Though Test had sat very still through the telling, at the end, he began to bounce in Sentinel's lap, chanting, "Real, not make believe, real, not make-believe, real, not make-believe."  After a minute of that, totally unaware of the adults grinning at him, he whirled and said, "Nother, please, please, pretty please?  Not a once upon a time, but a for-real. Please?"

 

"Why not make-believe?" Shaman asked curiously, that trace of concern back in his features.

 

"Cause dragons and fairies and things are neat, but they can't happen to me, and maybe, maybe *I* could find a new tribe nobody ever heard of before, or see a place no one has seen, or, or... I don't know what!" he fairly bubbled.  " 'N since I don' wanna' leave Nanny, not til she's got 'nother boy to take care of her, I can hear 'bout somebody else's story."

 

"Adventures, Test, " Shaman corrected gently, smiling.  "If it's a new thing that could happen, you'd call it an adventure.  And you can have them even when you're not planning or expecting them."

 

"Can they happen to kids?" Test asked seriously.

 

Shaman grinned wider, "Oh, yes.  Want to hear one about a little girl not too much older than you?"

 

"Yes!" he shouted, bouncing again, not seeing Sentinel's wince.  "Yes, yes!"

 

"Well, sit quietly then, before you wear out Sentinel's lap," Shaman laughed.  "And let me tell you about a little girl who chased a humming bird."

 

PAST PERFECT

 

Mindful of the young bodies hurtling down the slope, Jim and Blair climbed the incline toward the top of the bluff, each carefully watching where they stepped.  The children of Freedom Tribe had turned the dirt trail into a slippery mud track so they could slide like otters into the river below, creating huge splashes and major laughter when they landed.  Their yells of encouragement and triumph followed Shaman and Sentinel up, and Jim didn't miss the slightly wistful look Blair shot the next rider that sped past them. 

 

It was hot enough that a dip in the river sounded appealing to Jim, too, though he knew it was the merriment that Blair found attractive.  Despite that, they both climbed doggedly, having business with their Captain, who was standing guard at the top.  As they neared, Jim watched Blair carefully *not* look at the youngster positioning the bit of hide she would use to protect her own skin from the roughness of the ground, and he hid a sudden grin.

 

Catching the child's eye and slightly nodding at his companion, Jim waited until they were even with the girl, then snatched way the material from her willing hand.  Throwing it and Blair onto the dirt at the same time, he gave just enough of a push to his mate that the smaller man began skidding back down the trail on his backside.

 

"Damn it, Jim," Blair howled on the way, already nearly laughing.  "I'll get you for..."  His words ended with a wordless yelp and enormous splash.  Hesitating only long enough to be sure that Shaman came back to the surface safely, Jim took off his leather vest and offered it to the little girl in payment.  She smiled happily and dropped to take her own ride. 

 

Jim finished his climb, unabashedly eavesdropping on delight of the children at the abrupt appearance of their favorite playmate.  By the time the last youngster hit the water, they were all asking Blair not to leave just yet, *pretty* please.  Content that his lover wasn't going to be making an escape any time soon, Jim focused his full attention on Simon, stretched out a few feet away.  Though his back was bare to catch a few rays, the Cap'n diligently surveyed up and down the stretch of river where his Tribe was working and playing.

 

Dropping onto the grass beside him, Jim did the same, quickly pinpointing the other men standing guard.  Nodding in satisfaction - all were alert despite the hot, sleepy day - he sat silently beside his friend waiting to be acknowledged.  From the river came happy squeals and whoops as the dunkings, splashings, and general horseplay started in earnest.

 

"You know," Simon said reflectively, eyes never stopping their scanning, "We grew up during the Cold War and lived with the threat of a nuclear Armageddon practically all our lives.  I don't know about you, but once in a while I'd think about what I'd miss from civilization if the bomb did drop.  It was a pretty long list."

 

Jim nodded, knowing Simon didn't need him to say anything as much as he needed to know he was being listened to. 

 

"It never occurred to me back then that one of them would be *this.*" Simon gestured in the general direction of the river. "The sound of children playing without worry or fear."

 

"You sound like Sandburg," Jim said gently.  "He hates the way childhood is a luxury instead of given now.  Hates that learning is catch as catch can, hates that they're growing up without the opportunities to be an artist, or writer, or any of the other professions we used to take for granted."

 

They were both silent for a minute, staring down river where the skyline of Cascade could be seen in the distance.  "What do you say to him when he goes off on it?" Simon asked finally.

 

"Depends."  Below he saw a young boy struggle for a second in the water, and Jim went up on his knees, only to relax when an older girl scooped the child up, giggling and teasing so he'd forget his momentary panic.  "Mostly I remind him it hasn't been even a full generation since the Chaos, since SAR.  We're still finding our way, still learning how to live with all the changes.  And some of them have been *good.*  Look at the kids, Simon, really *look* at them."

 

Following his directions, the Cap'n studied the group in the water, unconsciously smiling as he did. 

 

"Only 14 of them, I know," Jim went on softly.  "Not many, maybe not enough to carry on the legacy of the 68 adults who care about and for them.  But not *one* terrified, abused child among them.  Not one unwanted or neglected or unloved or unhappy or insecure child.  Not one. They're playing in water that could have killed them less than a decade ago, and breath air that doesn't stink or damage their lungs.  Yes, they have dangers and fears to be protected from, but childhood has *always* had its hazards, and they face them with the power of the entire tribe behind them.  That makes them strong. 

 

"We've made them strong in heart, too.  Prejudice is just a word to them; they've never been called nigger or queer or dummy or any other hateful, demeaning label.  Never even heard some of those words.  And justice, honor, respect are *more* than words.  They see adults living those concepts, and taking care of each other, working together to make life as good as possible.  And they'll become that kind of adult themselves, because they *know* they can.

 

"To be able to raise children like ours may not have been worth the fall of a world.  But they are one *hell* of a consolation prize."

 

Nodding as if to himself, Simon turned to lie on his back, trusting Jim to take his watch for a few minutes.  "I guess it's the urge of parents through the ages; to able to do *more* so the next generation has it better.  Ours is going to lack so much."

 

Not wanting him to slip back into his melancholy, Jim said jokingly, "You've just been missing those big, fat cancer sticks of yours, again, Simon.  Or is it flavored coffee?"

 

"Naw.  Oranges.  A new book by the next Ernest Hemingway wannabe.  Satin comforters.  Pretty girl in a short-short skirt strutting down the street cause she *knows* she looks sooooo fine." 

 

"Microwave pop corn."  Jim confessed wryly.  "*Cold* beer.  God, jacuzzis.  Sometimes I think I'd kill to be able to sit up to my chin in hot, bubbling water for just half an hour."

 

"I hear you," Simon agreed and stretched stiffly.  His tone and action made Jim look hard at his friend for what he realized was first time in a long, long time.  Simon looked *old.*  Not simply tired, or careworn, or overworked.  Old.  His hair, what was left of it, was nearly all gray, and deep crevasses had been etched into his face, accenting the scars on one side.  Though he held himself tall and straight, it was an effort, and Jim knew it didn't take sentinel gifts for the pops and snaps of aching bones to be heard when his captain went from sitting to standing.

 

It was a nasty shock to Jim; Simon and he were pretty close to the same age.  It was like looking into a mirror unexpectedly and seeing a truth you'd been hiding from.  Ruefully he rubbed his hand over his own nearly baldhead, not caring to see how wiry and leathery his hands had become.  The only mirror he'd been bothering to use was the eyes of his Blair, and in that reflection he'd always be in his thirties, at the prime of his life.

 

Just as he didn't consciously see the gray liberally threaded through the crown of curls his lover wore, or the myriad of tiny lines around Blair's beautiful lips and eyes.  The physical changes in both of them hadn't been worth noticing.  They did their jobs and lived their lives without thinking about them, even if it wasn't as easy as it had once been.

 

Trying to shake off his own suddenly morbid mood, Jim visually sought out his mate.  He found Blair patiently teaching a small one how to swim, the water streaming around and over his sturdy form making him shine in Jim's eyes.  Like he always would, Jim acknowledged, smiling softly to himself, like he always would.

 

A sharp, shrieking cry yanked his attention up to the sky, and he automatically piggybacked sight onto his hearing to spot a hawk triumphantly screeching to its mate.  It was answered, and another bird shot past it.  In the claws of the first, a large gray rat writhed out the last of its life, blood pouring freely from where the predator's claws had pierced it through. 

 

"Shit!"  He stood, giving the sharp, short whistle that called a runner. 

 

Beside him, his Cap'n labored to his feet, waiting patiently for Sentinel to explain.  With a finger, Jim pointed out the gathering of raptors in the sky to the east, near where the edge of the city was being dissolved by nature.  "Gray Brother is coming," he said shortly.

 

Though Simon couldn't see it yet, a thin gray trickle of filth was seeping from the sewer that Cascade had become, moving steadily toward the river.  The horde of rats scampered and skittered away from their home, following some obscure instinct that no biologist lived to explain.  Along the edges of the mass, hunters were cautiously gathering, ready to pick out and feast on stragglers from the main body.  Feral house cats, true wildcats, packs of wild dogs, even the occasional bear and oversized raccoon warily looked for their chance to snatch a meal without becoming one themselves.

 

For the rats were hungry, very hungry, chewing on anything in their path that might be food.  While one or two were not a problem, the smell of blood from a bite could bring down the entire swarm on the hapless predator.  Like the piranha Jim remembered from his travels, the rats could strip a large animal or man to bones in minutes.

 

When the runner darted up to them, Cap'n tersely ordered the Elders gathered and scouts to prepare for an expedition.  After the young man had left, Banks commented sourly, "Maybe we shouldn't worry about it; we could just go onto the next camp.  We've gotten plenty of fish already and there's nothing we need from the city we can't look for elsewhere."

 

By mutual consent they let the children continue to play; the trouble was far enough way and there was little enough opportunity for them to enjoy themselves.  "Gray Brother isn't that much of a problem," Jim calmed him.  "We keep an eye on the tide's whereabouts and stay out of the way.  And we do need to go into the city to find vitamins or meds if we can, along with some luxuries, like paper."

 

"Yeah, you're right." Banks agreed, resigned.  "Guess I just want to get away from the reminder of what I miss, that's all.  You going with the scouts?"

 

"Sandburg and I want to find out if I can see - or smell or whatever - clues on why the rats do this instead of dying off like you'd expect.  Far as we know, it's not normal behavior for them before the Chaos.  Travelers have been reporting it happening in what's left of other big cities, too.  He's hoping for a way to predict it, or fight it better."

 

"As far as we know," Simon repeated, sounding tired again.  "There has *got* to be some way to keep knowledge from dying completely, Jim.  There has got to be a way."

 

It was a familiar lament he'd heard too many times from too many people, and Jim didn't bother to comment.  With a touch to his friend's arm he left to collect his partner, feeling too aware of his caution as he followed the path down to the water.

 

***

 

His hyper awareness of himself nagged at Jim for the rest of day, all during Council and preparations for their morning departure.  Without consciously deciding, he kept testing his senses, trying to judge if he was seeing as well or hearing as well as he had when he had first accepted their return.  But he didn't trust his memory of that time, and couldn't gauge if what he was perceiving now was as good as he thought it was. 

 

It made him grumpy to the point his mate pushed him down onto their bedding at his lookout while he was changing and sat on him, hands on hips.  "What?" Blair demanded briefly, using the shorthand speech long-time lovers develop.  'Why are you acting like such an ass and what can I do to help?' Jim mentally translated, smiling for the first time since the afternoon.

 

"I love you, Chief, know that?" Jim answered idly, one hand gently burrowing under the loose tunic his partner wore. 

 

"Man, Simon gave you a bad time about us refusing to Father any more, didn't he?" Blair asked worriedly.  "You should have waited til I arrived; then he would have had to fight both of us, at least."

 

Startled Jim realized he hadn't gotten around to speaking with Simon the topic he'd gone there up there for in the first place.  "No, no that's not it," he admitted guiltily.  "I didn't have a chance to bring it up.  Honestly, it's not likely to be a problem, Chief.  Two of the kids in the Tribe are probably yours, three, mine. That's enough, I think, for anybody, even Sentinel and Shaman."

 

"Don't know if the ladies would agree with you on that as far as you're concerned." Blair teased, beginning to ever-so-slightly rock on the bare groin he was straddling.  "The way you treat them during sex, and especially the way you behave when one of your Mothers is expecting - let's just say I've already got two lovely women courting me like mad, and it's *months* before the next Choosing."

 

Grunting disinterestedly, Jim found a waiting nipple hiding on his lover's chest and pinched it just hard enough to pull a sigh from Blair.  Despite it, his companion kept talking.  "And none of the children that could be ours are old enough to sara.  What if we loose them to allergies that can't be controlled?"

 

"Then we can talk about Fathering again," Jim muttered.  "We've been through this, Blair.  As far as I'm concerned, the women I'm comfortable with are getting too old for babies, and the others are too *young* for me.  For chrissake, most of them I tended in the Nursery!"  Working his other hand under the fabric covering his mate, Jim targeted the other tight bud, adding his own minor thrusts to their loving.

 

"Uhn!"  Blair arched his back, but stubbornly kept on topic.  "Most men, ahhhhh, wouldn't find -damn!- bedding a nubile young lady a chore, Jim."  Hastily the smaller man skinned out of his shirt, pulling it over his head and flinging it to the floor, then squirmed out of his pants.

 

"Don't want them," Jim mumbled, distracted by the arousing sight of two nubs being twirled and twisted by his own fingertips, Blair's hard cock bobbing below.  "Want you.  Want to go to sleep in your arms, wake up there, and not have to be with someone else before or after.  Want to love you when I want to love you and not when it's our turn to love."

 

"Amen," Blair breathed, not having enough air to be louder.  "Harder, babe."

 

"Mmmmmmm, like this?"  He leaned up, catching one nipple in his teeth, tugging carefully. 

 

"Oh!"  Blair wrapped one arm around Jim's head to hold him to his task, and used the other to brace them.  "Again?  Aaa!!!  Yes!"

 

"Do you *want* to keep sharing, babe?" Jim asked slyly, on the way from one rosy mouthful to another. "Is that why it's still so good with us?"  He bit a little harder, sucking strongly for a brief second after he did.  "'Cause we can't have it any time we want?  'Cause we know we're going to have to give it up again, for a while?" He bit again, even harder, then started nursing in earnest.

 

"You're full of it, Jim Ellison."  Blair groaned, restlessly petting the head at his tit.  "It's good because you get to me like nobody ever did or could.  Hell, you know I have to keep something in my mouth when I'm with a woman, so I won't scream your name.  Oh, God, that's good!  P.. please... more.. bites? p.. p... JIM!"

 

"Taste good."  Jim licked at the breastbone between nipples, went to the twin of the one he'd been abusing.  "Damn good.  Wanna come this way?"

 

A wild moan was his answer, and Blair began grinding down onto him urgently.  Jim felt a surge of answering need, went with it since he was in no hurry to finish.  On the trail they would have no opportunity for more than snuggles and quick hand jobs, and he *liked* savoring his mate's pleasure.  Contentedly he immersed himself in the wonderful sensory array of their lovemaking, letting his own hunger wait.

 

Using the tempo of Blair frantic hips, he worked first one tit, then the other with his mouth, stopping just short of breaking the skin or leaving bruises.  Blair loved it, wordlessly encouraging him and making thrilling cries of want and pleasure.  He felt the rush of tenseness that heralded his lover's climax, and pinched/bit hard as the first rush of semen raced up its path.  "Jim,jim,jim,jim,jim," Blair chanted with each spurt, hardly able to form the word.  

 

Jim took over the job of supporting the sagging man, lying back to cushion Blair on his own chest.  Pumping onto the limp body enough to keep himself hard, he waited patiently for his lover to recover.  He roused slowly, which suited Jim.  Part of him didn't care if he finished at all tonight; holding Bair, knowing he *could* was almost as good as sex as far as he was concerned. 

 

Of course, Blair had his own opinions about that, he realized a moment later when his mate snuck a hand down to circle the hard-on poking him.  "What'll it be?" Blair murmured lovingly.  "Hands? Mouth? Ass?  Don't know if I can get off with you, but I'd love any of it."

 

"How am I supposed to make up my mind with a menu like that?"  Jim rumbled. 

 

"Eeny, meeny, minie, moe? Or maybe you wanna go for something kinky?" Blair offered, mischievously.

