She looked down, as pain clouded her face. How could she tell him, who
in naive trust believed that she could follow wherever he led?
'No, I cannot.' But this word she had not taught him, and he would
not have understood. She looked up into the huge, puzzled iris of his
eyes---blue, crater lakes that drowned all efforts to reach him.
Weakly, the more pitiable because it came from one so strong, she said.
'You come, in Winter, this place?'
But he could not get past the non-answer to his own question. Knowing
no other course, he repeated it. 'You come, Kai-tai, Noth?' She
shook her head, and there was nothing more she could do or say. He
looked hurt, but could not bridge the distance between them.
At this the unnamed Eldest, a supple, wizened hunter of fifteen, grew
impatient. This day they must begin the long migration, and it was time
to be gone. He raised a bony left hand to his mouth and emitted a
whistling, clicking sound that was more of the deep than the land, and
which the whales understood as well as he.
Ishmael turned to face her one more time, his own pain not lasting.
Coming closer, he touched her with the tip of his penis, indicating
possession. Then he slowly turned away, and followed the others into
the water. Their restless mounts surged beneath them, and soon they
were drifting out of sight.
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