Sleepily, Test murmured, "Neat. C'trine had 'n 'venture 'n got her own story 'n ev'thing." He tried to perk up, widening his eyes dramatically, but then yawned a split second later. "Will I have a 'venture someday, y'think?"

"Well," Shaman said, "that's the funny thing about adventures. For the most part, you don't know you're having one until its all said and done. It's not until other people start talking about it that you realize that it was, and when they talk about it long after you're gone, like Catherine, then it becomes History."

That roused him to the point where he sat up straight, digging at his eyes. "How cn'you have one and not *know?*"

"Why, Test," Sentinel said teasingly, "You've already had one."

"Nuh, huh," he denied, shaking his head, "Not me."

"I was there," Sentinel told him. "Shall I tell you about it?"

"A story, 'bout me?" Test asked skeptically, wonder hiding just under it.

"About you, at least, in part."

FUTURE PERFECT

The speed with which the tribe had packed a week ago had told Sentinel that his people were eager for the upcoming Gathering. The usual bickering about what should be left behind for the next time the site was used and what should be taken had been merely token. More time and care was spent on choosing what should be brought along for trade and gifts, but even that had been done quickly. Everyone was eager to met old friends, exchange news, and negotiate new homes for the young people who had become adults since the last meeting.

All Sentinel could do was dread it, and, as they drew to the end of their journey, that feeling was nearly overwhelming. There would be too much noise, the stink of too many people, too many things to sort out of a mass of movement, color, and confusion - and not even a Teacher to help him navigate through it.

Familiar sorrow swept over him, though as usual it did not show on his face. Teacher should have remained at the tribe's Shelter the last season they had been there. Joel, and it was only in his private thoughts Sentinel dared to call his mentor by his given name, had been old and tired, ready to stay in the warmth of Shelter and study away his last days. Instead he had continued ranging, cheerfully insisting that at the next Gather they were sure to find a Guide for Sentinel, and then he would retire.

But Teacher had died of pneumonia less than halfway through their cycle, leaving Sentinel alone and at the mercy of his zones, except for Simon. Without thinking, the big man glanced ahead of the broken line of people walking briskly along the trail to pick out the Cap'n. When he had been just a boy, new to this tribe, very uncertain of his status and not feeling particularly wanted, Simon had been his first friend, welcoming him and helping him fit in as best possible. The older boy had been a godsend then, and was doing the best he could now. These days when he went Away, Simon had a chance of bringing him back quickly, but the tall black man was responsible for *everyone* now that he was leader, and couldn't be spared to be a makeshift Guide for a nearly useless Sentinel.

Moving among the travelers, helping an elder shift a bundle here, reassuring a youngster here, Sentinel forced his mind from its gloomy path, and tried to focus on the better aspects of the upcoming Gather. Idly, he hoped they were not the last to arrive.

The teasing that would result in being the last in would be good-natured, but would damage their chances for adopting some new Un-named adults. The competition for them was always fierce, and being late suggested that the leadership of the tribe and the ability to co-operate among its members was...lacking. It would make them less attractive to prospective additions, and as they had not had a child born in two cycles now, they sorely needed new blood.

He looked over his people, numbering about seventy in all, trying to see them for a moment as an outsider would. Frankly, he considered them a handsome lot. Their hair varied in shade from that glorious color of warmth that spoke of sunlight on grain to the dark, rich color of fertile soil, and there was not even a hint of disease or poor hygiene. All were well groomed and wore their hair long or elaborately cut, in the manner of a prosperous tribe with a well-managed territory. After all, keeping it clean, trimmed, and silky meant that there was plenty of time after hunting and harvesting to spend on appearance.

Even the eldest among them were obviously well fed, and they ranged in age from little Test the youngest present at five cycles to Old Huma, their Healer who was so many seasons old, she no longer kept track. Good nature showed on many of their faces, even after the rigor of the trip, and almost none of them had broken or missing teeth, or were scarred, so it was plain it went deeper than appearances. And that their Elders were capable, keeping the inevitable inter-personal conflicts from escalating into fights or challenges.

Keeping an eye on Test at the front, who was obviously excited by the prospect of arriving and his first look at the Gather, Sentinel reached the head of the line, still absent-mindedly assessing them as he passed.

