Three Turnings later and K'yash remembered that day with a saddened heart.
He had been too optimistic; too dismissing of the signs.  He should have
probed deeper into K'yer's spirit from the start instead of leaving the
weight of the responsibility on the young kien.  Although...  it was true
that even that might not have changed anything.  K'yish was not merely
mourning as he had at first assumed.  No... it was more than that.
Something of K'yish's spirt was gone--- perhpas irretrievably.  K'yash had
spent long hours in commune with the Creative in search of an answer.  If
his friend had merely been bitten by one of the rek, then the flesh would
have been regrown by now.  But was it even possible for new spirit to come
back into the void left behind?  Of this he was not certain.  There was no
Story to remember that told so.  The only thing that he was sure of was that
the answer lay with the young kien.

The kien.

The Elder winced.  There was another problem he had not foreseen.  Yer had
been so quiet a youth, so polite.  Now?

Now he was on his way to answer his Eldest's summons on that very subject.

The village where the Etwan lived, like all such places, was merely a
clearing in a less densely forested section of the valley, which boundary
was marked by specially planted trees that no male could cross uninvited.
They generally consisted of a number of different-sized dwellings made of
closely woven together wood.  Blankets were used to cover or uncover the
entrances as well as roof openings for when more light was needed or a
firepit was lit.  Some were used only as storage places; three of  the
largest housed the various Etwan sects:  Weaver, Herder, and Gatherer.  All
were the same hue (being made of wood and the Clan-colored weavings--- which
in this particular valley were green), except for one.  Dominating every
village was the Council building.  A triangular affair, it was highly
symbolic of the Kievet social structure.  One side was always covered in
orange weavings.  Orange symbolized the Kievet as a whole, being their
mutual skin color.  The second side's color was determined by the Clan
itself; again, in this case green for Ysh Clan.  This symbolized the Etwan
of the valley. The third side--- always facing the main path in from the
tree 'gate'---  was the real eyecatcher, however.  The bottom section was
like a stripe consisting of triangular color swatches.  Each brilliant hue
symbolized one of the Eight Clans of the Kievet.  A black field made up the
rest of the triangle, the center of which held a smaller triangle with white
dots like stars.  This was the Starry Place of Vast where K'yavanti, the
Creative One, was said to be working.  This side,utilizing  triangle, stripe
and eight colors with K'yavanti on top, symbolized the K'tlyan.  It was the
K'tlyan alone who travelled between the Eight Clans bringing the news and
stories that tied the Clans together.  They  'spoke' the language of Ava,
thus tying the Kievet with the Creative.  Also, they brought Festival into
the otherwise dry lives of the Etwan.  In return, the Etwan supplied the
K'tlyan with a safe haven to grow up in, retire into, mend injuries, and
otherwise punctuate their basically solitary lives with meaning.  It was a
balance both sides had agreed to for as long as Stories had been told.

Despite all this, the Etwan were fiercely protective of their chosen valley
domains; so it was that K'yash brought his R'ket to a halt before the
'gate'.  Not even Clan Elders could pass the tree markers without being
questioned by an Attendant, though K'yash was not offended by the Herder's
inquiry as to his desire to enter even though she would have heard the
summons that brought him here.  Perhaps she had even been the very one to
blow on the  horn trumpet hanging around her body.  Formality and tradition
were the guidelines the Etwan lived by.  He and his brother K'tlyan, though
greatly respected, were in essence, little more than guests in their valley.

"Honored First Elder, why do you wish to enter the village of Ysh?"  A
herder staff was planted firmly in front of his R'ket while Etwan Attendant
awaiting his answer.

"I heard my call sounded and hurried to answer it."

As part of the condition of  'retiring' in Ysh, each K'tlyan't was given a
signature hornblast.  It was required that they answer any summons as
quickly as they could; delay being seen as rudeness.  K'yash had been
summoned to the Council Lodge, presumably by Mesmeatas, the First Eldest.
He was her special advisor into spirital and K'tlyan matters.  Lately, her
requests had all centered upon K'yish and Yer.

 "Then I will not deny you entry."  The herder inclined her head slightly
and removed her staff so he could pass.  "You may enter and fulfill your
obligation, K'yash en K'tlyan't."

