x-x-x-x-x-x

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Standing at the river's edge, Scully wrung water from Mulder's
clean pants and then shook out the wrinkles. Moisture rained
from the cuffs as she carried them to the nearby bushes, where
she spread them over blossom-covered branches to dry in the
sun alongside their other clothes. Blond, trumpet-shaped
flowers spiked the shrubbery, poking up between the clean
clothes like birthday candles, scenting them with the sweet
aroma of honeysuckle. The tattered garments fluttered in the
morning breeze, looking the worse for wear after so many weeks
in the Pleistocene. Frayed holes gaped at the knees of
Mulder's jeans, and a slash on her right pants leg left the
hem dangling. Her turtleneck was on the verge of losing a
sleeve if she didn't repair it soon. She decided to mend it
after it dried, using the sewing kit she still had in her
jacket pocket. She would stitch the holes in her socks and
panties, too, while she was feeling domestic.

Done with the clothes washing, she returned naked to the shore
to watch Mulder finish his bath.  He sat in the shallows with
knees splayed, water cresting his hipbones, his back to her.
The river ran broad and calm around him. Pebbles the size of
coins, polished smooth by centuries of tumbling in the
current, lined the banks as colorful as confetti. Pillowy
clouds and a periwinkle sky reflected in the river's glassy
surface, bright and tranquil, except where Mulder stirred the
water to wash his hair.

Had Diana Fowley ever watched him shampoo this way?

It bothered her that he'd waited so long to tell her about his
marriage. To be fair, he had no reason to bring up the subject
before now. His ex-wife hadn't been any of her business until
recently. Maybe she still wasn't. And God knew Scully hadn't
confessed anything about her own past romances.

Diana Fowley aside, it was nice getting to know the personal
side of Fox Mulder. She never would have guessed his favorite
color was yellow or his favorite holiday was Flag Day or that
he loved dinosaurs as a kid.

She stood for a moment, watching him scrub his scalp. He had
no shampoo, but worked hard to clean every trace of mud and
debris from his hair, rubbing and rinsing until it shone as
black and glossy as licorice. Next he scoured his neck and
face with his palms, causing the muscles in his arms and
shoulders to ripple and glisten. Although still mottled with
bruises, he was a striking man and the sight of his dewy skin
and sinewy vigor ignited a fire inside her.

She waded out to him and leaned down to kiss his cleaned
cheek. His skin smelled fresh like the river. He lifted his
gaze and reached up to cup her jaw with waterlogged fingers.

A startling current of lust surged beneath the surface of her
skin where he touched her. She looked down at him, bewildered
and delighted by the intensity of her attraction to him.

He stared back at her, his expression fierce, untamed and
hungry. Sliding sodden fingers down her neck, he traced a path
to her collarbone, making her shiver. It was difficult for her
to reconcile this wild, naked man with his 20th Century twin,
her clean-shaven, impeccable partner. Both versions set her
pulse pounding, but only with this one had she felt free to
open her heart. She regretted shutting the other out, letting
modern-day paradigms govern her instinctual desires.

At least here her mistake was rectified. In this valley there
were no rules to follow. No superiors to obey, no tribe to
placate, no one to please or impress but each other. This was
living honestly and she'd never felt more genuine.

She moved in front of him, straddled his legs and lowered
herself into his lap.

"Good morning," she said, looking into his eyes. Such
beautiful eyes, moss-green and fringed with wet, spiky lashes.
Water sparkled in the smooth, dark hair of his brows,
glistened in his bristly beard.

"Hey," he breathed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His
gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth.

She felt him growing hard beneath her.

"Again?" She chuckled.

"Don't look at me. Godzilla has a will of his own," he said,
before his tongue swept across her parted lips, and slipped
inside her mouth.

She reveled in his kiss. He tasted of the river, silty and
sweet and ripe with life. She breathed him in, filled her
sinuses with his humid scent. Ripe with desire, she painted
his back with loving caresses, longing to have him assail her
womb the same way his aroma overran her lungs and his taste
pervaded her mouth.

As if reading her thoughts, he pressed her backward until she
lay supine in the shallows, her spine supported by polished
pea stones and her hips still cradled in his lap. Her knees
rose on either side of him. She dug her toes into the gravel,
while her hair floated like a crown of sea kelp around her
head.

"Beautiful," he whispered, sounding awestruck. "My own
mermaid."

He scooped up a palm-full of water and trickled it onto her
breasts.

"I want you," she pleaded, responding to the pleasant pucker
of her nipples.

Without hesitation he shifted forward, spreading her legs
wider while pushing into her. He found her entrance on the
first thrust, as if they had performed this intimate act
innumerable times. He brought cool water with him, startling
her with its chill before his heat warmed them both. More
water dripped from his hair onto her chest, spattering her
breastbone like the first fat raindrops of a thunderstorm. He
grunted with apparent satisfaction as soon as they were
joined, his eyes closing briefly, a smile playing along his
lips.