Personally, he decided, if appearance was what new breeders judged by (and he was practical enough to know that they could be very young and very foolish in that way) the Freedom Tribe had one advantage over many otherwise equally successful communities- skin color. In many tribes, one color would dominate, be it brown or copper or whatever. In his there seemed to be at least one representative of every shade skin came in. Test had the loveliest, light cream skin that needed constant watching on sunny days, the Cap'n had a startling black, and Sentinel himself had an golden brown that made his blue eyes seem even brighter.

Those eyes focused on the valley below the ridge that marked the beginning of neutral territory and the Gather. Fighting off an incipient zone that he could *feel* at the edge of his mind, he sighed in relief. Not the first, but not by much and definitely not the last. Good!

Test hopped from one foot to the other, practically bouncing in an excess of anxiety and anticipation. Sentinel smiled approval at him for waiting for the others, and placed a reassuring hand on the curve of his shoulder.

"So many, so many," Test muttered. "More hands full than all of us. How can there be so many?"

Gravely Sentinel bent until his voice would carry only to the child. "Because the Earth is greater than you think, when all you've seen is your own territory. It'll be confusing, Test, and noisy, and people will behave in ways that are unfamiliar to you. But no one will hurt you, and if someone becomes upset with you, just tell them your name and tribe. Or show them your chane." He touched the polished and engraved beads strung on a thong around Test's neck. "They will bring any complaints or problems to our Elders. You should do that if you get lost, too."

At Test's scoffing look, he knelt beside the youngster to see more directly into his eyes. "Test, listen to me. You can get lost here! Landmarks will be hidden by people and tents towering over you; trail signs will not exist, because so many will step on the same soil. Noise will make it impossible to listen for voices you know. If you get lost, find an Elder and show them your chane. Promise me."

Reluctance and a little defiance lit Test eyes - he was past the age of needing a keeper! And he certainly could find his own way to his own place! Sentinel bit his tongue just a little, both in amusement and worry. To him, Test may as well have been shouting his protests; time for another tact and perhaps a smile.

He rose, and gestured to where the Cap'n stood, waiting for the rest of the tribe to congregate, so they could make the descent into the valley as a whole. "The Cap'n and Healer don't mind claiming lost ones; it gives them a chance to approach Elders in other tribes for trade and adoption negotiations. When I was your age, my Cap'n claimed that there was not a single Elder he didn't meet, thanks to me!"

Startled into a chuckle, Test looked up at him, then leaned into his leg companionably. "Scholars don't have to be introduced. That doesn't seem fair; is it because they don't stay with one tribe? Why do Scholars move from tribe to tribe, anyway? They can stay at Shelter though they're not old or Blessed or a new baby; why? Scholar says our Cap'n was born from the first Cap'n of our tribe, and *that* Cap'n founded our Shelter. And that all Sentinels, no matter what tribe, were taught by our first Shaman. How can she tell? Why..."

"So many questions," Sentinel laughed, leaning down to give him a quick hug. "We gave you a good name!" Absently, he looked for the young woman, thinking that in this case, it was because no one could stand this Scholar for more than the cycle it took to bring her from Gather to Gather. Fixing on the sound of her voice reluctantly, he found her standing next to the Cap'n, who had a strained look on his face, and Sentinel knew without actually listening to her words that the other man was being as peppered by quick questions as he was. As always, he tried not to really look at Scholar; he found her appearance very disconcerting.

As a youth, he'd taken a hard knock on the head during a game, and had had to view the world through blurred eyes for several days. Looking at Cassie - she claimed her birth tribe was less restrictive about sharing given names - was the same, as if she was just a little out of focus. Something about her curly, shoulder-length auburn hair or maybe her non-stop talking, or perhaps even her blue eyes: whatever it was, it was like she was almost but not quite... right. Right for what, he didn't know, but he avoided her as much as politely possible.

At an impatient sound from Test, he gave his attention back to the child to answer at least one of his questions. "After the Chaos, when the tribes were being created, it was decided that knowledge was too precious to loose or to hoard. So it was decided Scholars, Healers, Shamans and Bards could move from Shelter to Shelter, tribe to tribe, to learn and share what they know." The youngster opened his mouth to ask more, but Sentinel stopped him with, "If you come to me at the fire tonight, Test, I'll do my best to tell you anything you want to know, but right now, I think Cap'n will be looking for you. It's custom for the youngest present to be with the Elders when we enter the Commons."