Thanking her for her generosity, K'yash nudged his R'ket, who had been
eyeing a female group of his kind that some Herders had just brought in.
With a slight huff the animal moved forward in the direction of the Council
Lodge.  It was fairly early in the day and he noted that the Baker Triad was
just setting down their blankets to display their morning work.  Every
morning they baked a variety of bread rolls for the Clan's use.  Bread was
considered an unsurpassed delicacy to the K'tlyan.
They were only allowed to ask for rolls during a set period of time, though.
If an Elder or his kien arrived too late and the rolls were already being
packed away... well, too bad.  He would have to try again the next morning.
The K'wi K'tlyan't smiled at the females, remembering as a kien his own rush
to procure the biggest rolls for his Mieket.  Very soon now both Ishti and
Yer would enter the village.  Sniffing the air, K'yash dismounted and walked
humbly over to the Bakers.  He was obligated to answer his summons as
quickly as possible but . . . ayth, those smelled good!  He had no kien to
save some for him and Mesmeatas might keep him too long.  It would only be a
moment's delay to ask for the treat.  He was just giving the nearest Baker
his most winning smile when Ishti jogged in.  Ishti was kien to K'Pryish,
the Third Elder of Ysh.  At ten Turnings, the kien was eagerly awaiting the
day when his Mieket would pronounce him ready for the K'tlyan Ceremony.  A
bittersweet decision for any Mieket, K'yash knew, for it meant that their
Bonding would be broken as  the younger symbolically took the place of the
aging Teacher.  And young K'tlyan were not encouraged to Festival in their
kien valley until many Turnings had passed.  When Ishti left, it was
unlikely he would ever see KPryish again.

"Ya Enkati, Kwi K'tlyan't.  (Good Day, First Elder.)

"Ya Enkati, Ishti."  K'yash greeted back.  "And how is your Mieket this
morning?"

"Very good, honored sir.  He . ."

A loud yelling interruped the  polite exchange.  Seconds later, Ysh's other
current male child came charging into view with the Herder Attendant hot on
his heels.  Grabbing ahold of K'yash's tunic, the small kien used the
startled Elder as an anchor as he spun around, grabbed the nearest available
rolls, and continued his flight back the way he had come, leaving an
astonished group behind him.  The Attendant grumbled under her breath at
being so neatly outmanuevered, but there was nothing to be done.  Once again
the young rabscallion had gotten past her!  Seeing K'yash eyeing her, she
straightened up and calmly walked back to her post.  A bemused K'yash
quickly accepted his own rolls from a Baker and turned towards R'ket.  There
was nothing a dignified Etwan hated more than to be caught in a flustered
mood.

An aged Etwan holding a tall staff with a green stone stuck in the top
suddenly stepped in front of him.  K'yash nearly dopped his two rolls as he
was offering one to his R'ket.  Blushing, he looked down guiltily at the
remaining pastry he had been about to pop into his mouth.  His Companion, a
true, greedy R'ket, naturally had no concerns about being so caught and
quickly munched down his Bond Mate's food as well as its own as the other
began to apologize.  Mesmeatas, ('With Much Speaking'), the oldest living
Kievet in Ysh Clan frowned disapprovingly at him.

"K'yash!"

K'yash instantly melted into a mortified ball at her feet.

"My own Eldest!  A mountainslide of apologize for my lapse of politeness---
I fear my nose and stomach are more awake this day than my manners.  I will
go to Council straight away!"  K'yash gulped.  Though it was highly
unlikely, Mesmeatas could have him severely punished for such a slight of
his duties--- especially since it was to her that he had been summoned.
Fortunately for him the First Eldest was more concerned about what she had
just witnessed than over her Elder's tardiness.  Without a word she beckoned
for him to follow her into the Council Lodge by way of the Kievet Entrance.
Somewhat relieved, K'yash followed like a scolded young kien as they went
past the storage section and into the Council room itself.  It was fairly
dark with nearly all of the roof weavings cutting off the sunlight, but
K'tlyan eyes were well designed to adjust to it.  As custom, he sat humbly
on a bare spot between rugs while she sat on her own, special stool that a
Weaver Attendant brought over for her.

