The Color of Distance by Amy Thomson Page A

computer’s condition, and the time and date.
    “Perkele!”
Juna muttered in Finnish as she saw the date on the computer screen. It was much later than she had thought. She checked the activity file, fighting back a wave of fear. The clock had not been reset since she had first arrived on board ship. In desperation she scrabbled through Oliver’s pack, and checked the date on his computer.
    The clocks were running within a second of each other. The survey flyer had crashed in the jungle sixty-four days ago. Base camp would be dismantled in a week’s time. In another three days, the mother ship would leave orbit. If she didn’t hurry, she would be marooned here forever.

Chapter 7
    Anito paused to catch her breath. They had been traveling for five days now. Ninto had been right. She should have waited a few more days before leaving. Her body was still changing, drawing on her scant energy reserves. Even the creature’s cautious pace exhausted her. Her body ached all over. She wanted to hide somewhere and sleep for a week.
    During the allu-a Ilto did with the new creature on its first night in the village, he had dampened its panic response, and improved its reflexes. It no longer froze in terror when it looked down, but it was still learning to trust its new reflexes. Driven by the sudden urgency that blossomed when the creature found that noisy dead-but-alive box, it learned quickly. Every day it traveled faster, moved with more confidence. Unfortunately, the new creature was learning faster than Anito was healing.
    Anito’s tired body protested as she leaped to the next tree, where the creature was waiting for her. Slanting bars of golden light pierced the canopy. It was getting late. Anito could smell the rich sour scent of a nearby tree full of ripe geramben. She was intensely hungry. If they stopped here for the night they would eat well with relatively little effort. Tomorrow morning they could gather supplies for the next few days of the trip. It would give her a chance to rest and recover her strength.
    Anito put a hand on the creature’s shoulder, communicating by gesture and skin speech that they would stop here. She led it to the geramben tree, showed it how to recognize which fruit were ripe, and left the new creature to gather fruit while she hunted. Hanging her bag of gear on one of the branches, she took with her a gathering bag and her blowgun and darts.
    The hunting was good. Here in the wild spaces between village territories there were no restrictions on what she could kill. She soon bagged two fat ooloo and was stalking a garban when she smelled the other Tendu. He was male, and had passed this way very recently. She shot at the garban and missed, then began tracking the Tendu, following his scent through several trees. She heard a rustling behind her and then something brushed her shoulder. Startled, Anito leaped up to another branch before looking back. It was the Tendu she had been tracking. He was taller than any Tendu she had ever seen. Judging from his height and the length of his muzzle, he must be extremely old. Ripples of laughter coursed across his body.
    “I am Ukatonen,” he told her. “What takes you from Narmolom so soon after werrun? You should be home resting.”
    Anito drew back her head in surprise. He had the fourfold name sign of an enkar. The enkar passed from village to village, settling disputes. They were hundreds of years old, and reputed to have strange powers. They moved through the forest more silently than the wind. He had approached her without her knowing; that hadn’t happened since she was a tinka. He even knew what village she was from. She was impressed and a little frightened.
    Anito had seen only a few enkar. One had come after their last chief elder died. She had chosen Ilto to fill the chief elder’s place. Once in a while, one would show up at the village, stay a few days, and then move on. They were treated with great respect and given the best that the