Giving him the look only the young have mastered properly - I know that, silly - Test bounced away, only to bounce back again a second later. "I promise. To go to an Elder *if* I get lost."

With a laugh, Sentinel followed the running boy, wondering what tactic he could use to divert the overly inquisitive Scholar to free Simon for his duties. He came to stand at the Cap'n's left, and as he did, Tracker took Scholar by the elbow, grinning widely at her.

"Bet there must be a dozen differences between Greetings from tribe to tribe," Tracker said to her, bright smile flashing in his brown face.

"Oh yes. The Neskaya, for instance, don't greet at all and everyone simply goes into the camp one at a time."

"Well," Tracker agreed, mostly seriously, "that would certainly convince everyone you mean no harm, but I don't know if I'd have the nerve...."

His voice faded as he drew her to one side, mingling them with her notice into the body of the group. "Henri, I owe you," Cap'n muttered indistinctly. With a little bump to his back, Sentinel caught his friend's attention and nodded down to Test. At that, the Cap'n drew himself up to full height - several inches more than Sentinel's 6'2" - and took several slow breaths.

"Sentinel, what do you See?" He ordered briskly, donning his formal persona.

Automatically Sentinel swept assessing look over the tents and huts on the river plain below them. "Two tribes, Tangle and Hope - about 150 people. No sign of disease, peaceful looking. They're beginning to bunch together in small groups, shading their eyes to see us. Next to the stream, side nearest us, is a Greeting place, and Elders are filtering in."

Ritual complete - one designed, he reflected wearily, both to brag and warn that a sentinel was part of the oncoming Tribe - he stepped to one side and let Cap'n, Healer, Test, and the others take the lead. Keeping close enough to Simon that he could report if necessary, he let his mind drift again to watch his companions.

Though it was rude to stare directly, many of the Freedom tribe were stealing glances and peeks at tents around the encampment, looking for old acquaintances and friends from previous Gathers, trying to see which of the four tribes expected were there already.

Sentinel kept his face bland, but was inwardly pleased. Not only did he see several born to Freedom who had moved to different tribes in previous cycles, but he saw that at least two of them had small ones on the hip or by the hand. It had been since the last Gather that he had been able hold a baby. He looked forward to the sweet smell and soft sounds; there was something about them that said 'home' and 'safe' to him.

As Sentinel, and one already known to them, the new parents would be seeking him out as soon as possible, both to show the children off a little and to ask if they could be Guide or Shaman. A sidelong glance showed Cap'n had the same bland face, *and* the same air of satisfaction. He would undoubtedly find reasons to frequent Sentinel's tent while parents were consulting with him. It seemed even Simon was always finding different ways to use him to get introductions! The idea lightened his mood, almost against his will, and he finally shook off his brooding.

Amusement nearly showing, he ordered his thoughts and paid attention to the proceedings. They had already approached the entrance proper to the camp, and the Elders there were preparing to acknowledge them. Cap'n, still holding Test by the hand, moved to stand in front of Elders, and waited until a Leader gracefully knelt his slender form to the ground to be able to see into Test's eyes.

"Greetings small traveler. Has your journey been hard?"

Test, ignoring the question, reached a timid hand to touch the completely bare pate of the Elder. Even old Huma did not show such great age. "Yours has been harder, I think," he said seriously, and was frightened when the Leader threw back his head and bellowed a laugh.

Looking around him, Test was reassured by the slight smiles of his people, and the broad ones of the other Elders. "It has been long," the boy said, finally giving the expected response. "And I would appreciate a time of rest, and shelter for it."

"Your chane, small traveler?" The Elder held a hand out while Test removed the thong from his neck for the first time in his life.

The Elder made a show of inspecting it - the center bead was white bone, the symbol of humans themselves. On the right side of it was a small black bead with red tracing through it, made from a stone common to the territory the Freedom Tribe claimed. And on the other side was a simple blank, wooden bead that Test himself would decorate when the time was right for him.

The Elder nodded solemnly, and stood. "I see that you have family with you?"

It was Test's turn to nod solemnly, and he turned to Simon. "This is the Captain of my tribe, and we are from the Freedom Range."