"So . . ." she began quietly, "It seems that K'yish has yet to talk with his
kien about this naya behavior . . ."  she looked expectantly at the elder
male.  "Perhaps I should punish the Mieket as well as the kien?"  K'yash
said nothing.  "Come, K'yash.  I am not going to bite you just because you
got hungry.  Did you think I would deny you bread for an entire day?"  She
made a gesture and the Attendant immediately brought in a gourd bowl full of
different kinds of bread rolls which she placed near the Elder's feet before
returning to her spot near the doorway.
"Eat, my Elder, and forgive yourself ---  I have already done so."

K'yash selected one of the fruited varieties and bit into it with a smile.
Its light sweetness tasted doubly good what with the realization that
Mesmeatas was not angry with him.  The smile faded, however, as he thought
on what she had said about K'yish.  He signaled the wish to speak.

"My Eldest, please do not take out your displeasure on the Second.  He did
rebuke the kien--- I was there."

The displeasure returned to Mesmeatas' face.  "So you said after Red Pakha
was found in a sweet roll . . ." Involuntarily, K'yash gave his own
half-eaten roll a quick sniff.  There was no hint of the fiery hot spice.
Still, he put it down.

". . so you said after Nisaves found her shift mysteriously turned inside
out."

The Elder coughed with embarrassment.  During questioning, Yer had denied
looking upon the uncovered Etwan.  But the very idea that he would have
dared to go where only a select few were invited!  That time he had been
unable to blunt the youth's punishment.  And poor K'yish had been forced to
stand by as his kien be publicly humiliated.  The Second had watched the
whole thing with the same dulled look that he normally wore, but K'yash knew
that the whole episode had pained his yan:  K'yish had attempted to wipe
away the kien's tears.

"Mesmeatas," K'yash began cautiously, "I understand your annoyance, but you
mus--- I think it would be wise to look at this series of behaviors from
another perspective."  he corrected his wording before the Kwi could glare
at him.

"Another perspective?  Yours I suppose."

"Not mine--- though this is of K'tlyan."  he reminded her carefully.
Mesmeatas had a temper.  "I was suggesting K'yavanti's."

The Eldest looked surprised.  She slowly sipped at her tea, brought by the
Attendant.  "I had thought that the K'tlyan had already asked K'yavanti
about this matter."

Hanging his head, K'yash spread is arms outward; hands held limp in apology.
"I made the error of assuming that K'yish was only in deep grief of the loss
of the etwani  Now I know that he has been spiritually maimed by Unayarek.
My apologies for not looking more closely into the matter at the beginning.
If I had, Yer would not have been driven to such lengths."

Mesmeatas took another slow sip, staring into the calm, green surface of the
herbal beverage.  She briefly considered punishing the First for his
negligence toward his charges, but it was obvious that K'yash was already
upset.  Besides, he had had plenty to distract him after that awful day.
The Herder triad had not been the only one that suffered loss.  Many had
died or been injured by Unayarek's sudden attack on the World.  They had all
needed comfort; yet the K'tlyan also had to remain in constant alert against
the smaller swipes that the Destructive might throw at Ava in its weakened
state.  All of that and with one of their own effectively out of commission.
No, she couldn't punish him more than to silently show her disapproval---
which to the loyal K'yash was punishment enough.

"What has Yer's turn toward Chaos to do with you?"

"I gave him the responsibility of tending to K'yish thinking that the Second
would be better sooner with the care of his Bonded Ones.  Instead, it has
become evident that the strain of comforting the uncomforted has made Yer,
himself, susceptible to attack.  I did not see it... and did not offer
support."

"I see.  And what is the perspective of K'yavanti?"

K'yash's eyes went opaque as the color of his irises shifted like sand to
obliterate the pupil.  Mesmeatas waited unconcerned.  She had seen this
happen many times now.  K'yish was merely tuning into his connection with
Ava.  The wait was short.

"That we be patient.  Yer is young but strong in spirit.  He will eventually
fight off Chaos and be a great Singer.  But it will take time.  His anger at
his seeming abandonment is clouding his sight, yet inside he still senses
the Bonding."  The eyes reverted to normal.  "My Eldest, Yer's mischief is
in some ways a good thing --- - at least for K'yish."

Mesmeatas scowled into her empty cup; the Attendant hurried to refill it.
She glared at the Elder, who hastily looked away.  "How could Chaos possible
be good for anything."

"It reminds K'yish that there are emotions.  He responded to Yer's pain when
you made him . ."  K'yash looked uncomfortably at his boots, "when you gave
the kien his punishment.  And, and please do not take this wrong, I believe
he also saw the humor in the red pakha roll."