 

"Tit torture isn't?"

 

"Yours are too sensitive.  You either have to turn it down and don't feel anything at all, or turn it up and it all hurts.  I could tickle them, maybe."  So saying he picked up a lock of his hair and brushed it over Jim's chest, painting a design that eventually included both nipples.

 

"Nice," Jim approved, "but not that nice."

 

"Okay, I could spank you or let you spank me."

 

"With or without handcuffs?" Jim asked, pretending seriousness.

 

"Your choice, of course.  Though I have to tell you, cuffs might be a good idea if I'm the spankee since I'll be inclined to turn around and punch you in the nose for hitting me."

 

A laugh escaped, and Jim hugged him loosely.  "My face is ugly enough without that, Chief, so we'd better skip bondage and discipline."

 

"Guess you'll have to make do with a good old-fashioned blow job then," Blair announced, and he unexpectedly swooped down to expertly swallow Jim to the root. 

 

"Blair!" Helplessly Jim tangled his fingers in the curls covering his crotch, trying not to plunge too deeply into the wet heat holding him.  The suction destroyed his intentions of patiently savoring of their lovemaking, exploding his excitement through him in massive sweeps of sensation.  "God!  Suck it, babe, ...god, god... suck it!"

 

A single finger wound its way between his thighs, and he wantonly spread them to give it access to his center.  It slipped into him effortlessly, going for his hot spot in a single glide.  "BLAIR!" he screamed, and lost any semblance to control over his movements.  He rammed into his lover's mouth erratically, trusting the skill they'd honed together to protect Blair from choking.

 

The one digit was joined by two others in rapid succession, opening him and sending him into a frenzy of riding down onto them, then plunging up fill Blair's throat over and over.  Animal grunts forced their way from his chest, building in volume and shrillness until Jim shrieked like an over-stressed engine, his come exploding out of him and into his mate.  Blair drank it happily, milking out every drop and adding his own murmurs to the babble from Jim's lips.

 

All his strength left with his seed, and Jim melted into their bed, sucking in huge gulps of air and moaning.

 

With a last lick, Blair sat up, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand in a sweetly lascivious manner.  "Man, I *love* doing that to you." He stretched out beside his partner, finding a shoulder for a pillow.  "I *love* you.  And you're right; enough is enough.  I don't want to have to lay in a woman's arms longing to feel yours, ever again."

 

All Jim could do was chuckle weakly, and brush a kiss over the crown of Blair's head.  "Sounds good to me, Chief.  Now what are we going to say to the *three* ladies courting me for you?"

 

"That you've drained me dry and left me permanently limp?"  Blair quipped.

 

"They'd hang me.  Besides, they'd hear me scream the next time you took me."

 

"That I've developed an allergy to women?"

 

"Sandburg!"  In spite of himself, Jim laughed.  "Why don't we try the truth?  We love each other too much to get it up for anybody else anymore."

 

Oddly, that silenced his mate, and he wound himself tighter around Jim's body.  After few strange-feeling seconds, Blair asked in a small voice, "Lara told you?"

 

That kept Jim mute, and he sorted through the shocked words knocking around his head to find the right ones to say.  "I was referring a problem *I've* been having.  Until today, I was thinking it was because my bedmate wasn't you."

 

"Until today?"

 

To his surprise, Jim found himself blurting out the details of his conversation with Simon earlier, and how he'd been monitoring himself since.  "Maybe my lack of interest in the ladies is because of the age thing, too.  I don't know, Chief," he finished finally.

 

Blair listened to him patiently throughout his recital, tracing the lines of Jim's chest muscles as he did.  Adjusting himself so that he could lean his head on his hand when Jim was done, Blair looked down into the bigger man's face, lightly fingering the lines Jim knew were there.  "Believe or not, you two aren't the only ones I've heard mourning the passing of years, mourning what we've lost.  I don't think it's the time so much as we're tired of how we're living it.  Unlike the kids who've never had anything else, we know there can be *more* than just surviving, and we're beginning to want it.  Even need it."

 

Nodding his agreement slowly, Jim captured the hand near his face and began to nibble on the palm.  "For some of us... Blair, I think Simon has arthritis.  What is going to happen to him when the pain is too much?  It's not like he can retire to Arizona and sit in the sun and read."

 

"In some ancient tribes, old people who felt they weren't contributing anymore would go off on their own to die." Blair said worriedly.  "It would be like Simon to think he needs to do that."  He sat up, absently pushing his hair over his ear.  "We've been extraordinarily lucky, you know.  Outside of SAR, the tribe has stayed healthy and strong.  What diseases we've had to deal with have been short and fightable, like pneumonia - or fast and deadly, like when we lost Tia to leukemia a few years back.  Even our permanent injuries have been do-able.  Brown gets around fine without his leg, much as he bitches about it.  What are we going to do if someone gets Alzheimer's or has kidney failure?"

 

Stifling his grumble since they should finish packing for their trek anyway, Jim sat up, too, and rubbed between the smaller man's shoulder blades, trying not to notice how fragile those bones were becoming.  "You've fretted about this for years; when the time comes that we have to deal with it, we will."

 

Irritated, Blair glared at him.  "And *that's* the problem, don't you see?  It's time to stop reacting and start acting, Jim."

 

"Like when we decided to create a tribe in the first place?"

 

"Exactly!"  Blair climbed to his feet, and held out a hand to help Jim do the same.  Dejectedly he muttered, "I just don't know what action to take.  How do you start planning a future when you're barely making it through today?"

 

Taking his turn at being thoughtful, Jim gathered Blair into a last hug, then began to collect his clothes.  "Well, I guess the thing to do is ask realistically what *do* you want to be doing in 5 years, or 10 or 15.  Maybe if you start there, you can work backwards to find your way."

 

Stopping in the middle of putting on his pants, Blair stared at him blankly for a second, and Jim mentally prepared arguments to prove that his idea wasn't as stupid as it sounded.  Instead of debating, though, Blair grabbed a hard kiss.  "Sometimes you're absolutely brilliant, you know?  Come on, we need to talk to Simon before we leave."

 

Feeling pleased, perplexed, and thoroughly satisfied, Jim hurriedly dressed and trailed after his partner.

 

***

 

Between his conversation with Simon and the subsequent one with Blair, Jim couldn't help but study the other members of the scouting party the next morning.  Literally falling back on the trail to be able to do so without being caught, he watched the three men and two women as they moved silently and quickly through the forest.  For the first time he realized that they were traveling much slower than they could have, obviously making allowances for his and Shaman's comfort.  Nor was that the consideration he and his partner were given.  Though all were more than competent to make their own decisions, they constantly deferred to Blair and he, following their suggestions without complaint.

 

The knowledge both irritated and pleased him.  Irritated because he didn't want to hold them back in any way; pleased that the fighters would show that much respect.  Both emotions made it clear what he should do. 

 

He casually commented that he and Shaman didn't need to be *with* the party, as long as their location was known.  A few minutes later the others parlayed among themselves briefly, then announced they would go ahead.  Moving at top speed, they would map the exact size and location of Gray Brother quickly and rejoin Sentinel and Shaman with the information to discuss options.  Making sure their weapons were ready, though the other animals hunting the rats habitually gave Man a wide berth, they left with no more than that and a nod of acknowledgement from Jim.

 

"Easier than I thought it'd be," Jim remarked to himself, taking the path at a leisurely pace.

 

"Making that first move to stand aside?" Blair asked gently.

 

"Admitting I want to stand aside." Jim confessed.  He slung an arm over the smaller man's back, automatically picking out the best footing for them both as they walked.  "It's selfish, I know, but it's like Fathering.  Been there, done that, paid the judge off.  Enough is enough."

 

"Good," Blair said so definitively Jim had to stop and stare at him. 

 

"Good?"

 

"I shared Detective Ellison with the PD, I shared Sentinel with the tribe, I shared your body with all the ladies who wanted children.  When do I get all of Jim all to myself?"  The bitterness in the words was even more shocking, and Jim responded by wrapping his lover in his arms.

 

"You know you were always first, right Chief?  Even when I had to act differently?"

 

Blair hugged back and nudged Jim into walking again.  "Except for the wee hours of the morning when *everything* is depressing.  Yeah."

 

Snorting Jim said, "That's the only good thing to be said for being exhausted.  You sleep right through the worst part of the day."

 

"Well there *are* ways to get through it," Blair said consideringly, making an effort to lighten their conversation.  He waited a heartbeat, then informed Jim archly, "Reciting poetry, for example."

 

"How do I love thee," Jim intoned solemnly, "Luxurious curls, sweet lips, lively hips..."

 

Honestly laughing, his mate punched at him, and they continued their journey until the scouts began trickling back to join them.  By mutual consent, they pitched camp in late afternoon to compare notes over a meal. 

 

Stush, who had rejoined Freedom Tribe the last time their trail and New Hope's had touched, gradually began to stand out in Jim's mind as the one the other scouts listened to most.  The ex-scavenger from Cascade had grown into a handsome man, who bore his scars from his lost, dangerous childhood with pride.  His only vanity seemed to be his dark hair, and he wore it long with several wraps decorating it, their color complimenting the brown of his eyes.

 

When he had quietly come to Freedom's Elders and asked to range with them, there had been some surprise from both tribes.  Stush was well liked, for all his serious, retiring ways, but Blair had seen a heart-deep hurt in the young man and had unobtrusively smoothed the way for his return. 

 

//New Hope's loss,// Jim reflected. //Maybe it's time I call Simon's attention to how well Stush thinks and listens, how much he takes on without being asked.  If I suggested he needs a chance to prove himself, maybe Simon would lean on him even more; that'd take a burden off Simon, too.//

 

"Unless something happens to turn the rats," Stush debated formally with Matt, one of the youngest of the adults in the tribe, "I don't think we should interfere with whatever Mother Earth has in mind."

 

Matt blinked, his soft blue eyes showing shy confusion, but he pressed his point regardless.  "They're very dangerous and cause a lot of damage in their passing.  We can't stand by and do nothing."  He spoke so quietly, the others had to strain close to his red head to hear, but no one complained.

 

"Why not?" Stush asked reasonably. "Why should we destroy, risking ourselves to do it?  They're heading straight for the river; those that don't drown, will be scattered to be eaten by the birds and animals.  All we need to do is keep watch and be prepared to deal with them *if* we have to."

 

Mrisa stood to restlessly pace.  "How can you fight a swarm like that, anyway?" she demanded, practically stomping in her agitation.  "They just flood right over everything!"  They all watched her with tolerant amusement.  The tall, dark-skinned woman never sat for long, and most of the tribe made private bets as to how many hours she spent running or striding. 

 

"Not hard," Stush said lazily, slipping back into city patois.  "Fire."

 

"Fire?"

 

"Fire," Laz, the other woman present stated flatly.  Outstandingly ugly and very grateful for it because of her childhood in the ruins of Cascade, Laz was known for being blunt and outspoken, and she proved it now by telling Mrisa flatly, "Rats are only dangerous if you're stupid enough to get caught un-prepared.  They only climb if they have to, so trees are the best place to go if you're going to run."

 

Glaring, Mrisa started to say something to Laz, then changed her mind and spoke to Stush instead.  "What if they turn?"

 

"Turn 'em back."

 

"Back?"  Trike finally spoke up.  "What'd you do; built a wall?" he asked sarcastically.

 

"Nope.  Jus' give 'em a reason t'go t'other way."

 

The four young people looked as if they were going to actually pounce their comrade to get him to explain more clearly.  A few feet away, sitting under a tree with Blair leaning on him complacently, Jim grinned.  Stush had very neatly, and without a fight or hard feelings, gotten everyone to assume they were going to leave the rats alone.  //Simon definitely needs give more responsibility to that young man.//

 

"Point to Stush," Blair murmured only for Jim.  "If he keeps this up, Matt's crush on him is going to turn into a bonfire."

 

"Crush?  He's gay?  That why he just slipped into adulthood the way he did?" Jim whispered against his partner's ear.

 

Blair shrugged.  "I don't know if orientation had anything to do with it; the abused ones are hard to predict.  Most ask for a Transition just to get it out of the way and get out of nursery.  But Matt seemed more comfortable with simply asking to do adult chores and gradually moving into his own place.  Officially becoming a grown up wasn't important to him, and he was taken more seriously because of stepping in without the fanfare."

 

"Loved the way you handled it when a couple of people tried to tease him."  Jim smiled at the memory of Blair nonchalantly remarking at the community fire it was nice to see a young person so sure of his manhood.  The seemingly idle observation set several smug boys who thought with their dicks on their ears.

 

"Your way was more eff..."   Jim sat up abruptly, nearly dumping Blair to the forest floor and cutting him off mid-word. 

 

"I hear a child screaming," Jim said distractedly, dialing up on his hearing.  "Young one."  Jumping to his feet, he gave the warning whistle and ran in the direction of the cries for help.

 

"Damn!  Jim, this is the direction to Gray Brother," Blair said from the rear.

 

"Good reason to be screaming," Jim answered shortly.

 

His age forgotten, Jim raced for the child, noting the footsteps of the others falling in behind, fanned out to the sides for safety.  One - Laz - had stayed behind long enough to secure the camp and fire, probably because she was the fastest runner.  Between Sentinel hearing and the clear air carrying sound so far, it took them a frighteningly long time to reach the source of the increasingly panicked shrieks.

 

It was a young girl, about five or six years old, half way up a tall tree that stood less than a hundred feet from the main flow of Gray Brother.  That close to it, the ground was alive with stragglers, all skittering and scampering through the leaves and underbrush.  A few, thankfully very few, rats had followed her smell and had climbed the tree after the child, chasing her out onto the far end of a branch.

 

Even under her scant weight it dipped and shifted, threatening to dump her into the midst of the animals below.  That, as much as the sharp teeth creeping toward her, had the girl near hysterics.  Despite that, every time a rat got too close for her comfort, she boldly knocked it off with a stick she clutched in one hand.

 

Seeing it all as he approached, Jim scooped up the nearest rodent by the tail and smacked it into the dirt hard enough to break open its brains. He tossed the carcass hard, as far away from the little girl and his troop as possible.  The blood trailed through the air as it flew, the scent of blood and few drops of it that fell causing a visible shifting of rats in that direction.  Following his lead, the other fighters did the same, all moving as fast as possible to keep the animals from latching onto them.

 

Assuming it would take too long to talk her down, even with Blair's help, Jim continued his kills until he could climb the tree himself, hastily slapping down more vermin as he did.  Working his way out on a branch under her, he simply plucked her off, letting her wrap her arms around his neck in terror. 

 

"Up!" he shouted down to his people, preventing choking by putting a hand between his throat and her arms.  He pointed toward back to the camp.  "Over."  At Blair's nod of understanding, he sidled back to the trunk, then climbed high enough for his weight to make the top sway.  Deliberately he rocked his weight back and forth, sending the top into a pendulum motion, so that he could easily swing, burden and all, to the crown of the nearest tree, the girl squealing all the way. 

 

Below him the fighters ran dangerously close to the swarm, firing guns and arrows into its midst.  With their appetites awaken by the corpses flung earlier, the flood of scent from fresh blood and squeals of feasting made the horde turn in on itself, fighting and chewing, like sharks in a feeding frenzy.  The chaos even pulled in the majority of the stragglers, and the scouting party was able to dart away, knowing their scent would get lost in the melee.

 

To be sure, they climbed young saplings as well, using Jim's trick to jump several yards away from where their trail ended on the ground.  By the time they met back at the original camp, Jim could tell they'd escaped virtually unscathed, and that the diversion had redirected Gray Brother's path more surely toward the water.

 

Half deafened by the yelling in his ear, he finally sat down and gingerly unwound small arms from around his neck.  "Hush, baby, hush," he cooed as comfortingly as he could.  Using his old trick, he began to rumble deep in his chest, rocking as he did.  Panting harshly, Blair collapsed beside him, instantly giving both his partner and the child a quick going over to assure himself they were uninjured. 

 

Between her own fatigue and Jim's comforting, she calmed slowly, her screams dissolving into hiccupping whimpers.  "Want me mommy," she demanded finally. "Want me mommy."

 

"Who is your mommy, baby girl?" Blair asked, gently smoothing her blonde hair away from her dirty, tear-stained face. 

 

The question seemed to upset her all over again, and she began to fight Jim's arms.  "Mommy, mommy, mommy!"

