Dusk crept across the world as he drew near to his own camp. The coals of his fire were still glowing. He threw more wood on, knowing it was too dark for the strangers to see his smoke tonight. He wanted the girl’s clan to find him, but not for a few days yet.
He speared a fish at first light, taking the time to feed it bit at a time to the dogs, making sure that Little Girl and Little Boy sat and rolled over obediently every time he gave the word.
The dog looked bored, as though it was her right to share the fish without all the sitting and rolling. He agreed with her, but worry tugged at him. If only there was some way to tell her that she would be safer if she was tamer.
But he knew her as well as she knew him. She did what she wanted.
He headed back to his camp and began to dig a pit, glad the soil wasn’t yet the hard almost-rock of the Dry. It was hard work, loosening the soil with a stick, scraping it out with a giant bailer shell carried here by a tide at the height of the Rain.
It took a day to make the pit big enough. He ate turtle eggs because he didn’t want to spare time to hunt, but he still made sure that Little Girl and Little Boy sat and rolled over each time before they ate. He gathered rocks, flinging them into the pit, then firewood, as dry as he could find.
At night he dreamed of the girl.
Now it was time to hunt.
‘Dog!’
He never knew if she’d come when he called or not. But today her golden shape appeared on the path, the younger dogs behind her.
He lifted his hunting spear. ‘Hunt,’ he said. ‘Hunt, girl.’
He didn’t know if the dog understood his words. But she knew what it meant when he lifted his spear and gazed at the hoppers then at her.
She gave a doggy grin, her tongue lolling, then slunk off into the still-long grass. The younger dogs followed her.
Loa waited for them to drive the hoppers towards him, his spear in his hands.