The Kin by Peter Dickinson Page B

as to eat the eggs and the young chicks .
    Then the two who had been reared by Weaver said, “We may not eat of this food. We are of the Kin of Weaver.” Their names were So and Sana .
    They came to a warren below the crags where moonhawks nested, and Ammu showed how to set traps for ground rats .
    Then the two who had been reared by Moonhawk said, “We must set the hearts aside for Moonhawk. This is her prey, and we are of the Kin of Moonhawk.” Their names were Nal and Anla .
    They came to a cave and An said, “Here we sleep.”
    Then the two who had been reared by Little Bat said, “First we must do a thing. Bats lair in this cave. We ask leave of them. We are of the Kin of Little Bat.” Their names were Tur and Turka .
    And so with each of the others in their turn, each honouring the First One who had raised them .
    Only the two who had been reared by An and Ammu themselves had no knowledge of any Kin to which they belonged, because Monkey had hidden himself and done nothing for them. Their names were Da and Datta .
    They came to An and said, “Our brothers and sisters have each a Kin, but we have none. How is this?”
    An, knowing no better, said, “You were reared by Ammu and by me. You are of the Kin of People.”
    It was from this that all sorrow came .

CHAPTER SEVEN
    They slept in the cave. It stank. Like the Kin these people didn’t make dung or pass water close by their lairs, but went well away to do so. But small children can’t control their bowels all night, and though the people piled up grass and brought it in for bedding and cleared it out when it was dirty, the reeks gradually gathered in the cave until in the nostrils of the Moonhawks the stench seemed almost too strong to bear. The people didn’t seem to notice or mind, any more than they noticed the strange foul-egg odour that wafted to and fro in the valley.
    The stink in the cave was made worse because when all were in for the night, the people piled rocks across the entrance, blocking it to the height of a man’s shoulder. That meant any who needed to go out to relieve themselves were unable to do so.
    Suth wondered if this was necessary, but on that very first night he got his answer. In his sleep he sensed a stirring, and woke and heard a low snarl, followed by another, coming from outside the cave. Night hunters were there, squabbling over scraps of food left from the meal. Against the patch of sky above the barrier, Suth saw the outlines of men with digging sticks raised ready to fight an intruder. Nothing more happened. The animals moved away and everyone relaxed back into sleep.
    Later he woke again. He had felt the rock beneath him shudder, twice, but no one else in the cave stirred. They must be used to that.
    The barrier was taken down as dawn was breaking, and the rocks laid aside to be used again. The air smelled wonderfully fresh and clean after the cave. They ate a little food and then went down to the lake for their morning drink. After that the foragers and hunters left, but Noli was still feeding Otan so the Moonhawks stayed for her.
    While they waited the air grew heavy. Clouds gathered, seemingly from nowhere. Everyone left at the camp hurried into the cave. There was a clap of thunder, and rain came pelting down while the lightning blinked and the thunder rumbled on and on. And then it was over, and the whole hillside was streaming with water.
    This was the season of thunderstorms. The Kin used to watch them grumbling across the plains, dropping their rain in one place and not in another. But Suth had never seen one like this, gathering and gone so soon, and all in one place. It was very strange.
    As the Moonhawks were getting ready to leave, Foia, the woman who helped blind old Mosu move around, came up.
    â€œYou speak now with Mosu,” she said.
    Suth frowned. The old woman made him very uneasy, and he wanted as little to do with her as he could. He glanced at