 

It was the only understandable word they got from her that day.  She alternated between screaming, whimpering, demanding and pouting it, when she wasn't out cold from pure exhaustion.  Resigned, Matt and Trike carried her back to Freedom's current camp, leaving the rest of their party to finish their original task.

 

Two days later, sure Gray Brother was going to harmlessly self-destruct and having learned nothing useful, Shaman and Sentinel straggled back to camp to learn Catherine (the rescued child's name) had not done much more than that since arriving.  No one had gotten any practical information from her, and she was about as universally disliked as a child could be. 

 

"Spoiled past saving," Simon grumbled, sharing a pot of soup and current news with his friends that evening in the community longhouse.  "All we can be sure of is that she's not from Ravagers - too plump and well cared for that - or from Travelers.  Too helpless and useless.  Can't even dress herself yet!"

 

"Holders?" Blair questioned, sniffing at the food, then blowing on a spoonful to cool it.

 

"Sandburg, the Travelers say there isn't a holding for a hundred miles in any direction.  A Hold is a sitting duck for the Ravagers, and you can't get and keep a large enough population right now to farm.  It takes too many man-hours, especially if you have to hunt for meat and have guards too."  Simon said irritably.  "A kid couldn't have made it that far on her own.  Besides her clothes were in pretty good shape, and she was hungry, but not starved."

 

"The Nannies say she's completely confused by the Nursery; I think she was the only child among a lot of adults."  Blair volunteered.

 

"That could explain a lot," Jim agreed, scooping up his own meal.  "But no help finding her family.  Is she showing *any* signs of adapting?"

 

Simon shrugged.  "Even Nanny Baker is getting fed up with her.  Sandburg, think you can help some way or another?"

 

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm only a Shaman, okay?  Not a kiddie shrink."

 

"Humph.  Better than most shrinks I knew."  Banks paid attention to his own dish, then abruptly put it aside.  "Speaking of which, what have you been saying to Stush?  He came to me a few hours ago with the most outlandish idea I've ever heard."

 

Hiding a grin, since both he and Blair had not only heard it, but thought it was a good one, Jim replied non-committally, "About making libraries at each of our camps?  Yeah, it's pretty wild.  Has some notion that since no one head can hold everything, books would be a good back up."

 

"What's so wild about that?" Simon demanded.  "Having a medical text in case something happened to Dan or Billy is better than total ignorance.  Yeah, yeah, I know they both have some basic texts they carry with them, but paper is on the fragile side. 

 

"The only thing wrong with what Stush wants is that it's a logistical nightmare." Simon argued.  "Books are *heavy* and it's too dangerous to go into the city just for them.  We'd have to get duplicates, enough for each camp, *transport* them, then find ways to protect them while we're gone the two years it usually takes us to range a complete circuit. 

 

"And who's going to keep track, be Librarian, so that if we *do* need something from them, we'll know where to look? Or decide what we might eventually need, for that fact?  Do nomads need engineering or chemistry or metallurgy? 

 

"On top of all that, when are the kids going to find time to learn to read?  I mean, I guess it could be made a part of their daily life somehow; I know we all tell stories all the time anyway.  Might as well *read* them stories."  Exchanging hidden smirks, the partners let their friend rant and rave, slowly convincing himself that it not only could be done, but should be done.

 

Midway through his meal, Jim peered from under his lashes into the night outside the main door.  Unseen to everyone else, Catherine hovered at the edge of it, Matt silently shadowing her without her knowledge.  Jim caught his eye and nodded, taking responsibility for the child, and Matt ghosted away toward his tent.  Waiting for a lull in conversation, he said quietly, head still over his bowl, "If you're hungry, Catherine, come on in.  No one would ever refuse to feed you."

 

She gasped, shrinking back, then set her chin and stomped in like an irate princess.  "Of course not, silly.  Why would they?"  With no more than that, she squirmed into Blair's lap and took his bowl.  "Soup!  Blech!  No roast meat?" she complained, giving the bowl back.

 

"Not today," Blair said calmly, re-filling the dish and setting it aside for her, anyway.  "We try not to hunt too often so we don't do too much damage to the animal population in our territory."

 

"I want roast!"

 

"Catherine," Blair warned her quietly, putting her aside and standing.  "You're being unpleasant and selfish.  I won't put up with that, young lady.  You came here looking for me, and if you don't want me to leave and not talk to you, you had better behave."

 

She looked up at him mutinously, then deliberately turned over the bowl.  Gathering Jim to him with a nod, they both left, hearing Simon say as they did, "You'd better go back to Nursery.  I'm putting out the fire and leaving as well."  The partners stopped just far enough away from the otherwise empty longhouse that they could watch over Catherine without her being aware of it if she stayed behind.  Minutes later, Simon walked out of the darkened structure, waiting for a second to let his eyes adapt.  "Shaman?  Sentinel?" he called softly.

 

"Here."

 

Stepping carefully over the rough ground, Simon came close.  "Any clues so we can get that prima donna back to her own people and out of our camp before the other children learn some bad habits?"

 

"River mud was splashed on her clothes," Jim told him.  "And there was a smell of tar pitch in her hair - hasn't *anyone* been able to get her to bathe?"

 

"Get real.  She acts like she's being murdered if you so much as suggest it." Simon reported dryly.  "We've only been letting her get away with it because the Nannies don't want to add another trauma on top of being lost and nearly eaten."

 

"In this case," Blair put in placatingly, "it was a benefit. 

 

"Her people must be river dwellers, nomads like us except their range is a river.  Explains how they got so deep in our territory without us or the other tribes knowing.  And the life style makes sense.  Hell of a lot harder to attack someone out in the middle of a wide body of water, and there's lots of food growing or grazing along the banks."

 

"So all we have to do is work back from the last rat tide.  My guess is that they're down river of where we found her, around that bend." Jim said thoughtfully.  "Despite how eager as every one is to get rid of her, Cap'n, I'm going to wait until she comes to Blair again to do anything about this.  She has to learn some discipline or the trip to find her family is going to be a nightmare."

 

Stretching stiffly, Simon agreed with a nod.  "Don't know if the ignore/silence technique we use on our own will be any good with her.  First case I've seen in a long time where spanking seems like the best alternative."

 

"She's too smart for shunning not to work, if we stick to our guns," Blair argued.  "Young as she is, she knew to climb that tree and fight off the advance rats.  And she came looking for us, so she has to have been paying enough attention to learn we're her best bet for getting back home."

 

"You may be right, Sandburg," Simon conceded.  "But I'd still have to refuse the duty of spanking; I'd enjoy it too much."  With a wave he headed toward his own bed.  "Bet you my share of the next sweet dessert she's pigheaded enough to stay in there all night."

 

Head tilted to one side, Jim said thoughtfully, "Too scared.  That's one little girl that's never been alone in the dark before in her life.  Night, Simon.  Come, on Chief."  At Jim's gesture, they both showed themselves at the door to reassure Catherine, then stood with their backs to it, waiting silently for her to decide what to do. 

 

Hearing her heartbeat drop and her mutter fussily to herself, Jim inwardly braced himself for a long night, telling Blair with a smile he didn't have to stay.  His mate shrugged and leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back to study the stars.

 

Almost 45 minutes later Catherine finally broke, stalking out and taking Blair by the hand as if she owned him.  "I want to go to bed."

 

"Then go."  Jim told her shortly.

 

"Put me to bed! I wanna..."

 

"Catherine," Jim said warningly, cutting her off mid rant.  "Shaman left once; he can still call someone else to keep you company now."

 

She shut up immediately, glared at him, then dropped her eyes when Jim simply stared at her steadily.  "Please take me to bed?"  

 

Her words were sullen, but Blair nodded they would do and picked her up.  "Nanny's lodge with the littlest babies or the Nursery with the older children?" he asked.

 

"I can't sleep with you?"  This time she sounded genuinely tired and confused, and she put her head down on Blair's shoulder, yawning.

 

"Here children sleep with children; grown-ups sleep with grown-ups, Catherine," Blair whispered, brushing her tangled hair away from her eyes, walking beside his partner as he did.

 

"Why?"

 

"Cause you wiggle too much!"  Blair joked.  "And adults snore too loud!"

 

For the first time she giggled.  "It's nice having other kids around," she admitted.  "Grownups always have too much to do to play or tease or watch bugs or name stars or take a swim."

 

"Your grownups live on boats?" Jim questioned carefully, hesitating at the gate to the nursery compound. 

 

"Uh, huh.  I like it way better than living on dirt.  The boat rocks like this and like that, and it feels good when you're scared of how quiet it's gotten."

 

"That does sound pretty good.  I'll have to try it sometime.  Catherine, do you remember if you were floating down the river before you ran into the rats or if you were pushing upstream?" Jim probed cautiously, undoing the gate and acknowledging the sentry.

 

"Floating - Leader said we needed fool for the mergency 'gines and that a city might be a good place to find some.  Heard weren't no Ravagers' round this one, and we was going there."

 

"How'd you get separated from them?" 

 

Blair's question was barely a sound, and Catherine yawned again, answering automatically, "There was a pretty floaty bird and I chased it, but it went so *fast*, flying bzzzzzz bzzzz bzzzzz, drink a flower, dance and catch the sun, bzz bzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzz..."  Her words trailed off into a child's breathy snore, and Blair surrendered her gratefully to Nanny Baker.

 

"We'll be leaving with her early tomorrow," Jim told the Nanny sotto voce.  "*Please* make sure she's had a bath!"

 

"Be sure you wear earplugs, Sentinel," the old man said curtly.  "Screams likely to hurt my ancient ears; can't imagine yours liking it much better."  For all his harsh words, he cradled the small body lovingly, draping his own shawl over her. 

 

"Maybe just take her swimming.  She likes that, I think," Blair volunteered as an after-thought, already snuggling into Jim's side. 

 

Clucking under his breath, Baker patted Shaman's shoulder awkwardly.  "Trust you to find a way to get this contrary child to talk."

 

"Because he's not so far removed," Jim laughed very, very softly into his lover's curls, and urged Blair toward their lookout.

 

***

 

In the end they used the river that she lived on to take Catherine home.  Freedom tribe had hidden a few motorboats and fuel for them the first time they ventured to the river's edge as part of their range.  The ships had been lovingly maintained, almost more as mementos than as potentially useful tools.  The decision to use the boats had provoked a bit of an argument - which Nanny Baker inadvertently solved by giving their stray a bath in the middle of the debate.

 

By noon, Shaman and Sentinel found themselves seated in the bow of a small pontoon boat, holding a sulking Catherine between them.  Stush steered the what was to him an unique vehicle with glowing enthusiasm, torn between listening to Cap'n's instructions and learning for himself, finding reasons not to let anyone else try their hand at it.  Badgering and teasing him about it became a sport for the four fighters with them, which Stush good-naturedly fielded and tossed back.

 

Even Catherine started smiling after a while. 

 

Opting to make their approach open and unarmed, trusting Sentinel to warn them, they navigated a course straight down the middle of the river until the other boats were spotted.   When they were close enough that both parties could see each other clearly, Sentinel stood, balancing carefully and raising Catherine to his shoulder.  Then he pointed to shore and motioned for them to follow as Stush piloted that way very, very slowly.

 

Relaying to his people the excited, anxious conversations held among the other tribesmen, Sentinel listened intently, one hand on Shaman's shoulder for grounding.  "They're coming," he reported finally, "Worried it's a trap and wondering what we're going to want to give her back.  Mom is having hysterics.  I'm guessing about 75 or 80 adults, no signs of children or even younger adolescents."  Sweeping both shore and water, he added, "I don't sense any one else around, though a bear's been by here recently.  Watch out for him snoozing near fruit trees or bushes; this heat's hard on them."

 

"So, how do we handle this?" Stush asked, reversing the engines and backing the flat boat so that it bumped into the riverbank.  "Put her on the end of the boat and let them come get her?"

 

"How about tossing her into the water and letting them dive for her?" Mrisa suggested dryly.

 

"Mrisa," Shaman chided gently.  "She's right in front of you and your words won't correct her behavior."

 

"Sorry," Mrisa said, totally unrepentant.

 

Catherine was oblivious, rocking from side to side, watching the hesitant approach of a single boat from the flotilla anchored at the remnants of an old dock.  "Mommy, mommy, mommy," she chanted under her breath.

 

"We let them make the first move, all the way," Cap'n ordered. "We made them come to our turf; the least we can do is let them set terms.  First sign of trouble, abandon the boat and meet up at the rendezvous we set.  Other than that, keep your hands where they can be seen and stay loose.  We've got no reason to fight, but they don't know that yet."

 

There was a murmur of assent, then the skiff nudged up to the bank as well, 10 or so yards away.  Before anyone could move, Catherine hurled herself at it, splashing through the shallow water at the edge of the river and screaming for her mother.  A woman broke away from the party, though several men tried to hold her back, and scooped the child up.

 

Stopping dead, she hugged Catherine until Sentinel could swear bones were going to pop, crying hysterically.  Abruptly she dropped to one knee, turned the girl over it and walloped her bottom, both shrieking wildly.  Sentinel and everybody else on his boat tensed, but Cap'n held them all with a terse gesture.  "Not our child, not our tribe, not our custom.  And we've all been joking about the same thing ourselves," he bit out.

 

"Her people aren't any happier about it," Sentinel murmured.  "Their Leader is trying to get her husband to intervene."  Sure enough, a burly, hairy man waded out and took Catherine forcefully away from her mother, pulling the woman into his chest and holding her head there while she started crying again.  His daughter he held in his other arm, jiggling her gently while she wailed into his neck.

 

Embarrassed and uneasy, both parties eyed each other and the family in the middle until Catherine imperiously slapped at her father's shoulder, startling him into letting her slide down to the ground.  She ran over to Cap'n and Sentinel, taking their hands and towing them toward her own leader. 

 

"Leader, Leader," she burbled, "This is Cap'n and Sentinel and that's Shaman and Matt and Mrisa and Boots and Tracker and Stush and I didn't get the other names, and they took care of me and Sentinel saved me from the rats and Shaman knows a *million* jokes and they have *hundreds* of kids and I *hate* their food but nobody would roast any meat for me and they took forever to bring me home, they were so stupid, and, and, and..."

 

"That's enough, Catherine," Leader ordered gently, putting his hand on her head almost in blessing.  To the amazement of Freedom tribe, she hushed immediately, leaning on his slender leg contentedly.  A man of middle height with short, curly hair that had probably been dark once, Leader offered his hand to Simon.  "We lost her trail at the rat tide and thought they had taken her."

 

"She's a brave girl," Cap'n offered diplomatically.  "My people found her in a tree using a stick to keep them at bay."

 

Smiling down at the child clinging to him, Leader patted her once more and sent her toward her parents.  "She would have been a grave loss, Captain.  Is there more we can do for you than give you our thanks?"

 

"I don't suppose you have any oranges?" Cap'n mumbled, causing strange looks from both sides.  "Never mind," he went on more strongly.  "News is good, if you have any to share.  We're going into the city ourselves for salt and what not, but wouldn't mind trading for it instead if you've already run a salvage operation."

 

"Our excursion was curtailed as well.  I don't suppose you have information concerning the rats?  Their behavior is quite unique in our experience."

 

"We've learned a few things, and heard more from Travelers," Simon admitted.  Would you like to come on board for some mint tea while we discuss it?" 

 

Putting his hands behind him in a military manner, Leader started forward so that he and Cap'n were walking side by side through the water.  "That would be very welcome.  Travelers? What are they?"

 

By unspoken agreement both groups wound up on the wide, flat deck of the pontoon boat, mixing uneasily.  There were about as many River People as tribesmen; plainly their own effort to show no bad intentions.  Standing behind Simon, at the very edge of the boat, Jim watched the tentative mingling and smiles, listened to the fragments of conversation as people introduced themselves and chatted about weather.  //I'd thought we'd never do the cocktail party thing again,// he mused.  //One piece of civilization *I've* never missed.//

 

Shaman pulled out a hibachi, lit it and began boiling water for tea.  Casually chattering about how different such chores must be living in their fleet, he asked if anyone had any allergies to the ingredients being used.  Rebecca, Catherine's mother, found the homey task settling and helped him with it, replying to his comments almost automatically, all the while clutching her child's shirt as if afraid she would vanish again.

