The Dog Master by W. Bruce Cameron Page A

a shameful admission would explain Urs’s guilty expression. “He wanted me to ask you to talk to Palloc about it, but I was saying you would never interfere with the hunt.”
    Albi sneered. “That is right. Why do you run to me? Perhaps Palloc deals with you sternly because though you are offensively tall, inside you are a small, cowardly child.”
    Urs’s lips twitched with his anger. Calli turned so that she faced him full on, her back to Albi. Her eyes pleaded with Urs even as she said, “So there is your answer. You should speak to Hardy the hunt master if you have issues with Palloc.”
    Calli bit her lip, watching Urs struggle with the insult. Then he locked his eyes on hers and her heart filled with affection. He understood what she was doing. “I must go now and help prepare for the hunt,” he said stiffly.
    â€œI suppose you should,” Albi responded mockingly. Calli sighed in silent relief when Urs turned away.
    â€œCalli Umbra. That is not what you were talking about. You cannot fool me.”
    â€œI do not know what you mean, Council Mother,” Calli responded lightly.
    â€œYou do not want to defy me, girl of mists and shadows.”
    â€œI’m sorry, old woman whose colors are the palest shades of white,” Calli answered gravely, mocking Albi’s formal name. The two of them locked eyes, and it was Albi who looked away first.
    *   *   *
    Food was scarce for the Kindred that summer. In the days after Urs and Calli encountered the fleeing Wolfen, hunt master Hardy took the hunt out often, frustrating the couple’s plans to be together in their special place. Every moment he was gone, Calli felt as if her arms ached with a special, empty lack.
    On this day, the hunt was back at camp, but were assembled on the men’s side of the settlement. Calli could see Urs’s back as he crouched in the circle with other men, and she stared at him, willing him to glance up at her and give her that shiver when their eyes met. But he did not.
    Cook fires smoldered around the settlement, but nothing was cooking. When there was so little to eat, the Kindred pooled their meager resources, and it was up to Calli and Coco, Calli’s mother, to stretch their meals so that all might feed.
    Coco had gone to dig for some tender roots to add to their meal. Into the hollow of an enormous log, Calli had poured water, added grass, and was now carefully shredding a small bird that had been roasted over the coals. Other than the bird, they had two recently skinned rabbits, and that was it—scarce protein for the entire Kindred, which at more than forty members was the largest of the northern creeds. Calli would strip the rabbit meat and then pound the bones to fragments and add them to the soup. The men of the hunt would feed first, of course, which meant the children and women would lie hungry in their sleep.
    Renne came to the cooking fire, trailing four children who were all just a little over three years old. Calli noted that recently Renne had taken to wearing her hair braided like Calli’s, which was uncharacteristically bold for her. Renne was a nineteen-year-old orphan and therefore answered to the women’s council, and many of the older members disapproved of the fancy braids. “What is Calli doing for the Kindred?” Renne asked.
    â€œCooking!” the children shouted in unison.
    Renne and Calli exchanged a smile. Teaching the children was a task most of the women enjoyed, something they all shared. Renne, who was shorter than Calli despite being three years older, seemed especially to enjoy it.
    â€œNow, who can show me their man’s side hand?” Renne asked the children.
    There was some confusion, but Calli, standing behind Renne, raised her right hand and eventually all of the children were waving their right hands in the air. “All is good, that is correct,” Renne beamed. She pointed off to her