Putak and Kelsha had left in the early hours of yesterday morning. He wished he had learned the Treespeaker’s skill of feeling a person’s presence in the forest, for then he would have known they were safe. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not tap into the stream of life that his father had used so often. He could only hope they’d made it back to Putak’s village. It was getting late and the curfew would soon resume. He turned to look along the path that wound down the hill to the storehouse. Megda should be back with food in a few minutes, but there was no sign of her yet. Maybe he should go and look for her. Her aching joints still caused her pain. She might be struggling to carry what she had picked up. Dovan put the bucket by the barrel and walked onto the path. As he did, he noticed two figures coming from the other direction. One, strutting with his shoulders back, he recognised as Grifad. At first glance, he mistook the other for Megda and wondered why she should be coming that way, but then he caught sight of Megda coming from the storehouse, carrying a string bag.
