Chuck Barstow caught that, and reined in beside them. The other children grew a little silent, but Rudi grinned up at the middle-aged sandy-blond rider; Uncle Chuck had been as much a father to him as any man.

But Lord Bear's your real body-father, he thought, then let his mind shy away from the knowledge. He wasn't sure what he thought of that at all, and he'd only learned it for sure last year at the Horse Fair.

"What about King Arthur and Robin Hood and Niall of the Nine Hostages and Thor's trip to Jotunheim and A Midsummer Night's Dream?" Chuck asked.

"Oh, that's different," Rudi said confidently; there were nods of agreement from those within earshot. "That's more like real life, you know? Those are the cool stories. They mean something. They're not just weird names like Liam said."

For some reason Uncle Chuck gave a snort of laughter at that, and rode away shaking his head. "People that old are weird," Liam said.

Rudi nodded thoughtfully. Of course, there weren't all that many really, really old people around at all. They'd mostly all died the year he was born. Uncle Dennis was fifty-eight, and the oldest person in Dun Juniper by a decade. There were only six or seven people here older than Mom, who was forty.

Then he called out to the leader of the little column. "Aoife," he said. "Do you think all the old folks are weird? I mean, you're grown up but you're not old-not real old."

"Thanks!" the woman who'd turn twenty-one in a few months said.

The lantern wavered a little as she looked over her shoulder, and paused to brush snow from her plaid. "Not really, sprout," she went on. "I was: just a little older than you are now, at the Change. I remember riding in cars, you know? And TV and lights going on when I pushed a switch: sort of. We were in a school bus when the Change happened, Dan and Sanjay and me; I can remember that. But I'm not really sure if I'm remembering all the rest of it, or just remembering remembering or remembering what the oldsters told me."