The Kin by Peter Dickinson

they had last met at Stinkwater had been only ten and four. But then, there had been six other Kins beside those two. There were more of these people back at the cave, of course, as well as men out hunting, but still it was not very many if these were the only Kin who ever came here.
    Where did they go to find mates? he wondered. The young men of the Moonhawks went to Little Bat and Crocodile to beg a mate, and young men came from Weaver and Parrot to beg from Moonhawk.
    â€œI am Suth,” he said. “This one is Tinu. We are Moonhawk.”
    â€œI am Loga,” she said. “My son is not yet named.”
    â€œAnd what is your Kin?” he asked.
    She stared at him, and put her knuckles to her mouth. He realized that he must have said a Thing-that-is-not-spoken, though among the Kin he knew the sign would have been given with the palm of the hand.
    â€œMy shame,” he muttered, spreading his hands, palm down, in front of his chest, and then slowly lowering them as a sign of pushing the evil back into the earth.
    She nodded, but turned away and concentrated on her baby.
    When they had finished their game, the men picked up their digging sticks and loped off along the edge of the scrub. The women and children moved out into the open, formed a line and started to forage steadily across the ground. Almost all of them had folded leaves under their arms, to carry what they had gathered. None had a gourd. Perhaps there were no gourds in the valley.
    Suth and Tinu joined the end of the line and worked steadily. Before the sun was halfway down the sky they had gathered enough for their own needs for a full day, but they had Noli and the small ones to feed too, so they didn’t stop. Suth was crouching by a clump of spike-grass, stripping off the ripe seed heads, when he felt a curious sensation, as if the solid ground was trembling beneath the soles of his feet. It lasted only a short while and as it ended the whooping call of Big Voice rose from the forest. Far off, another answered. The weird cries floated out over the treetops and away towards the barren ridges.
    The line of foragers stopped work and stood to listen to the call. As it died away, the woman working next to Suth turned and smiled.
    â€œHe sings,” she said. “Paro gives birth, perhaps. The baby is good. Big Voice is happy for the baby.”
    The other women seemed to have had the same idea. Without waiting for the men, they started back for the cave.
    Ko came running to meet them across the last slope. He held up his arms. Suth passed his carrying leaf to Tinu and picked him up.
    â€œYou come back,” said Ko happily.
    â€œI come back,” said Suth.
    â€œYou father,” said Ko.
    Suth must have looked startled, because Ko said it again.
    â€œYou father,” he insisted. “Noli mother. Mana say this. Yes?”
    â€œYes,” said Suth, slowly. “I am the father now, and Noli is the mother. You are the children, Tinu, Ko, Mana, and Otan.”
    He was still surprised, but in a different way. All along he had been doing his best for the little ones, trying to keep them alive, and find them food and water and safety. But these weren’t the only things they needed. They needed a father and a mother too, so they’d chosen Suth and Noli, since there was no one else. And it was Mana who had seen the need.
    He thought about her as he carried Ko back to the camp. As usual with Mana, Suth hadn’t especially noticed it at the time, but now he realized how easy she had made things, as far as she could, ever since he and Noli had rescued the four of them. She hadn’t asked for anything, or complained of hunger or thirst or weariness, but she’d watched all the time, and been ready, and kept out of the way when she wasn’t needed.
    So when he got back to the camp and found Noli sitting with Otan asleep in her lap, and Mana sitting patiently beside her, he put Ko down and picked Mana