 

Bit by bit, they all relaxed, to the point that Jim agreed to the offer of a cup of tea himself to make his guarding less obvious.  "Other than random attacks by what you call Ravagers, we've had very little contact with other groups since we joined forces," Leader was explaining.  "There are two villages that we know of where enough people survived SAR that they've been able to maintain a reasonable existence for themselves.  One even has a short wave transmitter and hand cranked generator; they've not picked up another transmission in over five years.  We pull in at their docks periodically, looking for tools or medicine.  You say there are several other tribes like your own in this general area?"

 

"New Hope and Strength are both off-shoots of Freedom."  There was only a little pride in Simon's voice.  "And they range on either side of us."

 

//Well, maybe more than a little, if you know how to read him,// Jim thought wryly, though his expression never changed.

 

"At the beginning of the Chaos, we gathered refugees from Cascade and the surrounding area," Simon explained, "taught them what they needed to know to survive in the wilderness.  When they were ready, we negotiated territorial boundaries with them, and sent them off to do the same.  There's at least three more groups out there formed from the first generation of refugees.  Where our lands intersect, we meet once in a while to visit and trade, keep up with old friends.  It's hard, but that way it's very unlikely *all* of us will be wiped out by Ravagers or disease."

 

"And the Travelers you mentioned?" a leggy brunette who had attached herself to Leader in a very possessive way asked. 

 

"I guess not that long ago they were drifters or migrant workers or even gypsies.  Musicians some of them," Blair explained, bringing over cups for their guests. "Can't seem to settle down in one spot, you know?  Some ride horses or have wagons; others are on foot.  They come into our territory, tell us what they've seen or learned from others in exchange for a meal and some supplies."  He went back to pouring tea and distributing it.

 

"Reliable information?" she asked.  "Mrs. Margaret Taylor, by the way."

 

"Reliable enough for us.  We know about Gray Brother from them, and have learned that between SAR and Ravagers, most of the West Coast is a ghost town," Simon answered.

 

Looking at Catherine sadly, Leader said, "How many generations before the whole world is a ghost town?  In five years we've seen perhaps as many children among all the survivors."

 

That startled Cap'n so badly he blurted, "So few? We have 14 and most of the other tribes are doing at least that well."

 

Listening intently to the exchange, Shaman gave Sentinel a cup, then wound his arm around his mate's waist.  Senses up and open to monitor Leader and his people, as surprised by the revelation as the rest of his people, Sentinel absently pressed a small kiss to his lover's temple and hugged him back.

 

Without warning, Catherine launched herself at the couple, screaming furiously, "Whore, whore, whore!"  Shaman raised an arm defensively, but her weight threw him back, spilling the scalding hot tea he held onto Sentinel's chest.  Caught off guard both by her aural explosion and the burning liquid, Sentinel stumbled back a step, adding to his misery by splashing the contents of his own cup onto his leg. 

 

The twinned agony of his skin blistering from the fluid and the head-shattering noise assaulting his ears, literally stunned Sentinel into immobility.  Unable to do so much as howl in pain, he stood with eyes clenched shut and head thrown back, body frozen in a rictus of torture.  He never heard Shaman's frantic cry or felt the impact that sent him into the water.

 

His next coherent thought, and the last he was to have for a while, was, "Thank God, that's cold."  Later he would be able to vaguely remember Blair's mouth covering his, breathing into him even as they rose to the river's surface.  At the time he simply trusted the man holding him, letting himself float in natural buoyancy, distantly aware of clothing being pulled off his tormented flesh.  All too aware of the damage to his skin, he tried to dial down his touch and bring up another sense in distraction, as Blair had trained him.

 

But the hurt was too enormous, and his ears were still violently complaining as well, preventing him from focusing.  Hoping to at least alleviate his aching ears, he concentrated on hearing and discovered all there was for him was a single noise, as if every possible sound had blended into one.  And that one was threatening.

 

Forcing open his eyes, he looked for the source of danger - and saw the mouths of the River People moving in speech, too many of the faces reflecting varying degrees of disgust for what they were witnessing.  Needing to warn Simon and Blair but unable to find any language skills in the morass inside his skull, he became agitated, fighting the gentle hands supporting him.

 

Through some miracle Blair understood that Sentinel saw trouble on their boat, and looked over the conglomeration of expressions aimed their way.  His own tightened, but he said nothing.  Instead, as if reacting to what  he saw on Jim's bare chest, he whistled the tribe's 'caution, show no change' warning.  

 

Freedom tribe casually divorced themselves from the crowd and into a consolidated group, as Simon snapped at Leader "Maybe you should take your people back to your own boat.  We need to get my man to medical care.  And for mercy's sake, hush that child UP!"

 

Alarm given and acted upon, Jim reluctantly surrendered to the needs of his flesh, fighting to cope with its jumbled, screaming demands.  Even with Blair's hand locked around his own to anchor him, he could do little more than not whimper, and when he was lifted from the water in a blanket used as a stretcher, the blast of agony slapped him away into unconsciousness.

 

He skimmed in and out of it for the better part of a day, becoming only peripherally aware of reality when he did wake up.  Always he looked for Blair to reassure himself that they were safe, that he didn't have to fight the pull of the drugs he knew he'd been given.  And always his lover was there, smiling and encouraging him to rest, heal.

 

When he woke to find the smaller man sleeping beside him, he knew Dan and Blair had decided he was past the worst and hadn't given him anything more to dull the pain.  Cautiously he turned the dial for touch; it was all the way down, though he didn't remember doing it.  His skin felt like it had a mild sunburn before he had it close to normal, and he left the setting there so he could at least enjoy the pressure of Blair's chin resting on his shoulder.  Limbs wrapped around one of Jim's arms, his mate was holding him in what was probably the only comfortable position for both of them.  While he missed having Blair draped over him, at least one of his hands was very, very happy since it was tucked comfortably into his lover's groin. 

 

Despite the condition he was in, Jim felt a tug of arousal and grinned to himself.  Now *why* had he been worried about his virility? 

 

Not wanting to go past acknowledging how nice the package he was cupping was, Jim ran a check over all his senses, finding they were erratic, probably a leftover from the drugs.  Expecting to be in the medical tent, he was mildly surprised to find they were in their own hut in the center of camp.  Around him he could hear the Tribe going through a normal day, laughing and chatting as they worked.

 

In no hurry to see if his dial would hold if taxed, he simply laid there, idly following the progress of an ant on the ceiling.  Dimly recalling when he had been in the water and *all* sounds had become *one* sound, he deliberately *didn't* try to pinpoint or identify what he was listening to, but let it be a kind of unique white noise.  Interestingly his people as a whole made a sound that was smooth and pleasant.  No burrs of angry voices, no sharp points of frustrated shouts, or even dull sawing of bored words. 

 

Wondering if he had been subconsciously using Tribal sound as a way to monitor the whole group, the same way he used Blair sound to keep track of his mate, Jim nearly drifted back off to sleep.  The throb of engines on the river moving their way roused him, and, without thinking, he whistled for a runner.

 

One appeared almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting right outside the door.  Sparing half a thought that he and Shaman were naked and uncovered, Jim nevertheless whispered sharply, "Do we have boats on the water?"

 

Neither Laz's vitals or expression changed at seeing them, and she matter of factly whispered back, "No.  Everybody's still fussing about whether to use them to enter the city or go on foot, so they're docked and having maintenance done."

 

"Tell the Cap'n we might have company coming, and alert the sentries."

 

"Yes, Sentinel." Laz turned to leave, but she looked over her shoulder with a grin that made her homely face light up.  "Good to see you two are doing better."

 

"Thanks," Blair mumbled, drowsily scrubbing his face on Jim's biceps.  After she left, he grumbled, "I suppose you're going to have to get up and go see for yourself."

 

"Why?" Jim answered truthfully.  "The scouts will know soon enough if it's the River People, and if they're thinking of trouble.  I'll move when I'm needed."

 

Blair yanked his head up to stare into Jim's face.  Slowly he smiled.  "You mean, no fight to keep you in bed where you belong, no argument that you're not that badly hurt, you can take care of yourself, quit hovering Sandburg!"

 

"Well, if you insist," Jim teased.

 

Instantly dropping back onto Jim's shoulder, Blair said hastily, "No, that's all right, thank you."  Snuggling back around the arm he'd appropriated for himself, he said suspiciously a minute later, "Does this mean the next time I'm down with something, you're going to expect *me* to behave?"

 

"You could try it," Jim said through a yawn.  "It's positively decadent to lie here in the middle of the day and do nothing."  Remembering the last thoughts he'd had before hearing the boats, he added, "Besides, you might discover something interesting.  Just lie there for a while, babe, and *listen.*  Like you're using the background noise for meditation."

 

"Kay."  Taking Jim at his word, Blair began to breathe with slow, measured lifts of his chest, letting his already lax body mold itself to Jim's.  After a bit, Jim felt the muscles on his lover's face pull; Blair was smiling broadly.  "Cool," he murmured.  "People music.  Why isn't it distracting or annoying like in a city?"

 

"Why are you asking me?  You're the Shaman," Jim answered with a grin. 

 

Again he could feel Blair's response; raised eyebrows this time.  "Ooookayyy," Blair drawled, "It could be like pheromones.  You know how they can exert enough influence on women to get them all menstruating at the same time; there could be some physical response that causes us to harmonize.  Or maybe we try to make sounds that match our neighbors when we live close together, so that we are in step with each other.  Or it could be that in a city there are so many artificial noises, people music gets drowned out and all we can hear is racket.  Or it could be..."

 

"Why did I open my mouth?" Jim asked rhetorically.  "All these years, you think I'd learn, but no, *I* have to ask *Sandburg* an open ended question, knowing that the only way to shut him up..."

 

"Is to screw me senseless," Blair interrupted, nipping at Jim's shoulder.  "Since that's out of the question, I guess you'll have to listen to me."

 

"I thought the idea here was to keep me in bed, not send me stomping off to join the next hunting party?  Besides, who says I can't?"

 

"I do.  You're badly blistered and we can't risk infection.  Come on, Jim, making love when you can't *touch* is no fun."  Blair argued.

 

"Sandburg, I am not going to..."  Blair jostled him once, and Jim broke off his argument to mentally fumble with his dial.  "...do anything but lie here and go back to sleep," he finished a bit hoarsely. 

 

"Good," Blair and this time he was the one who yawned.  "Cause I could use a nap."

 

Worried voices pulled Jim into listening, and he sighed regretfully.  "I don't think you're going to get it.  The River People just dropped anchor right below our camp and are slowly disembarking, carrying packages.  Looks like we're going to have company.  Better help me up."

 

"Jim," Blair began.

 

"Simon needs our kind of backup, partner."

 

"Coming."

 

By the time Jim had struggled to his feet, hanging onto Blair for support, swearing and panting to hold in his grunts of pain, Laz was back at the door.  Nervously fidgeting as if she wanted to rush in to help but afraid of her reception, she said timidly, "Shaman, Sentinel, if you can..."

 

"On our way.  It may take us a few," Blair told her tersely.  "See if the runners or sentries can slow our guests down enough for us to get to the common house.  At the very least, hold them at the main entrance until we've slipped in through the side door to our usual place."

 

"Done."  Laz ran off, shouting for other runners as she did.

 

Behind her, Jim slowly released his grip on his lover and straightened, holding himself without wincing though his jaw worked double time.  "I'm not going to be able to stand much in the way of clothes," he ground out. 

 

"It's warm enough we can go for the Native American look," Blair answered him shortly, already improvising with a strip of fabric.  "A loin cloth and vest won't interfere with the bandages on your chest and thigh, but cover you well enough for most cultures.  And if those idiots are offended by it, then they can go jump in their own river."

 

In short order they were dressed and walking for the common house at a leisurely pace that allowed Jim to hide his discomfort without looking disabled.  To add to that illusion, they discussed what the visitors might want, and how to handle Catherine or any comments made on the accident.  Blair insisted on sticking to the discipline they used with the tribe's own children.  Ignore her until she made an appropriate apology or some act of restitution; and it would have to come from Catherine, not her people.  Jim was skeptical of her accepting any responsibility, especially since she now had her tribe to support her.  As always, Blair was more optimistic, and they debated it until both stepped casually into their customary place behind Simon just as Leader, carrying Catherine entered.  Margaret Taylor, the child's parents, and many of the others in their community filed into the lodge after him, wearing expressions of worry.

 

Absently noting that every woman was escorted - and that was plainly the word for it - by a man, Sentinel waited expressionlessly as Leader stopped a few away from Simon and smiled apologetically.  "Our first meeting came to an unfortunate ending; we were hoping to make up for that if we could."  

 

He put Catherine down and she strutted over to Simon and handed him a large plastic container. "It's salt," she said prettily, then hurried back to Leader.

 

"You mentioned you were willing to trade for it," the other leader said pleasantly, encouragingly.  "Though we'd like to make of gift of it, we do have other things you might want - pepper, some other spices hard to come by now, a few medicines like cough syrup.  We're looking for fruit or berries - we'll settle on a location for the plants if you don't have enough to spare.  Scurvy was a problem for us last year. 

 

"Oh, and I believe you mentioned medical care when Sentinel was hurt.  Do you have a doctor?"  Though his smooth, polite inflection never changed, a punch in his heartbeat and that of the others - most of which were racing, especially Catherine's parents - let Sentinel know they had hit on the crux of why the River People would take a chance on coming unarmed into camp. A hidden nudge to Shaman's hip sent his mate unobtrusively to Cap'n's side; it was a signal to pay close attention to this part of the conversation.

 

"You have injuries among you?" Cap'n asked politely.  "Physician will be more than willing to treat anyone that's hurt."

 

"No, not that so much as, well..." Leader hesitated, then went on in a confiding tone.  "We only have a single man who has medical training, and he was an EMT.  We were hoping that he could visit extensively with your doctor while we work out trade and become better acquainted.  Good as Marcus has been, he really doesn't feel competent to treat us.  Keeps worrying that he's missing important diagnosis because he doesn't know what to look for."

 

"You're going to stay moored here then, instead of moving on?"  Cap'n asked, not quite sharply.

 

"Well, working out what each of us wants and what the other has to offer will take time.  We were also hoping to hunt; it would be easier if we had local guides.  Besides, it will give Catherine a chance to play with children close to her own age.  That's important for a youngster; so important, we wouldn't even insist that she come home in the evenings."  Leader patted Catherine reassuringly, and she clung to him, plainly not willing but trying to be obedient.  Behind them her parents controlled looks of grief and fear.

 

Realizing they were offering up their greatest treasure as a hostage to prove their good intentions, Cap'n noticeably mellowed.  "I doubt that'll be necessary.  Although I will *insist* that she do what the Nannies tell her while she's visiting, and never leaves *either* camp without holding onto the hand of an adult."

 

The relief in the other party was transparent, but Leader chose to act as if he had expected no other reaction.  Perhaps he had, and it was the others who had trouble trusting.  "A very wise precaution, considering how you met," he smiled affably. 

 

Cap'n laughed, then scanned his tribe and asked, "Any discussion needed, people?"  Ignoring the surprise at the question from the River People, he waited a heartbeat to let his own clan voice their opinions.  

 

No one spoke and he gestured to the seats beside the cooking fire.  "We've got a lot to discuss.  Why don't we get comfortable?  There's beans cooking if anybody is hungry and tea if you want, as well."  At his words, Leader nodded to his party, and that dissolved the rigid formation of intruders versus tribe.  The two groups began to blend timidly as the few who had already met acknowledged each other and began other introductions.  Cap'n sat himself, drawing up a camp chair in invitation for Leader.

 

Smiling his acceptance, Leader started to join him, but paused by Sentinel on the way.  "I'm pleased you weren't badly injured.  If there is anything I can do...?"

 

Despite himself, Sentinel was impressed that the other man spoke to him directly on the sensitive subject.  "I'm well taken care of," he said formally, cupping Shaman's elbow possessively, "but thank you for the offer."  

 

For a second Leader stared at where they touched, his eyes filled with what could have been either longing or regret, but he hid it away nearly instantly and replied, "If you change your mind, please let me know."

 

"If I think of something," Sentinel half-promised, and led the other two men toward seats.

 

"Forget it," Shaman murmured just for his mate as they sat, "They wouldn't let you strangle her."

 

Sentinel covered his amusement with ease, but surprisingly Leader lit up with a beautiful smile and admitted as quietly, "He'd have to get in line, anyway.  And my people have had to put up with her longer."

