The child turned over and began to thrash.

“Mother,” she moaned. Flailing her arms wildly, she called out again, louder, “Mother!”

Iza held her, murmuring a soft rumbling undertone. The warm closeness of the woman’s body and her soothing sounds penetrated the girl’s feverish brain and quieted her. She had slept fitfully through the night, awakening the woman often with her tossing and moaning and delirious mutterings. The sounds were strange, different from the words spoken by Clan people. They flowed easily, fluently, one sound blending into another.

Iza could not begin to reproduce many of them; her ear was not even conditioned to hearing the finer variations. But that particular set of sounds was repeated so often, Iza guessed it was a name for someone close to the child, and when she saw that her presence comforted the girl, she sensed who the someone was.

She can’t be very old, Iza thought, she didn’t even know how to find food. I wonder how long she’s been alone? What could have happened to her people? Could it have been the earthquake? Has she been wandering by herself that long? And how did she escape from a cave lion with only a few scratches? Iza had treated enough maulings to know the girl’s wounds were inflicted by the huge cat. Powerful spirits must protect her, Iza decided.

It was still dark, though dawn was approaching, when the child’s fever finally broke in a drenching sweat. Iza cuddled her close, adding her warmth and making sure she was well covered. The girl woke shortly afterward and wondered where she was, but it was too dark to see. She felt the reassurance of the woman’s body next to her and closed her eyes again, drifting into a more restful sleep.