The Kin by Peter Dickinson Page A

rocks and began to pile them over it. Every few seconds he glanced down the slope, but nothing came.
    The daze returned, but he worked on. Tinu was helping him. When the body was covered he stood swaying. The valley seemed full of darkness.
    â€œFace hurt, Suth,” said Tinu’s voice.
    He put his fingers to his left cheek and flinched at his own touch. Another wound, but his hands were so covered with blood that he couldn’t tell how bad it was.
    â€œYou die, Suth?”
    The darkness cleared and he stood erect.
    â€œNo, I live,” he said.
    He must tell the men himself that he had fought a leopard and robbed it of its prey. Their faces would change. He must see that.
    He was in no state to scramble across rocks, so despite the danger he headed down towards the scrub, where the going was less rough. The sun was above the ridge now, and warmed his back. He walked slowly, but steadily at first, clutching his right hand over his wounded arm. The flow of blood seemed to ease.
    But then the darkness closed in again, filling his eyesight and his mind, though his legs still walked as they did in dreams. There were clear patches in the darkness, when he would find Tinu holding his elbow and guiding him carefully along, and he’d remember where he was and what had happened, and then there’d be nothing but pain and darkness once more.
    They stopped, and then they seemed to be climbing. Tinu’s voice told him to sit and she eased him down onto a rock. She was gone.
    He waited, and then she was back and coaxing his head up and putting something against his mouth. The smell woke him.
    Stoneweed.
    He sipped, and his mind cleared. She’d remembered the stoneweed he’d marked a few days earlier, and then forgotten to gather on his way back to the cave, in his eagerness to tell Noli what he’d seen. Tinu had fetched it for him.
    â€œMy thanks,” he muttered, and sipped again, carefully, feeling the warmth and strength running through his veins. He passed her the stoneweed and she took a couple of sips and handed it back.
    He saw her stiffen and gaze down the slope. She let out a shout, climbed a boulder, and waved and shouted again. Suth rose, swaying, and saw men with digging sticks halted just above the scrub and gazing towards them. They have come to find me , he thought. Noli told them I watched deer. They are angry . Then he thought, No, they are too many. They go to build their trap .
    He swayed and almost fell, but managed to settle onto a boulder. Two of the men were climbing the slope. His eyesight was all blurred, but from the way they walked he recognized them as Mohr and Gan. He rose. He was almost too weak to stand, but he knew what he needed to say and do.
    He held out the stoneweed to them, one-handed, the gesture of a man offering a gift to another man, an equal.
    â€œMohr, Gan,” he said. “I fought with a leopard. It killed a deer. I drove it off. The deer is under rocks. Tinu shows you.”
    â€œYou are hurt,” said Mohr. “We must take you to Mosu, to see to your hurts.”
    â€œNo, I wait here. You bring the deer. I, Suth, ask this. Here is my gift. Drink.”
    Gan accepted the stoneweed, took a couple of sips and passed it to Mohr, who did the same and then handed it back.
    Suth sat and closed his eyes. He heard the men muttering to each other, questioning Tinu, Tinu painfully mouthing her answer, for once not afraid to speak to them. All three moved away. He heard other voices from further down the slope. They faded.
    While Suth waited, he did his best to clean the wounds in his arm and cheek, using spit from his mouth. The three claw slashes on his arm were deep and throbbing, though the stoneweed dulled the pain. The cut on his cheek seemed shallower. Perhaps his head had flinched just in time from the strike.
    He eased the torn flesh together with his fingertips, as best he could. I wear these marks for all my days , he thought. All then