   

Only long years of practice allowed Shaman and Sentinel to hide their startled reaction to the other man's words.  And, if Jim was to believe his senses, Leader had no idea that hearing their private comment was any way out of the ordinary.  Hastily exchanging a look with his partner, Sentinel chose to reply in kind, though at normal speaking level.  "I feel for them.  Why do they put up with it?"

 

*That* visibly startled Leader, "She's not their child."

 

"You mean only her immediate parents are responsible for her?" Shaman blurted.

 

"Of course; she's their child.  Who else would be?" Leader asked in bafflement.

 

"Well, *everyone's*," Shaman began, spreading his hands wide.

 

Blotting out the rest of his mate's explanation, Sentinel wondered wearily when dealing with strangers had become so politely *difficult.*   Already the tribal sound that he had so recently become aware of was roughening with forced patience.

  

****

 

In the days that passed the edge of discontent in Freedom tribe became shrill, until, nearly two weeks later, it nearly at a breaking point.  Privately Jim thought that the River People had it worse; everything about their hosts seemed to rub them the wrong way, yet they kept doggedly at trying to be friends.

 

Sitting in the last rays of the day's sun, pen in hand, he patiently waited to transcribe Blair's dictation into a journal, wondering for the millionth time what hidden agenda forced the River People to remain.  Outside their lodge, Blair paced upwind of Jim, marshaling his thoughts, and spoke, pulling Jim away from his introspection.

 

Talking clearly, but only so that Jim could hear, Blair resumed where he had left off a few moments ago  ".... strongly patriarchal structure, only permitting status to the female members by placing all marital choices, punishment of martial infidelity, inappropriate sexual behavior, and social class division within their domain.  A woman chooses her own mate, may choose to divorce him if he is abusive or does not provide, but must have the permission of the majority of the other females to do so.  These decisions may be the only ones of value a woman makes during her entire adult life.

 

"As limiting as the culture may be to its females from my perspective, it does provide a level of stability that otherwise would be impossible.  As mentioned previously, the large barges and boats allow the River People significant material comfort and wealth, and it is the labor of childless or older women to maintain their possessions.  With so few children being born, this has become the major occupation for the women, and has created in essence, a reservoir for the technology and artifacts for the civilization that existed before the collapse.

 

"Freedom tribe has availed itself of the River People's hospitality - and eagerness to exhibit their belongs -  and spent many hours visiting the various boats to indulge in the luxury of music recorded on CD's, electric lamps and other conveniences.  Simon, in particular, has become nearly obsessed with their extensive library.  Its scientific displays of basic scientific principals, such as a miniature transparent model of an internal combustion engine, seem to be as appealing to him as the many books."

 

The flow of words stopped again, and again Jim waited.  It had taken Blair many years to be this comfortable with letting Jim transcribe his thoughts onto paper for him, and had only been possible because Jim never, ever commented or reacted in any way to either the content or pace that his lover used.  In fact, in the first year after Blair had sara'd to paper, he had stubbornly refused to let Jim do it at all.  It wasn't until other people came to Shaman asking him about the order of events, or if a birth had been recorded, that his partner admitted he was the closest they had to a historian and had begun letting Jim write in his journals for him.  At first the entries had been brief:  a list of pertinent facts.  But eventually Blair's natural inclination to keep a proper journal had led him to speaking without thinking.

 

As far as Jim was concerned, this private peek into his mate's mental processes only endeared Blair to him more, and increased his respect.  It was a thought he had never shared with the smaller man, for fear it would make him self-conscious and destroy the natural way Blair dictated now.

 

Coming to a stand still, staring down toward the river as if he could see the people he spoke of, Blair resumed speaking.  "The River People's generosity not withstanding, there is so little commonality between us that even the simplest of tasks are complicated when shared.  A recent hunting trip was nearly completely unproductive because the RP males were hesitant to follow the lead of our female tracker.

 

"Not only is the expectation of our women to be treated as equals causing difficulties, but their steadfast refusal to be sexually available is adding to the burden of mutual co-operation as well.  The moment the RP men discovered that few of our women were 'married' as they defined it, they viewed our ladies as potential spouses and began courtship overtures toward them.  When our women made it clear they had no intentions of 'marrying,' the overtures became overtly sexual, despite the River People's *own* restrictions against pre-martial sex.  I am at a loss to explain this paradox, though the life of enforced celibacy their culture expects of single males is undoubtedly the underlying culprit.

 

"More minorly,  the RP women complain constantly about the treatment they receive from Freedom Tribe males; they expect certain courtesies and privileges which we do not customarily give anyone but expectant mothers, the elderly, or an invalid.  In fact, for us, to fetch and carry for another is a courtship ritual in and of itself.  Nor are our men much interested the trappings of material comfort, and pay little or no attention to the possessions that are such as source of pride for RP women.

 

"Even the Nannies and children are beginning to feel and reflect the ever increasing tension among the adults.  Almost to the child, our young are shunning Catherine.  Though it is at least partially because of her generally unpleasant behavior, I fear I may have inadvertently complicated her relationship with her peer group.  I am caught in my own conundrum; she did wrong, and I cannot lie to our children when they ask why I am treating Catherine with silence.  Though I have never revealed details, merely saying that she did me an injury, our offspring have taken my side and are doing what they have been taught by example: adding to the social pressure on Catherine to make restitution by ignoring her as well.

 

"Needless to say, Catherine tries to retaliate by behaving even worse, to the point only her own will tolerate her.  And they are often 'too busy' to deal with her.

 

"With the social pressure accumulating and no relief valve in sight, I fear that it is only a matter of time until some critical event triggers the inevitable crisis."  Blair finished his statement with a flat finality, and scraped his hands through his hair as he sat.

 

Taking it as a signal that his mate was done for the night, Jim closed the journal, capped the pen, and carefully stored both in a plastic bag.  He went into their lodge to put it away with the others - some filled and some waiting to be filled - that he would carry until their travels brought them close enough to their special glade to be hidden with the rest.  With the water he had set aside earlier, he washed to make sure there was no paper left on his hands or elsewhere, and went back out to join his mate.

 

Blair was thoughtfully studying the common house, as if he were the Sentinel and could hear the solution to the difficulties between the two tribes.  Not bothering to hide a sigh, Jim determinedly prodded and nudged the distracted man until he was sitting behind the smaller back and could pull his lover to him. 

 

That finally penetrated Blair's fugue, and he sat bolt upright trying to get away.  "Your burns..."

 

"Are practically gone, and having your furry hide snuggled into them is not going to hurt.  Now shut up and sit back, Sandburg."  The order was issued in loving tones and backed with a tender nip to an exposed ear. 

 

Glancing back over his shoulder to see how much of an issue Jim was going to make of it, Blair softened at the hunger Jim knew was shining out of his eyes.  "Guess it's been a while, huh?  Between your injuries and acting as a host, I can't even remember when we did more than sleep in the same bed."  He leaned back onto the comfort offered, trying to make sure he wasn't digging or pinching freshly healed flesh.

 

Almost feeling the mind resting so trustingly on his shoulder spin, Jim undid the tie holding back the long curls and began to finger comb them, taking his time to painlessly work out every snarl and tangle.  When they were temporarily tamed, cascading over his bare chest, he went to work on the skull housing that incredible brain, massaging lightly at the scalp, until Blair finally snorted once with humor, and relaxed.

 

"What's so funny?" Jim murmured.

 

"Just thinking about primates and grooming behavior," Blair answered lightly.  "Except it's supposed to be the bigger monkey getting groomed by the littler one, not the other way around."

 

"That's cause the bigger monkey hasn't figured out it's better to give than to receive," Jim quipped, wondering if Blair would get the hint inside the joke.

 

A faint change in his scent, heartbeat, and breathing told Jim that his lover, did, indeed pick up on it, and Blair's next words confirmed it.  "Is there something you'd like to give, my Jim?"

 

"Anything you want," Jim said simply, wrapping one arm around Blair's chest to hug him close.

 

"Ahhh, man."  Blair melted, nuzzled into the upper arm closest to him.  It was a yes, but neither were in a hurry to go inside.  The night air was cooling, but not so much as to need shelter, and a soft, warm breeze was playing a game of tag with itself through and around the tents and lodges.  Overhead the sky was clear, with only a few clouds and a single star softening its steely blue.  Around them people were going from lodge to lodge, making up for the lack of their usual visit to the community fire by paying individual calls on each other.  As Jim and Blair sat there, resting from the labors of a busy day and mellowing into a shared evening, friends stopped by for a word or two, or called out a quiet greeting as they passed.

 

Closing his eyes to listen to his extended family, Jim could still hear the raw edge of their banked frustrations, but it was not as bad tonight.  Why he didn't know, but even as he listened, it sweetened with more laughter, teasing, and flirtation.  //Must be in the air,// he mused.  //Or maybe turning to the people who understand you is one good way to deal with putting up with strangers.//

 

At that thought he tuned into the sound he'd been deliberately ignoring; the massed voices of the strangers housing in the common lodge.

 

Deep, bitter frustration, fear, worry - all edged with a flavor he didn't recognize, but felt he should.  Unconsciously he looked toward the dwelling, looking for a visual clue to the unknown element. All he saw was Leader in one doorway, staring at him and his lover, that strange trace of longing/pain/regret in his eyes bright in the evening light.  To Jim it was as if he and the other man met eyes, though it was impossible over the distance between them.  Then, with a shrug of his shoulders that was like taking on a great weight, Leader went inside.

 

"Jim?" Blair questioned, concern clear in his voice.  "What?"

 

"Is Leader a Sentinel?" Jim asked bluntly.  "He keeps hearing things I do, and I think he sees better than normal, too."

 

"I've been asking myself the same thing," Blair confessed softly.  "But he doesn't *feel* like a one to me, if that makes sense.  There's lots he has in common with you and Lexi, like a highly developed ethical sense and very anal behavior...."  Blair deftly caught Jim's fingers before they could delve into his side and tickle him.  Kissing the tips, he hung onto his prize but kept talking.  "And he might have enhanced sight/hearing.  But we've talked a lot over the past few days,"  His voice became weary and resigned just thinking about the tedious trade negotiations and numerous personal disputes that had come up.  "And I think he's simply more aware of his senses, trained to pay attention to them and make use of what he picks up.  He was a soldier and cop, like you, you know."

 

"Or maybe he's what happens to a sentinel who never finds a guide or teacher," Jim murmured to himself.  "More, but not all."

 

Blair twisted to look over his shoulder, and Jim drew himself back sharply to his mate to smile down at him.  "I don't want to think about Leader and his people tonight; they've been part of our every waking moment since we ran into them, and I'm tired of it.  The only thing I want on your mind, my Blair, is which one of us is going to be too sore to sit tomorrow!"

 

"Maybe it's time to take this inside, then?" Blair suggested huskily.

 

Leaning down, Jim kissed his partner lightly, putting the merest suggestion of tongue into it.  Inhaling deeply to remind himself of what he desired, Jim broke it before he wanted to.  "Let me go clean up, okay?"

 

"Want some help?"

 

Memories of a hot showers and a hotter Blair sharing them brought Jim to complete attention, and he ground up at the supple body resting on him. "Oh, God - don't I wish," he moaned, then forced himself to urge Blair to scoot away.  "But we promised Simon we wouldn't after what happened last time, and the river is too far away for comfort for Sentinel while outsiders are in the camp."

 

"And the last thing I want is you thinking about duty," Blair grumbled darkly.  Then he grinned lewdly.  "You go ahead and clean up; it'll give me a chance to get some.... things.... ready here."

 

"Things?  Ready?  Oh, God, I'm a dead man," Jim muttered, getting to his feet hurriedly. 

 

Blair stood as well, stretching up to pin a hard kiss on Jim's eager mouth.  "Just think what a happy looking corpse you're going to be," he said huskily, after breaking it.

 

"Oh, God!"  Jim repeated, giving his lover a last squeeze, then nearly ran for the bathhouse.

 

After cleaning up in record time, he made a fast circuit of the sentries around the camp, making sure they were paying as much attention to the inside as to the outside again tonight.  That done, he deliberately gave himself permission to go 'off duty' and released the grip he had on his desire.  By the time he had returned to their hut, he was self-consciously draping his towel over his crotch, regardless of the dark night surrounding him.

 

He stooped to get through the doorway, and stumbled, falling to his knees just on the other side at the sight of what waited for him.  Blair had decided for them who was going to be sore: he was nude, lying on his stomach on their furs, one leg drawn up enticingly.  Head pillowed on his crossed arms, he smiled at Jim with drowsy, loving intent and flexed his ass cheeks.

 

"Hi.  Took you long enough," his lover murmured.

 

Jim couldn't answer; instead he crawled over to their bedding, shedding clothes as he went.  Burying his face on the downy skin between Blair's shoulder blades, he fit his hard-on in the crease between the muscular thighs and reached around to trap his lover's readiness between his hand and Blair's tummy.

 

With an appreciative moan, Blair tried to thrust, but Jim held him down with his weight.  "No hurry, my Blair, no hurry.  Let me taste you, use my mouth on you." 

 

"Ahh.... Want it!" Blair groaned.

 

"Yeah," Jim agreed, laving the firm line of muscle along Blair's spine.  "Want it, bad.  But want this, too."  He nibbled where he had kissed, lightly scoring the perfect skin.  Massaging with his lips, tongue and teeth, he covered every inch of the smaller man's back, from the dimples of his bottom to the nape of his neck.  Blair shuddered and whimpered under the caresses, fruitlessly trying to pump into the hand holding his cock captive.

 

Eventually he went completely limp except for that solid length, garbled words his only reaction to Jim's oral attentions.  Taste finally sated, Jim laid on top of Blair, keeping his weight on one elbow, and began to torment a metal studded ear.  "How do you want fucked, my Blair?  Hard and fast?  Sweet and slow?  Should I tongue-fuck you first?"

 

Blair's reply was a muffled shout.  Surprised, Jim peered at his face, then carefully tugged away the hand his lover had clapped over his own mouth.  "No!" he ordered abruptly.  "You're not going to hide our love, not even the sounds of it."

 

"Jim!  The whole camp will hear!" Blair protested.

 

"Let them," Jim grumbled.  "Not as if we don't hear *them* from time to time."  Under his palm Blair's hard-on thrummed impatiently, eagerly.

 

"Oh... guests...?"

 

"Don't care.  Don't *care!* Let me hear you, babe.  Please?"  Jim began to stroke over the opening flexing against the shaft of his cock, gliding over the pucker with promising strength.

 

"Unh!  Jim... Do It!"

 

"Do what?  Tell me.  Tell me, my Blair."

 

"You... oh, oh... just want," Blair panted, "to hear ... beg..."

 

Jim dug his face into the soft curls tumbled at his lover's neck, but didn't let his thrusts penetrate.  "Yes, yes, yes..."

 

"Aaaaaa... all right, all right!  FUCK ME, Damnit it!  FUCK ME!"

 

Shouting his own hunger, Jim rammed in, virtually lifting his mate from the force of it.  With matching cries they began pounding fiercely at each other, Blair taking every blow from the cock inside him with powerful lunges back onto it.  As good as it was, as tight and hot and sweet as it was on his needy rod, it wasn't enough and Jim hauled both of them up onto their knees.  Steadying himself by holding onto Blair's hips, Jim hammered into his mate's willing body, hitting the hot spot in the clenching channel with every thrust.  A wild cry broke from his lover's lips with each slam, driving Jim into moving faster and harder, voicing his own pleasure at their joining.

 

Soon, too soon, the burn of his climax started deep in Jim's balls, and he gasped a warning to Blair.  It seemed to be what his mate had been waiting for; he braced himself on one arm and reached under to pull on his seeping cock.  "JIM!" he screamed, trying desperately to open more, to take Jim deeper as he matched his jacking to the plundering of his hole. 

 

The tunnel around him began to tremble, the beat of blood through it growing faster and hotter.  It tipped the delicate balance between ready to come and having to come, *NOW*, and Jim roared as his finish screamed over his nerves.  Even as his mind was obliterated in the rush of pure ecstasy, he felt Blair convulse under him, adding his own bellow of release to their joy.

 

When his mind cleared, Jim withdrew carefully, automatically checking that he hadn't hurt his mate.  With a mumbled apology, he collapsed, gathering Blair to him when he did the same.  "Beautiful as always, my Blair," he whispered when he caught his breath.

