The Kin by Peter Dickinson Page A

builds good traps. You should praise her, not scorn her.”
    Dith stared at him contemptuously. If a man had spoken to him like that, his hair would have bushed right out, but it didn’t even stir.
    â€œLet her build a deer trap,” he said. “Then I praise her.”
    He turned and strutted away.
    A few days later, just after they had returned from the morning visit to the lake, Tinu pulled Suth aside.
    â€œGo see deer,” she mouthed. “This way. No people. Suth, I ask.”
    It was a struggle for her to say that much at a time. She looked at him pleadingly and pointed along the slope in the opposite direction to the foraging grounds.
    He gestured to Tinu to wait. Noli had already said she was going to forage that day, so he told her that he was going to hunt.
    â€œBe lucky, Suth,” she said, just as his mother used to say to his father when he was setting out to look for game.
    â€œYou too be lucky, Noli,” he answered, as his father would have.
    They set off across the rough hillside. It would have been quicker to take one of the paths through the scrub, but even the grown men didn’t go there alone. Not all the big hunting animals slept by day, and one man by himself was no match for a leopard.
    At first, Noli’s blessing seemed a strong one. They’d been walking for a while when Suth spotted a stoneweed. He marked it with his mark to gather on the way back and share with the rest of the Moonhawks. It was a good sign, he thought as they scrambled on.
    The sun was halfway up the sky before they came to a shallow dip running up the hillside, where a broad strip of coarse grass had managed to take root. At its lower edge they found fresh deer tracks coming and going through gaps in the scrub.
    They climbed back up and settled in the shade of a jut of rock to watch. Time went by, and more time, and still nothing happened. Suth’s restlessness, eased at first by the change from day after day of foraging, came back ever more strongly, until he felt that he could no longer bear to sit still. He rose to his feet.
    â€œDeer do not come,” he said. “We go.”
    Tinu looked up at him. Her disappointment made it almost impossible for her to speak. Her mouth worked. When the words came he barely understood them.
    â€œI … stay … Suth … I … ask …”
    He hesitated and looked around. What harm could come to her here, so far up the open hillside? What except snakes and lizards would be out here in the full heat of the day?
    â€œI go,” he said. “When sun is there, I come back.”
    He pointed a little above the western horizon. She nodded understanding. He picked up his digging stick. Without having thought about it, he knew exactly what he needed to ease his restlessness.
    He climbed steadily up the hill, using his digging stick as a staff, ignoring the weight of the sun on his head and shoulders. At last the slope eased, and he could see ahead of him the barrier of jagged boulders that rimmed the bowl. It was further to them than he had remembered. He looked at the sun. It was more than halfway down. If he went on, they’d be lucky to get back to the cave before dark. He felt obstinate—he would do what he had come to do.
    As he turned to continue his climb, his eye was caught by a glimmer above the western ridge, the white peak of a mountain. He recognized it at once. You could see that snow-capped peak from all over the lands which the Kin used to roam, though it might be many days walking away. It was the Mountain above Odutu, the Place of Meeting. When any of the Kin had died, Moonhawk had come in the night and carried their spirit away to the Spirit Place at its summit. And somewhere below was the ledge where Suth would have spent the slow night before the day of becoming a man.
    He looked at it and wept for the world that he had lost.
    I cannot stay here, he thought as he climbed on. This is not my place.
    The