With that formal introduction, the Elder stepped forward and took Simon into his arms for a strong hug. "It is so good to see you again! And so many still with you." With that cue, friends stepped forward amid greetings and laughter, and for a while all Test could do was watch wide-eyed at the crowd from the safety of Sentinel's arms, as it shifted and moved like a single living thing.

***

Exhausted, fighting zones almost constantly, Sentinel excused himself from a negotiation with the Elders of Tangle Tribe and practically ran for the edge of the camp. Though annoyed, Cap'n had let him go, knowing he was less than useless in his overtaxed state. He was completely unable to filter out what he needed or wanted from the maelstrom around him - even as he hurried away he overheard the leaders behind him talking privately. //Megan, losing his sentinel will put the other Cap'n off balance. Now is a good time to push him for that mineral that the Ritzn tribe wants. //

//Teach a tree to grow, Rafe, I know what to do.//

At the beginning of the Gather, Sentinel had taken one of the first patrols, both to re-familiarize himself with the area and to find a secluded spot to escape to when needed, and he headed there now.

Before he could reach it, however, a ruckus of noise, laughter and excited young voices attracted his attention, calling him to duty despite his desire to leave. Concealing his irritation behind a public face, Sentinel followed the sound to its source and found a challenge in progress.

Though not strictly forbidden, the custom was not looked upon with approval by most Elders because of the risk of stirring high emotions to the breaking point. On the other hand, young people seemed to need a way to waste excess energy, and having minor problems solved in the process was a benefit, so most Named adults simply ignored them. Curious and feeling duty bound to make sure it didn't get out of hand, Sentinel hovered at the edge of the ring of young people and more liberal Named adults to see what form the challenge had taken.

Wits, skill, strength, speed - there were contests for all those, but these competitors had wisely chosen a chaze. When two people were unevenly matched as the pair in the center of the crowd, the combination of tag, hid-n-seek, and obstacle course in a chaze would allow a fair resolution. To one side, surrounded by friends, tittering, chattering and looking too pleased with herself was the very obvious cause of the challenge. The young woman had that indefinable something that told Sentinel she hadn't been considered an adult for long, and was finding being the bone of contention between two suitors very pleasing.

Shaking his head - well, she was young - Sentinel watched the contestants, amusing himself by trying to guess which one had issued the challenge. Probably the big, hulking man who was giving a very good impression of being a frustrated bull right at the second. Generally, Bear of the Tangle tribe tended to react with hormones instead of sense when thwarted, and he had a fondness for the chaze since he was faster than his size suggested.

Long, dark hair braided back, he was dodging around the various people and things in his path, but not so adeptly as the smaller man he was chasing. So far, Bear not been able to snag a single one of the four ribbons attached to the arms and hair of his prey, while he himself had lost all but one. Since winning meant clearing the course first with at least one of them, he had no choice but to surrender any lead he might have had in order to catch the other man.

Gifts or not, Sentinel was having trouble pinpointing the whirling dervish himself, so no wonder Bear wasn't having much luck. The impression he had was of merry blue eyes, flying sable curls, strong lithe body and an absolute glee in the game that spoke more of having fun than taking the challenge seriously. That, as much as knowing Bear would take losing gracefully, put Sentinel at his ease, and he turned to leave.

A few steps away, near a large tree that had two trunks close together, he heard a delighted roar from the bunch behind him, and half turned to see what had happened. From the milling chaos and odd comment, he gathered the young man had ducked into the crowd, deliberately losing himself in it. Since leaving the chaze course wasn't against the rules, as long as it wasn't to run directly to the goal, Bear's opponent had just made the challenge much more interesting.

With a half laugh, Sentinel resumed his path, only to bump into a panting, partly dressed body. Automatically his hands shot out to catch the other person's upper arms to steady them, at the same time his own were similarly gripped.

"Whoa!" the stranger blurted.

And Sentinel looked down into blue laughter, sweet beauty, blazing intelligence, all in the face of the man he'd watched being chased moments before. Dimly recognizing the bead of a Shaman on the other's chane, Sentinel simply stared at him, instinctively pushing him back into the trunks of the trees and sheltering him from view with his own broad back. The man was older than he had thought, he decided, older than he expected to see participating in a challenge. The Shaman had a strong jaw, full lips, white even teeth peering from behind them, sweet scent from both breath and body, and beautiful, beautiful....

