Children of the Dawn by Patricia Rowe

no sense,” Ashan had said. “Why do they not make the little ones slaves too? They could work. Look at what they
     did to Elia, and he was one of their own.”
    “It makes perfect sense, if you’re a Tlikit,” Tor had said. “The Forest Children will grow up to be mates of new blood for
     Tlikit children. That’s more important to them than a few more slaves.”
    “These drylanders seem to be very selfish creatures.”
    “It’s because of where they came from. Their homeland was a cruel place. Think of it this way: The Shahala are like a mountain
     lion who kills an elk, eats all it wants, and is happy to leave the scraps for whatever hungry creature comes along. The mountain
     lion has no reason to be selfish. Now think of the vultures who gather for the meager remains. Those vultures squawk and beat
     each other with their wings.”
    “I see what you mean, Tor, but these are
people
we’re talking about, not some old piece of meat.”
    “I know. The problem of the Tlikit tribe was far more important than you understand. Until we came, they needed new blood
     more than anything. They couldn’t mate among themselves without horrible consequences. They were a dying tribe that could
     not save itself.”
    When he made her look at it this way, she understood—there was
nothing
Ashan wouldn’t do to save the Shahala tribe. But understanding didn’t mean she could allow it to continue.
    When her people asked about the slaves, Ashan told them to be patient. She would deal with it when she was ready. She wanted
     to understand everything before deciding what to do. So far, one thing she knew was that the Tlikit had
always
kept slaves, if they could get them. They said it was a right given by their gods.
    Mani adjusted Yayla’s cradleboard for the path of the sun.
    “Have you seen the sadness on their faces when they look at their little ones?” she asked.
    Ashan nodded. “It grabs my heart. Losing their children must be the worst. They’re not really
lost,
like drowned in the river, or stolen by savages. But they might as well be. The mothers have no time for them in the day,
     and they can’t even hold them at night.”
    “These Tlikit are so different,” Mani said. “I’ll never get used to them. Remember when Deyon brought his Outsider to Anutash?
     We washed and dressed her? Named her Kalatash, New Woman? We made her our sister. And so the Tlikit are with us, like they
     want to be our sisters. Then how can they be so cruel to those poor women?”
    “I don’t know. But it’s wrong. I must stop it, somehow.”
    “I’m glad it’s you who are Moonkeeper,” Mani said, not for the first time. “Spirits will show you what to do, Ashan. They
     always do.”
    The women were quiet for a while.
    Mani said, “This day is too nice to waste worrying about other people. You should go to that special place of yours and let
     the sun work magic on you.”
    It sounded wonderful to Ashan. She took leather-working tools and the hide that Mani had given to her last moon, and climbed
     the cliffs behind the village. She reached the sitting stone that she thought of as her friend with a view, and settled into
     the curve that fit her backside.
    Takoma,
she thought in Shahala, meaning “where spirit lines cross.”
Lu It,
she thought in Tlikit, meaning “sacred place.” It no longer surprised her when thoughts came with two names.
    From her sitting rock on the high cliff, the Moonkeeper looked down on Teahra Village. She smiled, remembering the first time
     she’d seen it. She had thought,
That can’t be a village
—
there are no huts.
With the work of strong Shahala warriors, Teahra looked like a
real
village now, with several huts finished, and others on the way.
    The Moonkeeper’s hut sat in the center. Sleeping warm and dry and having privacy made Ashan happy. When she lived under the
     crude shelter against the cliffs, people couldsee if she was busy or not, and come to her anytime they wanted. Now they