K'yash and the Attendant both winced as the Ysh staff's blunted end made
sharp contact with the floor.

"I failed to see the 'humor' in my mouth being burnt!"  She nudged his knee
with the tip of the aged wood.  "Did you  see the 'humor' in my suffering?"

Cringing, the First Elder nervously rubbed his upper arms.  Mesmeatas was in
a particularly bad mood today.  He started to tly a Water song of Peace, but
a thud on the knee cut the song short.

"Answer me."  Mesmeatas ordered in demanding voice.  She was in no mood for
tlying.

K'yash reluctantly complied.  It would have been unthinkable to have lied.
Quite literally.  Kievet did not know the conception of lying.  If something
was said it was so ---  at least as far as the teller knew.

"You thought it funny!"

"Well ...  aye.  Not your suffering!  Na!  But the surprise of it was.  It
was so unforseen.  I am sorry, my Eldest but that part of it was humorous."

"You are trying my patience today, K'tlyan't."

"I know."

The terrified whisper of an admission calmed her where the song attempt had
failed.  Mesmeatas took a deep breath.  She had not meant to terrorize her
First so.  He was an asset to the Clan despite all of this.  And he was an
asset to her in particular.  She gestured for the Attendant to leave them
alone.

"K'yash, I have a headache."

Almost instantly, K'yash got up and began to sniff about her head.  "My
Eldest is too tense for life to flow.  Am allowed?"  Receiving a nod of
affirmation, he began to massage her head and neck while softly singing.  It
did not take long for her scent and breath to lose its distress and return
to normal as the muscles relaxed their strangulating hold.  With a sigh of
relief, she reached back and pulled him down into a crouched position at her
feet.  Warm breath cascaded down K'yash's face as she gently ruffled his
white scalp hairs, then down to lazily circle a patch of throat spots.  A
hand casually slipped between fabric and the side of his neck, dislodging
the coverings on his shoulder as the fingers found and manipulated a certain
area.  His contented purring made her quietly laugh.

"If I was young again I would gladly Join with you, K'yash en K'tlyan't.  As
it is I will settle for your healing abilities."

"I am my Eldest's."  K'yash directed his own breath at her jugular before
giving the long, bare neck a small lick.  An energetic scalp massage was his
reward.  He hummed with renewed intensity as a light blanket fell over both
of their heads hiding them from chance view.

"We are supposed to be too old for this, K'yash."  Mesmeatas said at length.

"So the Stories say.  I prefer to . . . aaayth.. ah.. I prefer to look on it
as a blessing from K'yavanti."
That made her giggle all the more.  She sensuously rubbed his etwas and nose
at the same time.  "I see.  Then in return for your blessing you will be
willing to do my bidding on a sensitive subject?"  He was well into the
first stages of arousal now, his humming near constant as her hands expertly
worked his sense points.  The etwas on his shoulder was red and swollen.
She gently sucked on it for good measure even though it had been dry for
many Turnings now.  The question was repeated.  A dreamy nod was her answer.
"Good.  The Clan canna wait for Yer to fight off the Enemy.  It is too much
of a  strain on all of us.  On the other hand, I agree that he has
potential ---  especially in the physical range."

"Pipes and Voice." K'tash murmured between licks of her exposed flesh, too
caught up in his own sensations to grasp her true meaning.

"As you say.  Anyway, I want you to train him for the K'tlyan by next full
Weshati or I will be forced to banish him for the sake of this Clan."  She
felt her counterpart stir at that and redoubled her massaging.  "Voice that
you will do this."

"Mesheetas . . . he is . ."  A very warm K'yash started to slur a protest.
The kien was still young.

A hand on his tail stem made him forget what it was that he was about to
argue.  Mesmeatas smiled to herself as his reverberating voice echoed her
desire.  A K'tlyan who had Voiced could not go back on what he had sung.  It
was now woven into the blanket of his being--- it could not be ignored or
removed.  She made sure to remind him of the promise after his body
stablized down to normal.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
--

K'yish did not look up from his work as the Elder rode up and dismounted.
He could smell K'yash coming and K'yash knew he could smell him.  There was
no point in looking up.

