Doublesight by Terry Persun Page A

important to me.”
    Brok said nothing. There was nothing to respond to.
    Arren had said what he wished to say. But then Arren turned one last time. “Think it over.” Arren walked into the grass and bent down to hide from view. In a moment, a large crow entered the sky like a shadow. The silhouette glided low over the plain and cut east so that it did not enter the camp directly.
    The blazing fires had died down; only a glow existed to indicate the campsite. The night temperature placed a cool hand against Brok's body. The drumming had silenced. He hoped that Breel and Therin were still asleep.
    A breeze pushed his curls along his neck. Chills ran up his back. He closed his eyes and opened his arms to the light of the moon. He considered Arren's proposal, and Oro's. He wished on his own life that he could hear Fremlin's voice as Zimp must surely be able to hear her sister's, and how Oro, he guessed, could hear the whole of the other realm. What should he do? What was his duty to his family? To the doublesight and The Few?
    Brok set his intention on making a decision before morning. He took in the plains and the buffalo, turned and stared at the forest, his home. He pulled in the night air until his chest expanded to its limit. Long and slow, he exhaled as his body shimmered and changed, as fur appeared to burst from his skin, as he felt his head elongate, the colors dim. Forced by the shifting shape of his own body to drop to the ground, Brok let out a small whine. His teeth felt wet with saliva, cold against the night air.
    He sniffed the area where Arren had been. The scent of fear lingered still. The thylacine let his mouth hang open and pulled in the scent as deeply as he could, pulled it up and through his nasal passages in the hopes that in human image he would remember the smell. After scouring the area, he turned to the buffalo and burst into an angry run. At one point he imagined the bodies of his family and almost shifted back into human image. But he continued on, casting the thought aside. Once the buffalo ran, he turned to run back to the camp.
    The woods, in its darkness, calmed the beast. His animal sight brought clear edges and unique details to the trees and underbrush. He heard the caw of a crow and shifted into his human form. The bird clucked and Brok wondered if that was a signal for a false alarm.He touched the trunk of a nearby spruce and traced its bark with his fingers. Returned to his human form, the darkness had closed in, the sparse moonlight the only illumination.
    Brok sneaked up on Oro and Zimp's wagon. At the entrance he stopped and placed his hand on the side pole. He tensed to pull himself into the space as quietly as he could.

10
    THE WAGON'S CENTER OF GRAVITY shifted and Zimp knew that she had company. She lay still and held her breath. A chill scurried like a mouse up her back and into her scalp. She held back from shaking it off. A floorboard squeaked and the intruder hesitated before advancing another careful step. She let her breath slip out and turned as if in sleep. A knife, located along her feather mattress, found its way into her hand. In a more ready position, Zimp allowed her arm to stretch in the dark at the exact pace as the advancement of the person in the wagon with her.
    “Zimp?” a voice broke through. A moment later a hand reached to touch her shoulder.
    Zimp opened her eyes and in the deep darkness of the wagon picked out the body mass of Brok. She turned her wrist in a very slow movement to indicate to him the position of the knife she held. It pushed against his solar plexus until it met resistance. She pulled back.
    “You were awake,” he said.
    “Never try to surprise a thief.” She sat up onto her elbows and let the knife slide back into place along the mattress. “What are you doing here?”
    “I shifted and took a run into the valley tonight.”
    “You are free to do what you wish. Why tell me?”
    Brok rested his knee on the floor. “I had a