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.