 

"*Now* you're all for being quiet," Blair mock groused, biting Jim's chin playfully.  "After practically exposing ourselves to *everybody.*  Must have pissed 'em off with that racket."

 

At that reminder, Jim checked the camp around him with his hearing and broke into a soft chuckle.  "More like inspired them.  Listen."

 

Even to normal ears the soft cries and rhythmic slaps of flesh could be heard from several different places in the camps.  As they listened, more began, the participants apparently either freshly awakened or further inspired by the night's love fest.  Laughing sleepily to himself, Blair mumbled, "In nine months time, if someone brings a baby to me to be named, I think I'm going call it Domino."  With a final squirm to fit himself better into Jim's arms, he dropped into slumber.

 

Nearly under himself, Jim blinked himself alert, more from surprise than anything else.  One of the hushed lovers in the distance was Stush, and he was patiently, lovingly coaching two people through the preparations for opening a male partner.  That one of them was Matt wasn't too much of a surprise, and his cry of astonished pleasure sent a voyeur's pang through Jim.  But that he didn't recognize the other woke Jim all the way up; it had to be a River man Matt was turning over for. 

 

Without meaning to, he turned his attention to the common house.  There were sounds from there as well; furtive rustlings of dry sex and passionless intercourse that lasted briefly, ending with male snores and female sighs of exasperation or frustration.

 

The implications from that and Matt's new lover, made Jim's night restless, though he kept his body calm so his lover could sleep.  In the gray of beginning dawn, Jim shifted Blair carefully from his shoulder and covered him with a light blanket against the morning chill.  Use to having him get up for early patrol, Blair didn't stir; he merely curled in on himself for warmth with an indistinct unhappy sound.

 

Unhappy himself at having to leave, and facing that it was getting harder and harder to do so, Jim dressed quickly and left for the camp's perimeter.  All of the night watch was awake and alert, greeting him with soft bird calls as he passed each post.  At the nursery compound, he found Nanny Baker walking with a toddler who was teething, patiently letting the child chew on his finger.  After stopping for a second to ask if he wanted Physician, Sentinel spotted the leader of the River People sitting just outside the common house, thoughtfully studying the lightening sky.

 

On impulse, he motioned for the other man to join him on his rounds, waiting until Leader fell into step before trekking toward his lookout.  Silently, strangely companionable, they climbed the short incline toward the small bluff that overlooked both the river and the camp. 

 

It wasn't until Sentinel had surveyed everything for 360 degrees that Leader finally spoke.  "The weather looks calm; if it holds, we'll be lifting anchor first thing tomorrow morning."

 

Nodding, Sentinel glanced at the smooth surface of the water and up at the clear sky, then replied.  "Signs are good for it; going back up river?"

 

"We've been discussing becoming seagoing, maybe checking other coastal cities for survivors."  Leader squatted, picked up a rock, and absently tossed it down into the water, following the ripples from the splash with his eyes.

 

"Think you'll come back this way eventually?  We could arrange to have someone here at a specific time if you wanted," Sentinel offered hesitantly.

 

Abruptly standing and meeting Sentinel's eyes squarely, Leader confessed, "I really don't think that's a good idea."

 

"Was last night so offensive to your clan?" Jim asked bluntly.

 

Having it hauled out in the plain light of day made Leader uncomfortable, and a suggestion of red appeared on his cheeks and ears.  Despite that, he answered as honestly as he'd been asked, "Yes, though not for the reasons that you're thinking.  We're *not* prudes, Sentinel.  Just, just..." he stopped, shrugged once helplessly, as if there were a restriction on what he wanted to say.

 

Keeping his face bland, Sentinel dove into the truth all the way.  "We've had the feeling from the first there was something you wanted or needed from us.  And I don't think you got whatever it is.  It isn't deliberate on our part; we can't help if we don't *know* what's wrong.  If you'll ask outright, I'll do what I can."

 

Uneasily, the other man shifted his eyes away, then dragged them back.  "The concern is that if you discover our weakness, you'll exploit it."

 

Choosing his words carefully, Sentinel said, "I don't see how we could.  Nomads have to pick and choose possessions carefully; you don't have anything we particularly *need.*  And I think we are far more.... understanding... than you give us credit for."

 

"Personally, I'm inclined to trust you," Leader said frankly.  "But the others...  I don't have to tell you how bad it was for most right after the Chaos.  And our community aggregated slowly, by accident, building mutual trust in small increments.  If I act on my own in our behalf on this very sensitive matter, it could be seen as a betrayal."

 

"If what you need is so important that you endured our company this long, surely it's got to be important enough to take the risk," he argued quietly, not sure why he was pressing the issue.

 

That brought back the silence and in unspoken accord they began to walk the perimeter again.  Though Leader was as alert as Sentinel, he was also deep in thought, and Sentinel let him be, keeping to his own duties as they hiked.   When they reached the far side of the camp where all there was for centuries east was forest, Sentinel stopped again, staring in the direction of his glade wistfully.

 

"Tiring, sometimes, isn't it?" Leader whispered, as if to himself, "To always be on duty, always be thinking of the welfare of others, always working for the common good.  Not even able to make a decision for yourself without having to consider the consequences to *everyone* else.  It's a weight weary and endless."

 

The only answer Sentinel could give was a shrug of understanding. 

 

It seemed to be the one Leader wanted; he tentatively touched Sentinel's shoulder, as if to establish a more personal contact with him.  "My friends used to call me David."

 

Tilting his head to one side, considering, Jim replied, a partial smile coming to his lips.  "Jim.  Jim Ellison."

 

"Thank you."  David fell silent again, eyes on Jim but looking deep into himself.  "Jim, why does Freedom Tribe have so many children when every one, *every one* else we've met has hardly any?"

 

Blinking, Jim snapped his jaw close and stepped back a pace.  "I remember - you'd just mentioned that before I was hurt.  The topic got lost.  You mean, you don't *know*?"

 

"You do?" David asked eagerly.

 

Sentinel whipped his head around, focusing his sight into the extreme distance even as the jeering catcalls that had attracted his attention repeated themselves.  "Trouble," he said shortly, and started off at a trot.

 

Leader fell into step beside him, "What?"

 

"Sounds like a fight."

 

"Damn!"  Before long Leader could hear for himself the muted sounds of a small group needing to be quiet when they wanted to be loud.  Worry creased his face; he heard something that alarmed him more than Sentinel had thought was necessary.  Without commenting, he picked up the pace, then came to a stealthy gliding stop at the edge of a small clearing just beyond the boundaries of the camp.

 

A mix of the tribe and River People were standing in a loose circle around two combatants: Mrisa and a young blond man with a stocky build whose name Sentinel didn't know. 

 

"Jerrod," Leader supplied, extremely softly.  "A trouble maker, I'm afraid."

 

"Got more than he can handle this time," Sentinel replied at the same level.  "Been pursuing Mrisa mercilessly even though she's made it clear she won't have anything to do with him.  My guess is last night inspired him to try one more time, and she told him off with some comment about not needing any one to do her hunting or fighting for her.  Heard her voice that opinion more than once."

 

Leader shot Sentinel a comprehending look.  "And she decided to prove it to him by fighting him?  Is she that good?"

 

"If he's counting on brute strength because he's male, she'll beat the crap out of him.  First thing we teach female fighters is how to handle pure power.  And if it comes down to skill versus skill - she could have an edge.  She's trained all her life, and knows how to handle herself.  My guess is he won't be expecting that."

 

Worried, now, Leader leaned on a tree and drummed his fingers on it.  "If she does, his pride will not let him accept it.  Jerrod could become irrationally violent.  Perhaps we should intervene."

 

"If we butt in, Mrisa will be publicly humiliated because it will look as if I think she can't take care of herself," Sentinel countered.

 

"Where's Shaman when you need him?" Leader mumbled, and Jim couldn't help a grunt of amusement.

 

"Well, since we can't let them fight, and we can't stop them - we have to take over and be in charge of it." Jim decided.  "Like referees in a boxing match."

 

"Excellent idea.  If it's made into a sporting event, good sportsmanship will give us the tool for controlling the situation regardless of the outcome."  Leader gave a wide smile that Sentinel suspected was seldom seen.  "Shaman would be proud of you."

 

Bracing himself to step in, Sentinel answered distractedly, "Some of him has to have rubbed off after all these years." From the corner of his eye he saw Leader shoot him a startled look, but he didn't take time to ask about it.  Jerrod had begun to swing, and Mrisa was lightly bouncing away from him, grinning saucily.

 

Taking on the posture and bellow of a drill sergeant he remembered all too clearly, Jim strode into the center of the circle, keeping it from scattering with stern glares.  Beside him Leader had taken on an equally uncompromising expression, and it was their united front as much as their unexpected appearance that stunned the crowd into immobility.

 

"You have no explanation I'm interested in hearing," Sentinel barked.  "And I assume that if you're so anxious for a fight that you'll sneak off to do it, you'll only try again later.  So if you're going to do this, you will do it *right!*"

 

"No low blows, Mrisa," Leader ordered, "No eye gouging or any other attempt at serious injury.  You are *both* too valuable to risk in such a foolish way."

 

"No blows to her chest, Jerrod!" Sentinel took over.  "First blood, fight is *over!*  First fall all the way to the ground, fight is over.  Three rounds, three minutes approximate each.  If you're both standing, it's a draw and I don't want to hear another word out of *anybody* either on the fight or the reasons behind it.  Am I understood!"

 

Everyone was speechless, but Leader shouted, "Am I understood!?" 

 

A murmur of yes's flowed over the crowd, but Leader had Jerrod pinned with a steel look.  "Understood," the shorter man spat finally.

 

"Understood." Mrisa agreed, cheerfully.

 

The two self-appointed referees stepped back, and then said plainly, "Now!"

 

Jerrod charged in, swinging wildly again, but was smart enough to soon realize that Mrisa was simply lightly dancing out of the way.  Snarling, he paused, then changed tactics, taking time to aim his punches with precision.  That worked better; though she blocked most, a few got through and her face quickly sported a couple of rising bruises.  That, plus the fact that she hadn't taken any shots at him, made Jerrod first cocky, then careless.

 

He dropped his guard momentarily, and that was all the opening Mrisa needed.  Her foot flew through the air as she spun to kick him in the head, the blow connecting solidly.  Without so much as a grunt, Jerrod dropped, out cold before he hit the forest floor.

 

Sentinel and Leader let the sight of Mrisa bopping over Jerrod's prone body to sink into the spectators, then Sentinel began pointing at his people.  "You, you, you - don't you have water hauling duty for the baths?  If not, you do now.  You and you - wood."  In short order he had dispersed them to the most boring, exhausting chores he could think of, satisfied with the half-ashamed faces they wore.

 

Leader merely caught the gaze of each of his tribe, then said politely.  "I believe you should go home.  William, Henry, take Jerrod."  His words hardened fractionally. "And all of you please stay home until I've spoken to you."  They melted away under his uncompromising regard, looking worried and embarrassed.

 

Exchanging a final sympathetic glance, Leader and Sentinel parted company, each mentally preparing themselves for a long, difficult day.

 

***

 

Without thinking about it, Jim's first stop was by the medical tent to speak with Dan, using the baby's teething as an excuse.  He hung around while the former M.E. mixed a batch of mildly numbing liquid for the child's gums, and with seemingly idle questions, asked the physician about his visits with the EMT of the River People.

 

"Talked a lot about local herbs, our diet, that sort of thing," Dan said absently, carefully crushing a dried green leaf.  "Mostly, though, he tried to suck my brain dry on ob-gyn stuff.  Did my best, but you know, monitoring pregnancies and delivering babies is one of those things that you have to learn hands-on.  You can talk about a firm fundus during a contraction all you want, but if you've never *felt* one....anyway, gave him the same book I used back when I was paranoid as hell about losing one of our Mothers, too."

 

The big Native American shot him a worried glance, as if expecting Jim to object.  "Remind Cap'n you need a replacement for it, next time we're on salvage," Jim said mildly.  "Bet he was really interested in why the haven't been many pregnancies since the chaos, too."

 

That stopped Dan in his tracks.  "No.." he said slowly, "Closest we came to it was talking about determining fertility.  You know, ovulation and how to gauge when a woman was releasing an egg."

 

"Dan," Jim began, letting his friend know by the use of his given name that he was going to ask a favor.  "The River People are pulling out today.  If their EMT drops by for a last visit, and I'll do my best to make sure he does, I want you to give him a copy of the notes you've made over the years about the change in body chemistry in women from SAR."

 

Eyes widening, Dan said bluntly, "Jim, that's just my personal theory.  I don't have any way to prove that women's bodies treat sperm like a potential allergen and destroy it."

 

"Then add this to your theory: River People are completely monogamous, don't allow extra-marital sex, and have had *one* child from among over 30 women for *nearly 10 years.*"

 

Taking the time to think about it, still mixing his brew, Dan argued, "That wouldn't be enough evidence to convict, Detective."

 

"Maybe not, but it would be enough for a search warrant.  At least let's get them thinking.  I may not care for how they live, but they deserve at least a chance to decide for themselves before they go extinct if our best guess is right or wrong."

 

Putting in a stopper, Dan handed Jim a bottle.  "Give that to a Nanny; it should help."  Reflectively he added, "Maybe Marcus has noticed something himself; they've had a lot more peaceful contact with non-tribal people than us.  Why didn't I think of talking to him about this earlier?"

 

"Because you've been in teacher mode and because Marcus was directing you away from the topic of *infertility* would be my guess.  They're afraid of us, Dan, and I'm not sure why or how far it goes.  For that reason, I don't want you leaving the camp without an escort until they've gone; a trained physician is too valuable. I don't think Leader would condone kidnapping, but his people are so desperate - I wouldn't be surprised if some acted without his knowledge, willing to take their lumps in the end."

 

"Come on, Jim, you don't really think.... I mean, they're narrow minded, but they're not Ravagers."

 

"The Ravagers believe that there is no future.  If the River People become convinced there isn't one for them because they can't have children... tell me what do *you* think they might or might not do?" 

 

Leaving Physician to mull that over, Sentinel waved the medicine in thanks and left.  A quick check at the sun told him the day would have begun for most of the camp.  Shaman had Nursery duty today and would be helping feed the toddlers and youngsters, so it was convenient he had a reason to go there as well.  

 

By habit Cap'n usually dropped by first thing in the morning, too.  He always brushed off his presence by claiming he was getting a report from the Nannies on how the night went, but Sentinel suspected he simply enjoyed the uncomplicated, honest demands of the smallest members of his tribe.

 

Under the cover of visiting, Sentinel quickly filled them in on his early morning events, not sparing any of the details.  After drying the last tiny bottom, Shaman hugged that baby tightly and leaned his forehead into the chest of the big man hovering so close.  Simon pinched at his nose as if he still wore his glasses. 

 

"Oh, man."  Shaman thought furiously for a second, then sighed.  "You're right; there's no way to know what they're going to do.  Maybe the best thing for us to move on.  We can honestly say the extra mouths have taxed the local ecology enough to warrant it.  And we've not only replenished the stores here, but if we go on now we have plenty of time to do the same at the next site and still have some to spare for winter."

 

"Run, Sandburg?" Cap'n growled.  "After all the patience we've shown, all we've tried to do for them, we let them run *us* off?  Like playground kids taking their ball and going home when the school yard bully shows?"

 

"There's been enough death; enough battle," Shaman said simply.  "What good would it do to take the risk of a fight more serious than clandestine brawl?"

 

"You got an opinion on this, Sentinel?" Cap'n asked wearily, already assuming no support from him. 

   

"We've always taught it takes more courage to walk away," Sentinel pointed out.  "Might be a good time to practice what we preach."  With a final hug to his lover and fast kiss to the infant head nestled on Shaman's shoulder, he added, "Do you really want to start a precedent here?  Show the kids that it's okay to fight over a difference in culture, a difference in beliefs?"

 

"Damn it, for some beliefs it is!  Freedom.  Justice." Simon snarled, but it was half-hearted. 

 

"Yes, but there is more than one way to fight.  Tell me Simon, can we afford to *kill* over *anything* any more?" Shaman asked, laying the baby in its crib and going to the door call a Nanny to take his place.  As if he didn't expect an answer, he went on.  "And we shouldn't be the only ones having this conversation.  Rather than send runners for the Elders, it might be better to drop in on them ourselves.  Meet back here in an hour?"