K'yash sighed tiredly.  Every day he hoped his friend would recover somehow
and greet him with a proper breath of air---  and everyday he was
disappointed.  He knelt down and did the greeting himself, noting the gourd
that K'yash was working on.

"Yas Enkatihas, Yan't." (Good morning, old friend.).He said, breathing his
breath out so that the other could take it into his own lungs.  "How is it
coming?"  He referred to the gourd  that K'yash was minutely inspecting.
The plant was oddly shaped with one side almost flat while the other side
kept its rounded body.  The neck, also, was stretched out longer than usual.

"It comes, my Elder.  We are both learning the shape as we go.  I have only
the dream to go by."

K'yash nodded.  Just before the Disaster Yer had had a dream vision of a new
song helper like but unlike flutes and drums and shakers.  He had told the
dream to his Mieket and his Mieket had told his Elder thinking there was
maybe some hidden meaning in the vision.  K'yash had advised him to try
making the dream helper a reality.  Until a moment ago he had no idea that
K'yash had actually started the project let alone was still working on it.

"What does Yer think of his dream taking shape thus?"  He asked politely.

"Farewell gift."  His friend said simply.

"Ahh . ."  K'yash nodded again feeling even more uncomfortable.  A farewell
gift was a surprise for the receiver and therefore not meant to be seen by
others until the Ceremony.  But that was not why he was feeling bad.  He
cleared his throat.  "K'yish, I must say something to you that I wish I did
not."  K'yash finally looked up at him with his dead expression.  "Yer must
be ready for the K'tlyan Ceremony before Warm is fully here."  The Second
merely looked back down at the gourd and went on as before.

Come on, my friend, I know that somewhere deep inside of you there is a
piece of your spirit that was not consumed.  Yell!  Shout at me that he is
too young; that he canna possibly be made ready in so short a time.  Give me
something to tell Mesmeatas that she might counter my stupid Voicing.

As if the one who had connived the promise from him would be willing to null
it once gotten.

A thought struck him.  Vast!  It was staring him straight in the face!

"K'yish, the gourd!  The gourd is proof that you are healing.  It is proof
that Yer's presence is helping you.  We can take it to Mesmeatas and--- "

The Second gave a shudder.

"K'yish?"  Concerned, K'yash petted his friend's head.  "Are you alright?"

The Second gave a faint "No." as if he was out of breath.

K'yash put his arm around him and sniffed at him.  "Your scent is not right.
What is it?"

"My breath is leaving me.  Air is loosening its bond with me."

"You will be fine.  I will move you to my shelter and restore the balance."

"No.  I have to finish this before Warm is here."

"My friend, I have already said that is not necessary.  Mesmeatas will let
Yer stay."

The limp, white hair flowed from side to side as K'yish slowly shook his
head.  "No.  This is my farewell gift to Yer.  Only you and I may look upon
it."

"But, my friend--- "

"No!"  K'yish said with slightly more force.  He carefully began reburying
the gourd from view.  "K'yash, you mean well, but I am going to Walk.  I
wish to Walk.  It is a wish I have long held.  My only other is to see Yer
at his Farewell."  He looked up at the First with eyes that held the spark
of determination.

"Thank you, my friend, for making this possible."

K'yash took him into a hug and cried.  "Do not say that!  Mesmeatas used me
to get what she wanted.  I had na wish to see this happen."

Positions reversed, K'yish petted his Elder's head.  "Even so.  You will
find Yer is near readiness.  He has spent much time watching Ishti with
K'Pryish.  It will be good."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Yer burst up from the lake and shook his body vigorously.  The flying water
droplets had scarcely rejoined their source before he dived back down.  His
target, Ishti, grimaced as he surveyed his suddenly wet clothing.  He had
come to wash and clean his garments anyway, so the unexpected shower was no
big deal.  Just annoying.

"A simple, 'this spot is already occuppied' would have sufficed, Yer."   Why
must you be so rude?

The younger kien resurfaced, his handsome face marred by a mischeveous grin.
He submerged to his mouth and blew bubbles at the offended near-adult.
"Whoo is this Yer?  I am the Water Monster!   Do you dare come in and do
battle with me?"

Ishti shot him a disgusted look.  "You are impossible."

The cheeky grin surfaced above the water once again.  "Ayye . .e'nya'g . .
heee!"