"Sentinel?" Even Shaman's voice was wonderful, and, for the first time in Sentinel's life, deliberately pitched to a level only he could hear clearly. "Sentinel? Are you all right?"

Letting the sound ricochet in his ears, Sentinel felt himself slipping Away, but for once could not bring himself to care about it. He was tired, and this man's voice was a lovely thing to be lost in.

Then Shaman leaned into him, pressing them together chest to chest. "Sentinel! Listen to me! This is not the time or place to zone; release what holds you. Let it go!"

With a sigh, Sentinel did as he was told, blinking. At that sound, Shaman relaxed, restoring their personal space. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "If you'll tell me where your Guide is, I'll find him or her. This," and a nod indicated the noisy people behind them, "must be difficult for you."

To his own utter surprise, Sentinel said truthfully, "No guide; that's why I'm having so much trouble." Artlessly, he slid one hand up over the smooth, soft skin of Shaman's shoulder to timidly touch a single curl.

"A teacher?" Shaman asked, swaying ever so slightly towards him.

He made himself release the lock and take a step back, dismayed at how much will it took. "No," he said shortly, but hearing his own sadness under it. "Have you been a Teacher?" he asked, knowing there were no sentinels besides himself in the camp and wondering how this man came by his guiding skill.

With a smile that nearly sent Sentinel reeling back into a zone, the other man shook his head. "No, I've never had the pleasure to work with one. I've met a few in my life, though, and always been curious about them."

Before he could reply to that, a triumphant roar sounded too close to his ears, and he twisted his head sharply toward it. Bear had spotted his lost target and was heading for them, most of the crowd following. Biting back a disgruntled sound, he made to step away from the Shaman to free him for the challenge.

"Wait," Shaman ordered softly. "I only paid attention to Tresa to get Bear to notice her; she really cares for him." Though Sentinel kept his opinion from his features, the other man obviously saw it anyway. "It's what a Shaman *does,* Sentinel," the smaller man said with some asperity. "Now stay here, please?"

'Please' in that tone of voice from that mouth was a weakness Sentinel hadn't even known he had until that second. Without waiting for his response, Shaman stepped clear of his protective stance, removing ribbons as he did. Mutely he held them out to Bear, face solemn.

Confused, Bear took strips of cloth, looking at them, the ground, the people around him, everywhere but at Shaman.

"Sentinel has recalled me to duty," the smaller man said formally. "I concede the challenge." There was a soft murmur of disappointment from the spectators, and Shaman studied them, finding Tresa to smile at her reassuringly. "If the lady has no objections, of course."

She blushed, but sidled up to Bear to tentatively take his hand. Their mutual smiles answered the question, and at that the others laughed and began to wander off, already dissecting the chaze to decide for themselves who would have won. The young couple didn't seem to notice, and Sentinel hid a smile himself.

Then the aroma of their mutual attracted wafted his way, filling his head, and he nearly choked, unable to dismiss or ignore it. Working on habit and blind need, he hurried away, hunting for solitude, too absorbed in trying to function through the overload to notice his steps were being shadowed.

Finally he made it to a large blackberry bush, near the edge of a bluff, and climbed the tree nearest it. Risky though it was with his head spinning, he crept out onto a limb that hung over the center of the bush and dropped onto the large, flat topped boulder hidden there. Crumpling up on the skin he'd left earlier, he wrapped his arms over his head and tried to shut off all his senses.

The effort seemed doomed to his mind, but one by one they all did fade to bearable levels, gently overwhelmed by his skin, which was happily humming and tingling from being softly petted. Slowly the overall sensation resolved itself into specifics; a much hairier body than his own curled around his back, strong fingers scratching his scalp through the short hair there, the rasp of beard between his shoulder blades, a rumbling vibration through his torso from words spoken against his back. Without thinking he knew this time it was real, coming from the young Shaman he'd just met, and he caught the hand massaging circles into his chest.

Belatedly he connected meaning and sound. "... then the First Sentinel picked up the body of his lover and carried it out into the blizzard, neither of them ever to be seen again."

