closed her eyes, touching Falina in the sensitive points for psychic Checking. "There is a growth, still small but causing considerable pain, in her intestines; there's also signs that she has been bleeding in her stomach." She withdrew her consciousness from Falina and turned to Byrol. "How long did you say that she has been complaining?"

"She started having stomach cramps about a week ago," Byrol remembered with guilty worry. "I told her to come talk to you, but she just said it was something she ate. The dizziness started two days ago, but I didn't find out about it until just this morning." He grimaced at the memory. "She practically fainted away at breakfast, remember, Larm?"

Larm shook his head. "I didn't see it, Father. But." and he turned to Karinna,"I do know she looked awful-like she was fading away right there in front of me."

"Well," Karinna said finally as she shooed the two men from the bedchamber and closed the door quietly, "she's going to be needing complete rest from now on until Darla can come and help. As long as she doesn't do any more than necessary, she will be stable until someone who can do something other than just Check her comes."

"Larm, tell your brother to saddle up a burri and start for Korans'hyl as soon as the storm lets up," Byrol told his son firmly and seriously. "Karinna, I know it is an imposition, but can you take over the overseeing of the household?"

"Shora can help me," Karinna agreed readily. Her hand flew to her rounded stomach as she received a hearty kick in the ribs. Larm, seeing the gesture, nodded in her direction. "Maybe it's just as well that Darla comes for you, too. It's been a while since you've allowed Mother to Check you."

Karinna gave the young man a smile and a shake of the head. "I am alright, just a little battered on the inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing needing a Healer's attention." She looked again at the closed door. "My only concern right now is for your mother."

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