Yer watched with mild satisfaction as Ishti gave up and went away.  Good!
He wanted to be alone and he already had seen enough of the older kien
today, albeit, without Ishti's or K'Pryish's knowledge.  For a long time now
he had been watching the Bond pair, deciding that what his own Mieket would
not share he would get from the other.  They just did not have to know about
it.

And he didna want to risk hurting Mieket's feelings.

A rigid arm shot out in a semi-circle sending ripples of water racing from
him as if aware of his anger.  Feelings, hah!  If Mieket had any feelings he
would have shown them long ago.  I am tired of waiting for the impossible!
There is nothing for me here.  Nothing for me out there!  Unayarek is just
playing games with all of us!

Gulping in air, Yer dived down deep till he touched bottom in a vain attempt
to outrun his tears.  But, as always,  they were there to greet him when he
resurfaced.  When I am K'tlyan, Unayarek, I will hunt you down like a V'rek
tracks a blood scent and then I will . .

What will you do?

"I . . will show you how much I despise you!"

A cheery voice spoke from nearby.

"That is a little extreme isna it?  Why, you havena even experienced all my
teaching yet."

Yer blushed deep scarlet under his fur.  He had spoken the last thought
outloud and within hearing of the First Elder yet!

"Ayth!  A mountainslide of apologies, honorable Elder.  I was not speaking
of you."

K'yash casually dismounted from his R'ket and relaxed back on the grass,
eyes to the sky.  Yer sat in the water, uncertain of what to do or say.

"Come, come.  It is time to resume your lessons."  K'yash gestured for him
while not taking his eyes off the billowing clouds overhead.

Resigned, (It was more fun to spy out his education than to learn it from
the First), Yer looked about for his clothes, but they were nowhere to be
seen.

"If you are looking for your kien tunic and things you will find them in one
of R'ket's paks."  The Elder commented to the air.

Yer gave the white and grey ungulant that was bonded to K'yash a hopeful
look as he beckoned for it to come over.  To his dismay, the animal merely
shook its head and snorted at him.  Wonderful.

K'yash yawned mightily to cover his grin.  "Well, if you do na wish to be
taught then perhaps I will call for the etwani to come and I will tell them
stories."  He made as if to fill his lungs to bursting.

"Wait!"  Yer shot out of the water and ran to the R'ket as fast as he could.
However, the R'ket was not in a cooperative move and galloped away before he
could grab for a pak.  Yer muttered something uncomplimentary about the
R'ket's ancestry as he ran after it again, this time managing to snag a
bulging pak before the animal took off.  He hurriedly opened the storage
sack and grabbed out ---

A bundle of seedling wraps?!

Throwing the useless cloths down, he renewed his pursuit of the exasperating
goatelope.  A bored voice called into the air.  "Are you going to come or
not?"

"Just .. a moment.. Eldaar.  Hah!"  Yer gave the R'ket a triumphant look as
he relieved it of another pak.  The look melted as his hand brought out a
new Kien's tunic--- way too small for him.

"Really, little Yer, when are you going to grow up?  Come at once."  K'yash
could barely hide his mirth now.  He forced himself to look away from the
amusing scene.

The R'ket openly snickered at the befuddled kien.  Very annoyed now, Yer
snarled like an Uteiv that had just stuck its paw in a thorn bush and gave
wild chase, no longer caring about the possibility of roaming etwani, Etwan,
or anything else with sight.

Just as soon as I stuff your windbag of a R'ket into some crevise!  He
thought sourly.

A little while longer and the R'ket was still sporting the last pak.  Yer
stopped to catch his breath, the strength of his anger spent on trying to
catch the suddenly elusive beast.  Forced into a calmer mood by sheer lack
of oxygen it dawned on him that the R'ket had let him catch up the first two
times and in such a position that nearly guaranteed that he would reach
those particular paks first and in that order.  His green eyes narrowed as
he glanced back at the Elder, lazily tracing cloud boundaries with his
finger.

So . . he was not the only one who knew how to pull a prank.  But that did
not help him get his clothing back.  By Wheshati's light he was not going to
go cringing naked to the Elder and beg to be given his dignity back!  But
what to actually do?  R'ket.  R'ket.  If only he had a bread roll to lure
it.  Heh!  If he had had a bread roll he would have ate it himself by now.
The Baker Triad were stingy of late.  At least where he was concerned.