"That's not the way it happened," he disagreed mildly, at a loss for anything better to say about finding Shaman wrapped around him, expertly coaxing him out of the worst overload he could remember having.

"That's what the legends all say." Though his words were neutral enough, to Sentinel the relief under them was apparent.

"That's not what happened."

Duty done, Shaman sat up, his shadow falling over Sentinel's face, but he didn't put any distance between them, letting his hands linger on the bigger man's arm. "Freedom Tribe has a different tale?" he asked.

"Sentinel and Shaman were out trying to find food after a series of hard snows," he told his new friend, "which had caused the tribe to use up their supplies. The snow was too deep to move to a better camp, so they took some of the best hunters and went out looking for whatever they could find. While they were out, a blizzard blew in, but Sentinel had sensed it coming, so they were nearly back to camp when it hit. Close enough, actually, that the other hunters made it back when Sentinel and Shaman were lost from the party. Probably cause they were getting really old, and wouldn't have been out at all if they hadn't needed Sentinel's gifts so badly.

"Their bodies were found after the thaw, still wrapped in a lover's embrace. Stush, the Cap'n then, cremated their remains, which is custom for us, and scattered the combined ashes over a field of flowers, which we still do for lovers so they can be together even after death."

"You tell that story as if you were there when it happened." Shaman's curiosity wasn't even barely masked. "Like you know them personally."

"I do, in a way. First Sentinel created Freedom Tribe right after the collapse, according to his Shaman's journals which start before the Chaos, so we're pretty sure ours *was* the first. We have them at our Shelter, though after 11 generations, I'm about the only person who can still read the originals. Copies have been printed, though, for Guide or Shaman to study, if need be." Not wanting the other man to leave yet, Sentinel answered him completely, suspecting that it would encourage him to stay. He remained motionless, enjoying Shaman's presence, mapping it by the coolness of the shadow splashing over his own body.

"You've actually seen them?" Shaman questioned eagerly.

"The Sandburg Journals? Yes. Jo... my last teacher showed them to me; even pointed out where the handwriting changed when Sentinel took over writing them for Shaman when he sara'd to paper." His matter-of-fact tone didn't quite disguise his pride at his tribe having such a valuable resource.

Squirming, but keeping his hands on Sentinel, Shaman wondered out loud, with excitement underlying his words, "Do you think your Cap'n would mind having me travel with your tribe until you reach the end of your path again? I'm young, but well trained. My mom is a Bard, and I traveled with her when I was a kid, until the Shaman from Truthot Tribe volunteered to start formally teaching me."

Mildly scandalized at the woman's behavior - denying a child a strong tribe to grow in until time to chose his own! - Sentinel finally sat up to face the Shaman, dislodging his hands. Though he was trying to maintain a public expression, he found himself saying more honestly than he should, "If you volunteer to take over as a guide of a sorts until he finds one for me, the Cap'n would jump at the chance, even if we had three shaman of our own already."

Wondering what it was about this man that made him speak without considering, Sentinel firmly closed his lips over the bitterness that welled up every time he wondered what was *wrong* with him that he couldn't find his Guide. The brilliant blue eyes, framed by a halo of bright sunshine and riotous curls, softened as though Shaman saw it anyway. "I'd be honored if you'd let me try." The younger man cautiously put his hand back in the center of Sentinel's chest. "If it will help you trust me, my name is Blair."

"Blair..." Sentinel said slowly, tasting the word gingerly, covering the hand on him with one of his own.

To his surprise, Shaman looked away and said a little defensively, "Not after the first Shaman. My mother's milk tribe was almost on the other side of N'Merica. It's not an unusual name there."

"I like it." Sentinel assured him sincerely, reaching out with his free hand to cup his jaw. "Blair - like brightness and air mixed; it suits you." The smile he was given for his words was almost shy, and one turned up the corners of his lips in reply. "My name is Jim."

"Jim," Blair murmured. "Jim."

Helplessly Sentinel shuddered at the sound, his heartbeat and breathing beginning to race. Of its own violation his hand drew Shaman's head closer and he leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching. Eyes wide, his companion allowed action, lifting his face in invitation, a soft 'oh' of surprise escaping just as Sentinel hesitantly tasted him.

As if startled, they both jerked a few inches apart, whispered, "Oh, finally," then claimed their places in each other's lives.

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