...d, and puffing her laughter she stood on her two legs, and stretched slender arms high.

Still the boy would not wake, not even when she rolled him on his face, because he lay on her shredded woman clothes. Still she was jubilant, even though she would have to carry him, and she dressed in her tatters. Away from this place, away from his people, deep inside her forest, she would compel him to make her properly herself again.

Because she remembered how the Bear Killer had carried this boy, she could do the same. Only the man rubbing cups with a cloth looked at her leaving the Pig and Bee, and the boy in her arms.

“Boy sick,” said the beargirl.