 

The look the Cap'n shot him was pure ire, but he muttered his agreement and stomped off.  For a second Jim and Blair grinned at each other, then headed for the door, only to be stopped by Catherine shyly slipping through it, standing just inside as if she thought she might need to run.

 

"Shaman," she whispered so softly Jim knew his partner had to strain to hear.  "I.. I know you're mad at me, and I've been feeling all icky about it, but I've been mad, too cause, cause, cause I didn't think you had any *reason,* y'know.  Then I heard Mommy say thank god we're finally getting away from these savages, so I know we're leaving, and..." She stopped and took a huge gulp of air. "I'msoscaredI'malwaysgoingtofeelickyhowdoImakeitstop?"

 

"By understanding what you did wrong and trying to fix it as best you can." Blair squatted in front of her and brushed a tangle of hair away from her face.

 

"Will you tell me what it was?" she asked, her voice even tinier.

 

"How did Sentinel get hurt?" Blair asked instead of answering her directly.

 

"Uh, 'cause I bumped into him?"

 

"Bumped, Catherine?"

 

Sulkily she looked down at the ground, but Blair put a finger under her chin to coax her face up.  "Bumped?" he repeated.

 

"Shoved," she admitted, still a little sulky.

 

"So, it wasn't an accident was it?" Blair asked patiently.  She shook her head.  "So you did it on purpose, and even if you didn't want to hurt anybody, you *did.*  And you've never once said you were sorry for hurting Sentinel, or tried to tell me what bothered you so bad you had to hit us."

 

"I didn't *mean* to," Catherine wailed in the ageless defense of all children.

 

"But you did," Blair asserted calmly.  "And did *nothing* about it, not even admit you did.  That's why I'm angry with you.  And the only way you can fix it is to make me believe it bothered you that someone was hurt because of what you did.  That's called regret, Catherine.  And I don't think I want to be friends with a little girl who doesn't feel regret at other people's pain."

 

The first tears welled up in her eyes, and she asked shakily, "You'd be my friend?"

 

"In a second, if you'd let me."

 

Sniffing, rubbing the back of her  hand over her nose, she  said, "That's why I was mad. At the boat, I mean.  I liked you and wanted to be your friend, but you were *his* friend instead."

 

"Catherine, I can have more than one friend."

 

"But you're not *sposed* to have a man friend that you hug and kiss!"  she cried, sounding a little indignant now.

 

"Is that why you used that awful word?  Hearing that from you really hurt my feelings."

 

For the first time she looked ashamed, and she tried to hide her face again.  Shaman didn't allow it, and she mumbled.  "Mommy told me it was a really, really bad word and that it meant somebody who let people touch them when they weren't supposed to."

 

Grateful the child couldn't read Shaman as well as he could, Sentinel beat down a sigh, and longed to hold his increasingly upset lover.  Shaman hid one, too, then asked sadly, "Can you tell me now what you did wrong?"

 

"I, uh," she looked up at him for encouragement, didn't find it, and sucked in a half-sobby breath.  "I hit you and Sentinel.  And that made him burn hisself.  And I used a really bad word cause I was mad and wanted to hurt you with it."

 

"And what are you going to do to make it better for me?"

 

That stumped her, but they both waited, and she finally grinned and scrambled toward Jim, catching him totally off guard.  She held up her arms to be picked up, and he automatically complied, turning down his dial at her smell.  With a resounding smack, she kissed his cheek.  "That's sorry for burning you."  She did the same to his other cheek, giggling a bit.  "And that's for saving me from the rats."

 

"Catherine," Jim grinned his approval.  "You're very welcome.  And it took a very brave little girl to face those rats, and an even braver one to face Shaman when he's mad."

 

"Not so brave," she scoffed.  "I didn't want to get et, and *all* the other kids told me Shaman would make it better if I let him."  With a fast hug to Jim's neck, she wiggled down and ran over to Blair.  "All better now?"

 

Solemnly Blair inclined his head, "*Much* better now. Thank you.  And Catherine, I think Leader will be very, very proud of you for apologizing."

 

"Really?"  With a child's typical abrupt mood change, she smiled sunnily at him.

 

"Really, and you should go to him right now and tell him you did."

 

"Okay, then."  Without warning she bent over and bussed Shaman noisily on the end of his nose.  "I'm your friend, always, even if I never get to see you again.  'kay?"

 

Finding a smile for himself at least, Shaman agreed.  "Always, even if I never see you again."

 

"Bye then!"  She ran out, hollering for Leader as she went, and Blair slowly straightened, shaking his head in amusement.

 

From the cribs they both heard Nanny Baker mumbled, "Well, will wonders *never* cease."

 

Wiping a bit of spit off Blair's nose, Jim murmured, "Not when Shaman is around, anyway."

 

******

 

Interestingly enough, in Sentinel's opinion, the Elders hardly needed more than the suggestion, as if they, too, had had enough of the river and its inhabitants.  By mid-day, the decision had been made and preparations were quietly, discretely made to break camp.  By unspoken agreement, the matter wasn't openly discussed, but every person who saw the work being done gave a helping hand.

 

Between a normal day's duties and readying for departure, Sentinel and Shaman both spent the day trying to be in three places at once.  By the end of it Sentinel was exhausted, fighting not to lose his temper, and failing to the point that he nearly refused when Stush asked to speak to him privately.

 

If it hadn't been for the frantic heartbeat and faint scent of fear from the normally placid young man, he would have.  Reining himself in, he studied Stush objectively, noting the red-rimmed eyes and mussed hair.  Seeing his pride and joy neglected like that tipped the scale for Sentinel, and he motioned curtly toward the lookout.

 

Unsurprisingly there were other heartbeats, Shaman's among them, already there.  He found his mate inside, pacing back and forth worriedly in front of Matt and a handsome young River Man, both showing signs of tears and grief.  Stifling a groan of aggravation - the last thing he wanted to be doing was playing at marriage counselor - Sentinel took his place to Shaman's left.

 

"Let me guess," he bit out, "You want us to sponsor your lover's adoption into the tribe."

 

Math shrank at the harshness in his tone, and Shaman rocked back so that his heel came down on his partner's toe.  Not enough to hurt, it was a very clear, "Shut up," and Jim knew better than to mess with either Blair or Shaman when he got that pissed at him.

 

Before either of them could go on, however, Matt defiantly took the River Man's hand, twining their fingers together.  "His name is Daniel, and yes, I'd like him to stay with us, and he wants to.  But that's not why we needed to talk to you.  There's something you have to know."

 

Daniel turned hazel eyes on Matt, eyes that shone with love and admiration.  They stared at each other a second, lost in some silent message that made Sentinel feel like an intruder, and more than a little ashamed of his first outburst.  When Matt tore his gaze away, Sentinel said politely.  "Hello, Daniel.  What can we do for you?"

 

"Ah, I'm not sure, that is," he stuttered, then clenching his fists at his side, Daniel started over slowly.  "You have to understand, they really, really believe it's the right thing to do, and if they talk Leader into it, even the ones that doubt it will go along because, because, well, because..." He stumbled to a halt, flashed a despairing glance at his lover and unconsciously stepped close.

 

Wrapping a shaky arm around Daniel's slender waist, Matt leaned against the barely taller body for a second, then whispered, "Go on."

 

"Yes, please," Shaman encouraged, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the frightened River man's arm.  "I promise that we'll listen, not judge or blame.  Okay?"

 

Daniel's answering smile was uncertain, but he took a deep breath and said clearly, "I've always been taught that any kind of sex except between a married man and woman was wrong, even evil.  The way of the Ravager.  I've *despised* myself for years for wanting what I'd heard about in laughing whispers from older men, and tried hard not to think about it.  To be normal.

 

"Then I met Matt," and he blushed crimson, the heat washing unpleasantly over Sentinel's nerves even at the distance between them.  "And, uh - s..saw you and uh, s..Shaman, and I had to ask myself if being normal was what I really needed.  If it was really wrong." 

 

He gulped, bracing himself and blurted, "Sentinel, Shaman, my people - no, that's not right anymore, they're the people who raised me, now."  He stopped, almost gasping in pain and confusion, but collected himself.  "Most of the River People think that your tribe is little better than Ravagers.  They don't believe you're fit to raise children; that you're perverted, and will corrupt innocent lives.  Some of them are even hinting that you have some kind of breeding program going on, so there'll always be plenty of perverts like yourselves."

 

Crossing his legs to collapse gracefully, Shaman groaned, hiding his face in his hands.  More practical, Sentinel asked woodenly, "What are they planning on doing about it?"  Both Matt and Daniel looked startled, so he added, "If they weren't making plans, you wouldn't have asked to talk to just the two of us.  You would have spoken out at the community fire this evening, Matt."

 

Behind them, Stush spoke for the first time.  "They didn't know what t'do, t'be honest.  Found 'em half hysterical, plannin' on runnin' off by theirselves.  Took a while t'get t'all out of em."

 

Acknowledging that with an inclination of his head, Sentinel prodded gently.  "Do you want him to finish for you?"

 

"N.. no," Daniel said, sitting tiredly.  Everyone else followed suit but Sentinel who leaned on the doorframe instead.  "I'm not sure it's really going to happen, but people were talking about stealing your children," he confessed bluntly.  "All the girls and any boy under five."

 

Horrified, Shaman made to leap to his feet, but a fast hand on his knee from Matt stopped him.  "Let him finish.  Please?"

 

With a wild look at his mate, Shaman let himself be persuaded, but his hands knotted into his lap.  "All right." 

 

In no better shape himself, fighting the impulse to reach for his gun and go hunting, Sentinel sharply nodded his agreement as well.

 

This time Daniel was the one to lean into his lover for comfort, but he continued calmly.  "Mrs. Taylor agrees taking them is the right thing, and that means there's a good chance Leader will go along with her.  I don't know what they do on their own boat, but in public, he never contradicts her or goes against her wishes.  Mostly, if you don't think he'll do it, you ask her to get him to do it.

 

"Not that he's a wuss," the River Man went on hastily.  "Or that she's a ball-breaker or anything.  Honest.  I think."  He stopped short, and Sentinel got the impression it was the first time Daniel had actually considered it before.  "I think he's sorry for her because she doesn't get something she needs from him.  A baby, maybe." he finished thoughtfully.

 

//Or his heart.// Jim thought, pity coloring his memory of the times he'd caught the River Leader staring at him and Blair.  Aloud, he said firmly, "I can't see him agreeing to anything as drastic as kidnapping, no matter what."

 

That dissolved some of the tension in the younger men, but it was short-lived relief because Sentinel had to ask, "Will his men defy him?  On this?"

 

"I... I... I don't know," Daniel mumbled miserably. 

 

Crossing over, Sentinel knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder and waiting until the young man felt strong enough to face him.  "It doesn't matter; your warning was all we needed.  All you have to worry about now is deciding if you want to stay with us, find another tribe, or try to take on your own people with Matt by your side.  Whatever you choose, you can count on our support, I promise."

 

"I don't want anyone hurt!" Daniel nearly wailed.

 

"We can't promise that," Shaman murmured, then added what reassurance he could, "But we don't want anyone hurt, either.  It depends mostly on them."

 

"What're y'plannin'?" Stush asked calmly.

 

Finding his mate's eyes for a confirmation, Sentinel said levelly, "Ghost Walk."

 

Stush nodded his satisfaction. "For t'best."

 

Briskly Sentinel stood, drawing Matt and Daniel with him.  "Matt, explain to him on the way.  He doesn't know woodcraft; you'll have to travel with the children so the hunters can hide your trail, okay?" 

 

He tapped Daniel's arm once, to make sure of his attention.  "Don't go back to the boats, Daniel.  Do you hear me?  Do Not Go Back for Anything!  If you sincerely want to join us, the decision is now.  Get to the nursery and wait there for word."  With a gentle shove he sent them on their way, though he held back Stush with a gesture.

 

When they were out of earshot, Sentinel cocked his head and waited expectantly, letting his face ask his question for him.  Stush met him head on and said frankly, "I knew Matt had feelings for me, but I can't return them the same way so I pretended not to notice.   

 

"Then he met Daniel, and the attraction was pretty much instant and very intense.  But Daniel never had, and Matt only remembered being abused and was scared of it hurting like it did when he was a little kid.  Why they came to me and not Shaman to ask for help, I don't know, but they did, and I said yes because they wanted each other so much it hurt to see."

 

Very, very quietly, he went on, "Nobody should have to need someone that much and not be able to touch them." Stush fell silent, thinking, then lit up.  "Man, it was *beautiful.*  If I hadn't gotten so much as a kiss from them, I would have been grateful all my life just for being allowed to be there.  But they wouldn't let me go hungry, and never made me feel like I was in the way."

 

"You did the right thing, Stush," Shaman interrupted gently.  "And I'm glad you've healed enough from whatever is was that brought you back to us that you can share again.  What we don't understand is why come to us with Daniel's warning?  The order to Walk should come from the Elders, or the Cap'n at least."

 

For the first time Stush looked uncomfortable, and his slip back into city slang proved it.  "They was scared.  Thought talkin' t'ya, t' men lovers 'stead of Elders, be easier for 'em."

 

"And..." Sentinel prompted when the younger man trailed off uncertainly.

 

"And t'River People *aren't* bad, just got big troubles," Stush insisted, suddenly sure of himself.  "We c'n Walk but the trouble would still be there, and t'next tribe might not get a warning like we did.  'Sides, it's not right t'walk away and not try t'do something to help.  I didn't think t'Elders would listen t'me and a coupla scared kids asking f'help for 'em.  I hoped ya would, especially after talking to 'em y'selves."

 

"Stush," Jim began solemnly, "You underestimate how much respect the Cap'n has for you.  You've become his Number One, the man he can trust to be there when he can't.  The Elders know that, too."  He would have laughed at the younger man's dropped jaw, but he didn't want to spoil the impact he hoped his words would have on Stush.  "Now, get out of here and go talk to him about starting the Walk.  We'll all meet back here when the others have left."

 

For the second time that day Sentinel had to use a shove to get someone moving, and he did so while hiding a smile.  When Stush was gone, he let his grin show, sharing it with his mate.  "So what should we do to help Leader and his people?" he asked smugly, expecting to catch Blair off guard with his assumption.

 

"What if I don't think we should?" Blair shot back, just as smug. 

 

Tilting his head to one side, Jim crossed his arms and did a reasonable imitation of being immovable.  "Then I wait for you to give me all the arguments I know you have lined up under those curls of yours, insist on doing it anyway, we have a hell of a fight, make up, have spectacular sex, then do whatever you wanted in the first place."

 

"Want to skip straight to the sex?" Blair laughed, leaning in to cup Jim intimately.

 

Sucking in a breath, feeling himself stir, Jim snatched a fast kiss, then got out of range before he could be side-tracked completely.  "Hold that thought?" he asked regretfully.

 

He didn't miss the flash of disappointment in his lover's eyes, but all Blair did was murmur, "Sorry; you're right, we have to get moving."

 

Not willing to let him think he was being second again, Jim said, "Aw, fuck 'em," and swept Blair up against his chest to kiss him deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of his lover's sweet mouth in raw imitation of what he wanted.  Blair took it eagerly, pressing himself hard into the ravishment he was receiving.

  

Nearly whimpering the smaller man yanked his head away, shivering when Jim tackled the line of his neck as a substitute for his lips.  "Jim, wait.  Wait," Blair panted hoarsely.

 

"Why?  No lube?"

 

Drawing back enough to peer up at Jim, Blair said, "You're serious.  You're really serious." 

 

For a response, Jim rubbed his erection over his mate's stomach, and tried to re-claim the hot cavern enticing him.

 

Pulling away in slow motion, letting his hands pat and soothe, Blair asked almost timidly, "Is this change permanent?"

 

That calmed Jim more than the love-touches, and he stepped back himself, showing his reluctance with a grimace.  "Yeah, I think it is," he admitted.  "Like you said, acting instead of reacting, Chief.  I *know* what I want for my future, and I'm working on it now.  And the first step is never again letting you think, feel, or be *anything* but first in my life."

 

With a trembling finger Blair reached out to tenderly trace Jim's lips.  "Every time I think I couldn't possibly love you more," he whispered with a quaver in his voice, "I discover I haven't even begun to love you enough.  Thank you."

 

"Thank *you*, My Blair," Jim murmured.  He kissed his mate again, this time with a fervent ardor that spoke of heart's need instead of passion.

