And through all their simple and wordless
joys of freedom, the creatures that remained knew it must be used as a
time of preparation---that the Cold World would soon be upon them.
Kalus spent the gradually shortening days in tentative hope and
lingering doubt, and wondered at the growing emotions inside him,
brought alive and set in inevitable conflict, he imagined, by the girl.
He had never felt life so close around him, and the feelings it brought
were not without their measure of apprehension and uncertainty. So he
cut and gathered wood, made and refined tools, smoked meat and packed it
with wild salt in the depths of niches and fissures he had discovered in
the mountainside above them. Then covered the hiding places with
stones.
Every pelt, no matter how small, was saved and turned into winter
clothing by the girl, who seemed to be more adept at such things than
he. Sometimes Kamela would hunt with him, to help provide for the
wolves, but always with a dull and hopeless look in her eyes that Kalus
felt very deep in his heart. The long scar on her underside, which he
had seen only once, while she slept, could tell him only a part of the
tale. And of the rest she was closed even with Akar.
But most of all he thought of Skither, and wondered when he would
return.
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