"Ahh!"

Doubling over as if in great pain, Yer fell to the ground.  K'yash appeared
not to notice, but the R'ket immediately froze.  It snuffled uneasily in the
fallen kien's direction, then, very cautiously, walked back.  The kien did
not move.  Did not breath.  Moaning with concern, the soft nose bumped
against the furred chest.  R'ket were unfailingly protective even of other
Kievet.  It moaned again to its Bond Mate, fearing that it had overdone its
part in this 'lesson'.

Quick as a loaded spring, Yer's arms reached up and grabbed great handfulls
of the wooly fur.  Before the R'ket could even finish its bellow of
surprise, he was on its back and tugging loose the last pak.  Unfortunately,
the blasted thing was really tied onto the harness.  Only the fact that he
was holding on to it with such a firm grip  kept him from sailing forward as
the R'ket pivoted and galloped pell-mell back to where its Bond Mate was
resting.

K'yash opened one eye and blinked at the disheveled Yer who clung in a
splayed out fashion to his Companion's back.  Getting up, he casually
straightened his coverings and looked at the mortified kien as if seeing him
for the first time.

"My goodness, R'ket, what is this unsightly mess you have attached to your
back?

The R'ket rumbled and harrumphed.

"I see.  A noisome kien who thinks he will be a K'tlyan one day, eh?"
K'yash discarded his mild tone and barked into Yer's ear.  "Get your wet
furry self off of my Companion or I will throw you into the middle of an
entire herd of R'ket mothers--- as is!"

Yer winced at the bellow, but held onto the pak as he slid to the ground.

"Let go of the pak."

"The coverings--- "

"Are not yours yet."  Still the youth hesitated.

"Let.  Go.  Of.  The. Pak!"

This time Yer let go, shivering as he closed his eyes.  Only Mieket and
Mieket's R'ket had ever seen his whole self before.  And now that cursed
R'ket of the K'wi's.

A soft fabric fell over him.  Experimentally opening one eye showed that he
was completely covered by K'yash's  own poncho cape.  He looked up in
surprise to see the First smiling at him---  if a little woefully.  Yer
opened his mouth, then thought better of it.  For several regrowths of
Weshati now the aged K'tlyan had been tutoring him without giving a reason.
He signaled his wish to speak.  K'yash nodded gravely.

"Why?"

"Why have I taken your coverings away from you?"

"Why . . everything."

K'yash gave a weary sigh and sat down rather heavily.  "That is a long
Story, Young one.  Sit down."

Yer complied and listened to a short summary of general Kievet history up to
and including the Disaster.  This he knew.  Every kievet new the Creation
story from the Elder's and stories of past happenings from Visitors and the
valley K'tlyan.  K'yash then began to relate details of which he was not so
familiar:  K'yish's spiritual condition and the result it had had on the
whole Clan,  especially one kien by the name of Yer.  How that kien had in
fact become so disruptive to the Clan and such a liability to its welfare
that a most unpleasant decision had had to be made.

"I asked you a bit ago when you were going to grow up.  It was a real
question for which I already knew a partial answer:  you must be grown up by
tommorrow night.  Tommorrow night you will be made K'tlyan."

Yer stared at him.  "Me?  But Ishti is two Turnings older than I and --- "

"I told you it was an unpleasant decision.  You are obviously still young in
body --- apologies, but I had to know---  and therefore canna experiance the
entire Ceremony.  But we will have to make do because you are going to leave
Ysh the morning after next."

He softened his voice as the stunned kien breathed deeply.  "Yer, in time
your body will catch up to the Ceremony.  There is no doubt of that---
should you survive."  By that Yer knew he meant the high mortality rate of
the K'tlyan once they left the relative safety of the lower valleys.  Cold,
avalanche, predator.  Only a few survived that  first year of solitude.  "It
is of the rest of you that I have pause.  You still have the quick
brightness of promise I saw in a Five-Turnings kien.  But now there is this
other part of the kien that despises someone and lashes it out on others.
You are soon to be made K'tlyan.  Are you ready to be K'tlyan?  That means
are you ready to grow up from an angry kien to a keeper of the Creative?"

Yer gulped.  "I dona know."  he said quietly.

"Never mind.  Do you want  to?"

"Aye."

"Then I believe eventually all will be well.  The 'eventually' depends on
you."
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