Hana turned and hurried up the riverbank. The woman screaming was Sada, her mother's sister^ and the
girl who was stumbling beside her was Ryl, Hana's little cousin.
Ryl was a pretty girl, ten years old. But right now she looked dazed and almost unconscious. And her
neck and the front of her leather tunic were smeared with blood.
"What happened?" Hana gasped, running to put her arms around her cousin.
"She was out looking for new greens. I found her lying on the ground-I thought she was dead!" Sada's
face contorted in grief. She was speaking rapidly, almost incoherently. "And look at this-look at her
neck!"
On Ryl's pale neck, in the center of the blood, Hana could just make out two small marks. They looked
like the marks of sharp teeth-but only two teeth.
"It had to be an animal," Ket breathed from behind Hana. "But what animal only leaves the marks of two
teeth?"
Hana's heart felt tight and oddly heavy at once- like a stone falling inside her. Sada was already
speaking.
"It wasn't an animal! She says it was a man, a boy! She says he threw her down and bit her-and he
drank her blood." Sada began to sob, clutching Ryl to her. "Why would he want to do that? Oh, please,
somebody help me! My daughter's been hurt!"
Ryl just stared dazedly over her mother's arm.
Ket said faintly, "A boy..."
Hana gulped and said, "Let's take her to Old Mother ..." But then she stopped and looked toward the
river.
The men were driving the stranger up the bank. He was snarling, terrified and angry-but when he saw
Ryl, his expression changed.
He stared at her, his wounded animal eyes sick and dismayed. To Hana, it seemed as if he could hardly
stand to look at her, but he couldn't look away. His gaze was fixed on the little girl's throat.
And then he turned away, his eyes shut, his head falling into his hands. Every movement showed anguish.
It was as if all the fight had gone out of him at once.
Hana looked back and forth in horror from the girl with blood on her throat to the stranger with blood
on his mouth. The connection was obvious and nobody had to make it out loud.
But why? she thought, feeling nauseated and dizzy. Why would anybody want to drink a girl's blood?
No animal and no human did that.
He must be a demon after all.
Arno stepped forward. He gripped Ryl's chin gently, turning her head toward the stranger.
"Was he the one who attacked you?"
Ryl's dazed eyes stared straight ahead-and then she suddenly seemed to focus. Her pupils got big and
she looked at the face of the stranger.
Then she started screaming.
Screaming and screaming, hands flying up to cover her eyes. Her mother began to sob, rocking her.
Some of the men began to shout at the stranger, jabbing spears at him, overcome with shock and horror.
All the sounds merged together in a terrifying cacophony in Hana's head.
Hana found herself trembling. She reached automatically for little Ryl, not knowing how to comfort her.
Ket was crying. Sada was wailing as she held her child. People were streaming out of the limestone cave,
yelling, trying to find out what all the noise was about.
And through it all, the stranger huddled, his eyes shut, his face a mask of grief.
Arno's voice rose above the others. "I think we hunters know what to do with him. This is no longer a
matter for shamans!" He was looking at Hana as he said it.
Hana looked back. She couldn't speak. There was no reason for her to care what happened to the
stranger-but she did care. He had hurt her cousin... but he was so wretched, so unhappy.
Maybe he couldn't help it, she thought suddenly. She didn't know where the idea came from, but it was
the kind of instinct that made Old Mother say she should be a shaman. Maybe ... he didn't want
to do it, but something drove him to. And now he's sorry and ashamed. Maybe... oh, I don't know!
Still trembling, she found herself speaking out loud again. "You can't just kill him. You have to take him
to Old Mother."
"It's none of her business!"
"It's her business if he's a demon! You're just co-leader, Arno. You take care of the hunting. But Old
Mother is the leader in spiritual things."
Arno's face went tight and angry. "Fine, then," he said. "We take him to Old Mother."
Jabbing with their spears, the men drove the stranger into the cave. By then, most of the people of the
clan had gathered around and they were muttering angrily.
Old Mother was the oldest woman in the clan- the great grandmother of Hana and Ryl and almost
everybody. She had a face covered with wrinkles and a body like a dried stick. But her dark eyes were
full of wisdom. She was the clan's shaman. She was the one who interceded directly with the Earth
Goddess, the Bright Mother, the Giver of Life who was above all other spirits.
She listened to the story seriously, sitting on her leather pallet while the others crowded around her.
Hana edged close to her and Ryl was placed in her lap.
"They want to kill him," Hana murmured in the old woman's ear when the story was over. "But look at
his eyes. I know he's sorry, and I think maybe he didn't mean to hurt Ryl. Can you talk to him, Old
Mother?"
Old Mother knew a lot of different languages; she'd
traveled very far when she had been young. But now, after trying several, she shook her head.
"Demons don't speak human languages," Arno said scornfully. He was standing with his spear ready .
although the stranger squatting in front of the old woman showed no signs of trying to run away.
"He's not a demon," Old Mother said, with a se--veie glance at Amo. Then she added slowly, "But he's
certainly not a man, either. I'm not sure what he is. The Goddess has never told me anything about
people like him."
"Then obviously the Goddess isn't interested," Arno said with a shrug. "Let the hunters take care of him."
Hana gripped the old woman's thin shoulder. Old Mother put a twiglike hand on Hana's. Her dark eyes
were grave and sad.
"The one thing we do know is that he's capable of great harm," she said softly. "I'm sorry, child, but I
think Arno is right." Then she turned to Arno. "It's getting dark. We'd better shut him up somewhere
tonight; then in the morning we can decide what to do with him. Maybe the Goddess will tell me
something about him as I sleep."
But Hana knew better. She saw the look on Arno's face as he and the other hunters led the stranger
away. And she heard the cold and angry muttering of others in the clan.
In the morning the stranger would die. Unpleasantly, if Arno had his way.
It was probably what he deserved. It was none of Hana's business. But that night, as she lay on her
leather pallet underneath her warm furs, she couldn't sleep.
It was as if the Goddess were poking her, telling her that something was wrong. Something had to be
done. And there was nobody else to do it.
Hana thought about the look of anguish in the stranger's eyes.
Maybe ... if he went somewhere far away ... he couldn't hurt other people. Out on the steppes there
were no people to hurt. Maybe that was what the Goddess wanted. Maybe he was some creature that
had wandered out of the spirit world and the Goddess would be angry if he were Jailed.
Hana didn't know; she wasn't a shaman fef. All she knew was that she felt pity for the stranger and she
couldn't keep still any longer.
A short time before dawn she got up. Very quietly, she went to the back of the cave and picked up a
spare waterskin and some hard patties of traveling food. Then she crept to the side cave where the
stranger was shut up.
The hunters had set a sort of fence in front of the cave, like the fences they used to trap animals. It was
made of branches and bones lashed together with cords. A hunter was beside the fence, one hand on his
spear. He was leaning back against the cave wall, and he was asleep with his mouth open.
Hana edged past him. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain it would wake him up. But the
hunter didn't move.