 

Blair only let it last for a sweet minute, then sighed and lifted his mouth away.  "Much as I hate to admit it, I couldn't relax enough to enjoy making love right now, anyway, My Jim.  I need to know the kids are safe first."

 

Letting duty reclaim him, Jim straightened, threaded the fingers of one hand through one of Blair's, and drew his mate outside to begin walking down into camp.  "We're safe enough in the daylight," he decided, thinking aloud for his partner's benefit.  "My guess is that it will take time to try first to convince Leader, then to act if/when he refuses.  And they probably won't want to risk their own lives in a frontal attack, so they'll go for stealth, a night raid."

 

"Aren't they going to be surprised when they get here," Blair said dryly.  Then  he added thoughtfully a second later, "Or maybe we shouldn't wait to surprise them."

 

"Oh, no," Jim groused.  "Here we go again."

 

****

 

Using the natural lapping of the water against the boats to hide the tiny splashes he made, Sentinel swam under cover of night to the side of the main barge of the River People, barely keeping his eyes above water to watch for sentries.  Through the gurgle of water in his ears he could hear the agitated, anxious voice of Leader's clan, and under *that* the steady breathing and careful swimming of Stush and Shaman approaching on differing sides.

 

Tuning both out, he concentrated on locating guards, but couldn't find any.  Either the River People were so arrogant they felt they didn't need them, or the argument at the front of the barge was so intense the sentries were foolishly left their posts to participate.  Nevertheless Jim climbed the rungs up to the deck cautiously, unconsciously slinking back into a covert mind-set, despite the years since he had used it last.

 

Once on board he crept along the railing, staying in shadows thrown by the flickering electric lights, until he found a hiding place not far from the main congregation where he could see and hear easily.  To either side of him he saw/heard/smelt his companions do the same. 

 

Leader was standing on a small platform at the very bow of the ship, facing his entire population placidly.  His was the only calm face and voice; everyone else reflected varying degrees of frustration, anger, and fear.  He let the rumble of voices go on for a few more minutes, then gestured for silence.  It fell almost immediately, and he spoke sternly to the crowd.  "And I'm telling you we do not have the right to judge.  We saw nothing in Freedom Tribe's camp to indicate the children are in any physical danger.  They are neither abused nor neglected, and in fact, give every indication of being healthy, happy youngsters."

 

Standing a few feet in front of him, obviously speaking for the majority of the people, Margaret Taylor argued passionately, "You were an officer of the law, once.  You know that appearances can be deceiving and that a danger doesn't have to be obvious.  A drug user can be fully functional on the surface with the damage done by his habit revealed only when he makes that first mistake that spirals him down into disaster."

 

"Illegal drug usage is not the same as a life-style choice, Mrs. Taylor," Leader replied formally.  "To make an ethical judgment on Freedom Tribe because we do not approve of their culture is perilously close to condemning *any* practice we do not have ourselves as immoral, regardless of its value to its practioneers.  Are we going to remove the Fresaka's child from them because they are Islams and will insist she wear a veil when she grows up?  Or refuse aid to a stranger because he *is* a stranger and we don't know his custom?

 

"We were *both* officers of the law, madam, and as such we exercised the will of the court through the laws established by the people and for the people.  The Freedom Tribe has broken no law set forth by the common will of its people.  We have no right to interfere with their lives or the lives of their children."

 

There were disturbed, doubtful rumblings at his speech, and for a moment Sentinel wondered if their leader's charisma would be enough by itself to carry them past this crisis.  But then his wife spoke again, disdain and contempt clear in her words.  "If we shared a common law, a duly appointed judge could be called on to make the decision of what is right, *RIGHT,* Sir, for those children.  Not for their culture, not for their parents, for *THEM.* It is their welfare that we must keep in mind, and since we have no judge to turn to, we *MUST* be the judges ourselves!"

 

Instinct told Sentinel that Shaman would use those words for his cue, and a moment later his mate glided into the lighted circle nearest the podium and asked loudly, "And how many will die to enforce that judgment, Mrs. Taylor?"

 

To the entranced crowd listening closely to the debate between the Leader and his wife, Shaman's sudden bid for their attention had all the impact of a magician appearing in a puff of smoke.  In the dead silence that followed, Shaman strode over to stand beside Leader, putting his back to the water. That gave Stush and Sentinel only two sides to watch, and the ex-cop visually checked for the young man to make sure he was in place, weapon ready.

 

Up front Shaman addressed the crowd again.  "And rest assured, you *will* have to kill.   We will die to the man if we must to protect our children."

 

"*OUR* children?" Margaret shouted scornfully.

 

"Our children," Shaman told her, much more quietly.  Though he spoke in low tones, his words carried clearly to every ear on the barge.  "It doesn't matter to us who provided the seed or whose womb carried the growing infant.  Each and every child is *my* daughter or son, is the Captain's daughter or son, is Number One's daughter or son."

 

He pointed at a spectator on the rim of mass of people, "You could die tomorrow from SAR, from the bullet of a Ravager, from a mis-step on your own boat that breaks open your head.  If you had a child, who would care for it?  Provide for your orphan?  Love him through his grief?

 

"Freedom Tribe never has orphans.  If I die, I will be mourned and missed, but the children I help raise will never fear being alone or hungry because I am gone.  And I will die knowing that each and every person in my community would die to protect *my* little ones.

 

"I repeat, are you willing to kill to try to take them from us?  And how many of *you* are willing to die along with us?  For we will not hesitate to defend ourselves and them."

 

"Brave words for a man standing unarmed on another man's boat!"  Someone shouted.

 

Sentinel found him immediately, marking him in his mind as a potential shooter, and went back to scanning the rest of the near-mob.

 

"Brave indeed!" Leader answered loudly.  As if solely to Shaman he asked, "If you knew of our plans, why not wait until we attacked and then defended? Or simply leave?"

 

The last made Sentinel smile, despite the dire circumstances.  If any of the River People had been there as witnesses a few hours earlier, they would have seen the inhabitants of the camp pick up a child or a bundle or some food, walk toward the forest, then simply vanish.  They could have gone into the huts, finding everything sitting where the owner had dropped it when he had been told "Ghost Walk."  If they had trackers, they could have searched the surroundings, finding nothing to indicate the passage of the tribe, nothing to indicate any human had ever been nearby but the deserted huts and cooling fire embers.

 

To Freedom Tribe, possessions or dwellings or even food were things to simply be abandoned if danger were close.  They could live off the bounty of the land, collecting together again as a group slowly at a spot always pre-arranged the first day in a new camp.  Later, if and when it was safe, runners could be sent back for anything particularly missed.

 

With luck, though, the River People would never learn about that little trick in the tribe's book.  With luck and the persuasive, intelligent words of the man standing in front of a pissed-off mob with a bulleye's practically drawn on his chest.  Still watching the audience more than the speaker, Sentinel went back to guarding his mate, listening himself with half an ear.

 

In the silence that stretched out after Leader's question, Shaman tried to meet as many eyes in the crowd as possible, want them to see *him* not an enemy, not a stranger but a man they had seen laughing and working only the day before.

 

"I came here because I believe with all my heart and soul that humans can no longer afford to make war," he said earnestly. "How many of us are left?  How many more die everyday from things we have no control over?  If the human race is worth saving, and I need only watch our children playing in the sun to believe that it is, there can be *No More Fighting Among Us.*  And if you don't believe the same, you may as well leave these boats and join the Ravagers, because there is no hope for you."

 

Waiting for a reaction, Shaman left the podium to stand toe-to-toe to Margaret, intentionally making her the person for the River People who would argue with him.  "Freedom Tribe does not  wish to be enemies with the River People," he said into the hush.  "When we go our separate ways, we don't want to have to warn other tribes, other generations about you.  What can be said or done to create peace between us for good?"

 

The mixture of shame and pride sat oddly on Margaret's face until Leader came to stand beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders for support.  She stared at him for a second, then straightened until she was stiff in his embrace.  "I don't know if there can be.  You are so *wrong* to me."

 

"Because we love for the soul and heart of a person, not their gender?" Shaman questioned. " Because we believe that a woman is more than a vehicle for pregnancy?  Because we choose to live *with* Mother Earth, not on her?"

 

"Because you're succeeding!" Meg blurted.  "You *do* have a future; it's running alongside those children you cherish so much.  We have only *her,*"  She waved irritably in the general direction of Catherine who was asleep, dirty and grease-stained, in her mother's arms.  "It's like saying that we're wrong, that we have been all along.  That the past that we cherish and want to re-establish was worthless."  Her voice rose, becoming nearly shrill.  "Loyalty is worthless.  Fidelity is worthless.  Family is worthless.  *I* am worthless for living a life devoted to them!  I Cannot Accept That!"

 

With a gentleness that must have shocked Margaret to the core, Shaman reached into Leader's protective circle and took her hands in his own.  "One man shows his love by writing sonnets and bringing flowers.  Another shows his love by making sure you don't go out in the rain without a slicker and having hot tea for you when you do.

 

"My lover and I have been together since before the chaos, and he left the city to follow me into the wilderness to build a new life.  Loyalty.  Though we have both bedded with women to have children, we have never betrayed the oaths that bound us together as husband and spouse.   Fidelity.  Between us we have 5 children, none of which call us father and all of whom we trust our entire village to raise as Father and Mother.  Family.  And ours is *one* story among those adults.

 

"Want to hear another one about loyalty?  Remember the scars our Cap'n carries on his face?  He got them in the food riots in Cascade because we asked him to stay there as long as possible to help as many as possible escape.  A good friend, Joel Taggert, died when he shoved the Cap'n down, taking the bullet that would have killed him because Joel didn't know the way to our hidden camp and the Cap'n did.  I can go on and on and on, Margaret.

 

"Our definitions may look different on the surface, but that's only the surface.  In the old days, when a judge made a decision to take a child from his family, he tried to take *everything* into consideration, and did it as objectively as he could manage.  After only two weeks, after only seeing us through the assumptions you had already made, do you really know enough about us to be our judge, Margaret Taylor?"

 

Leader brushed his hand over her hair, but spoke to his people. "I believe with all my heart that any judge hearing this as a case would say Freedom Tribe loves their offspring and acts in the best interests for the children's safety, health and well-being.  If you disagree with me, then I have failed you as leader and must step down.  Indeed, as I could never willingly condone the removal of any child from his loving family by force, I could no longer remain as a member of this community.  The decision is yours, of course, but please be warned that you will find yourselves facing me as well as the Freedom Tribe on the battle field."

 

With that, and not so much as look backwards, Leader turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a dead silence behind him.  Shaman chose to use their frozen stare at his retreating back as a diversion and slipped away over the nearest railing.  Mentally heaving an enormous sigh of relief, Sentinel waited to make sure Stush was on his way, then made his own departure.

 

Once in the water, he listened for Blair's heartbeat and breathing, then swam for him, finding his mate clinging to an anchor rope and shaking violently.  As soon as Jim was close enough, Blair swarmed over him, using the buoyancy of the water to hide his face in the curve of the bigger man's shoulder.  "Oh, man, oh, man," he whispered.  "Was it enough, Jim?  Was it enough?"

 

Unable to return his embrace, Jim held onto the rope for both of them to keep them afloat and let the water rock them soothingly.  "I hope so, Chief.  I hope so."

 

***

 

In the mists of early dawn, the members of Freedom Tribe that had remained behind stood on the bluff overlooking the river and watched their new acquaintances pulled up anchor.  Only a single River Man had left the water that morning, coming into the deserted camp with an almost superstitious fear crowding his actions and features. 

 

Jarrod carried a bundle of belongings for Daniel that Jim suspected David had packed for him, a slender notebook for Physician, and a personal note to Shaman.  Stammering a good bye for his people, he had left, nearly running in his haste to leave the spooky dwellings behind.  Cap'n hadn't been able to totally hide his guffaw, but the strangled noise had only added to the eerie atmosphere. 

 

Giving the moving boats a sardonic waggle of his fingers good-bye, Simon didn't bother to muffle his laughter now.  "Guess you must have made an impression on them last night, Sandburg, ghosting on and off the barge like that."

 

"God, I hope not," Blair said promptly.  "The idea was to get their attention so they'd listen to me.  *Not* start another legend about Shaman."

 

"Don't let him get to you, Chief," Jim said mildly, searching the figures offshore for one in particular.  "You did make an impression, the one we wanted, and that's only fair, cause they certainly made one on us."

 

"Now that's t'truth," Stush agreed.  "They mighta been strange in t'head, but they had a good idea or two."

 

"You just like boats," Mrisa argued.

 

"What's wrong with 'em?" Stush argued back.

 

"Well, how long do you think the gas stores are going to last, for starters?"  Mrisa said triumphantly.

 

"More'n one way t'move a boat."

 

The two of them wandered off, debating just how useful boats were, bumping against one another like two adolescents vying for attention.

 

Shaking his head, Simon laughed again, but this time at himself.  "The thing is, the kid *is* right; they did have a couple ideas we could make use of.  Think there's some kind of wagon or something we could make so we could carry a few luxuries with us? So we wouldn't have to worry about Nanny Baker keeping up with us or someone sick having to walk?"

 

Not wanting to disappoint Simon too much, Jim searched for words that wouldn't be too blunt and hurtful.  Before he could speak, Blair beat him to it.  "Wagons take roads, and that takes manpower.  If we stick to ones already made, we become targets for the Ravagers.   But why does it have to be a mobile refuge, Simon?"

 

"Cause we don't stay in one place for some very good reason, Sandburg," Banks snapped, disappointment sharpening his words.

 

"Well, I've been thinking about that," Blair answered blandly.  "There's no reason *all* of us have to travel *all* the time is there?"

 

That yanked Jim's attention away from the river, and he stared at his mate as hard as Simon did.  "No," the sentinel said reflectively, "No, there's not.  In fact, when we first started this, we had an emergency back up plan in case going native didn't work.  We planned on trying to maintain a strong hold at a survivalist compound designed to keep 10 people alive for 20 years."

 

"That's right, that's why our territory's border is the way it is; we didn't want to be more than three days hard march from it," Simon confirmed.  "You made me and a couple of Elders memorize the location."

 

"We've never needed it," Blair added, "but why does it have to be a fall back that's never visited?  Why can't it be like a monastery or university where a few people live because they need to or want to stop ranging for a while?  Older people, like Nanny Baker, could live there comfortably, with a small garden and regular stays by hunters to replenish the meat.  They could even domesticate some small animals for milk in case we needed it for a baby with no nursing mother available."

 

"We could keep the books there,"  Simon pointed out, excitement rising.  "Music.  Hot water.  Refrigeration.  Man, I bet we could find a way to make ice cream."

 

"No sugar," Jim felt obligated to point out, but Simon didn't seem to hear him.

 

"Kids could range with the bulk of the tribe, but once in a while they could got visit and get some education.  Maybe routinely rotate them to it for both that and to be strong backs for the old or infirm." Simon went on excitedly.  "Or if someone needed temporary nursing..."

 

"Like Laz," Blair broke in.  "Jim say's she smells pregnant, though it'll be a couple weeks before we'll be sure.  You know she's lost two babies already; started bleeding at about 4 months both times.  If she could stay in bed, only get up for necessities, Dan says she would have a better chance of carrying to term."

 

"Yeah, yeah!" Simon was becoming enthused.  Taking Blair by the arm, he started off the direction Stush and Mrisa had taken earlier.  Blair flashed a half-alarmed, half-amused look at his partner, but let himself be dragged away.

 

Jim watched them go, then turned for a last look at the fleet slowly tooling down stream past him.  The barge brought up the rear, and at the stern he finally spotted the person he had been looking for.  Leader was standing there staring up at the bluff, and again Jim could swear their eyes met even over the distance.  They both smiled, and Leader mouthed the words that had been on the note for Shaman.

 

"Thank you."

 

Jim nodded his understanding that Leader was thanking them for taking the chance to help, and for something more personal, too.  Maybe some day he would have a chance to ask David exactly what it was.  The two of them held their gaze for a minute longer, then he heard Simon shout irritably, "Domino!  What kind of name is *that* for a baby?* 

 

His words and Blair dry, amused answer "And Cascade if it's a girl," pulled his attention away long enough to catch Simon's outraged expression and his lover's amused one.  By the time the two of them dropped down the slope enough he could no longer see them and he looked back at the barges, Leader was already absorbed in his duties on board.

 

Never the less, Jim said loudly, "You're welcome," then turned to follow his tribe and his mate.

 

 

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