The pressure between her legs set off a swell of passion that
traveled like a breaker from her abdomen to her chest, where
it whirlpooled around her heart.

"I...need more," she begged, feeling feral and greedy.

His hands slipped beneath her back and he lifted her once
again into his lap, embedding himself deeply inside her. Water
streamed from her hair as she rose up from the river. She
thrust her hips forward and shoved against him, crying out as
he filled her.

Sunshine heated her upturned face. It reflected off the water,
mottling his wet skin, making him shimmer, slick and urgent
beneath her. She arched in his arms when he bowed his head and
sucked her right nipple. Palming her left breast, he squeezed.
She pressed into the cup of his hand, while he pumped between
her splayed legs, jostling her with his thrusts. His teeth
nipped at her breast. Strong fingers kneaded her flesh.

A raft of ducks, half-hidden in the reeds on the opposite
shore, swam in wary circles, made nervous by the disturbance.
They quacked in disapproval whenever she moaned or cried out.
She ignored their complaints, preferring to focus instead on
Mulder's lovemaking, letting the act of coitus strip away her
peripheral awareness. Everything outside her evaporated as his
movements grew more demanding, until only he existed. His
prodding. His lust. His unrelenting thrusts and insistent
kisses. She steadied herself by gripping his shoulders, while
her hips rose and fell over him.

Using her legs to push, she rode his turgid flesh. The
friction against her inner walls was extraordinary. It excited
her and drove her to quicken her pace. She found coupling this
way, out of doors, washed by sun and water, caressed by a mild
morning breeze, to be astonishingly sensuous and arousing.

In no time, it seemed, she felt poised at the crest of a
colossal waterfall.

"I'm close," she warned.

At her announcement, his knees fell apart as he dug his heels
into the river bottom, searching for leverage, spreading her
legs impossibly wide. His fingers clasped her hips and she
relinquished all control, returning his earlier generosity by
allowing him to steer them toward their climax.

With a bruising grip he lifted her, then brought her back down
over him. Plunging, withdrawing, he continued to pound into
her until her insides burned and a welcome contraction began
behind her pubic bone.

She held her breath.

"Come for me," he urged.

Giving in to desire, she released all residual restraint and
allowed pleasure to shudder her womb. The hum of her panting
breaths and the frantic splash of water faded into silence at
the onset of her cascading orgasm. A blissful tremor ballooned
in her belly. It radiated outward, rippling through her torso,
numbing her limbs. She tried to shout her satisfaction, only
to discover she hadn't enough air in her lungs to whisper her
lover's name.

He ejaculated then, bathing her insides with his fiery
essence. His bellow prompted the ducks to take wing. They rose
from the reeds with a raucous flap of feathers, squawking
skyward, where they eventually dispersed to the north like
seed on the wind.

*   *   *

Chal tracked Gini's footprints around scrub brush and stunted
hardwoods, while only a spear's throw away Wol-la-chee
followed the trail of his Owl Clan kinsmen and the strangers
from Eel Clan. The two separate paths had begun in the swamp,
where Gini had doubled back to head after the others. From
there she'd traveled to this stony valley, staying always
within sight of the others' trail, yet never walking in their
footsteps.

It was very peculiar. Her tracks clearly indicated she often
paused behind shrubs, boulders and trees, as if she were
trying to remain hidden from the others. But why follow them
if she was afraid of being discovered?

"Have you told Dzeh you are interested in his sister?" Wol-la-
chee asked, raising his voice to be heard across the distance
between them.

"I am not interested in her," Chal lied. "She is too young."

In truth, he didn't think Gini was too young and she did
interest him...a lot. He liked the way she'd faced him, chin
held high as he teased her at the lake, calling her ugly,
although she was not ugly at all. To the contrary, she was one
of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. Even so it was not the
pleasantness of her face or the glossy shine to her hair that
made her stand out in his mind. It was the way she'd dared to
challenge his insulting behavior, telling him bluntly he was
rude. Her outspokenness was uncommon for a female, and he
found himself admiring her bravado.

"She is eight Feasts old," Wol-la-chee said. "It is a proper
age to become Promised."

"She does not appear that old. She behaves like a baby
and...and she frowns too much." Chal preferred not to discuss
his true feelings with this cousin of Dzeh's. Arranging for a
mate was the responsibility of a girl's father -- or her
brother in this case -- not nosy relatives. Besides, it was
bad luck to talk about a Joining before the Promise was made,
and he did not want to ruin his chances by testing the
Spirits.

"Dzeh is considering several boys as possible mates for her,"
Wol-la-chee continued, unwilling to let the subject lie. "But
maybe you already knew that."

Indeed, Chal had hoped this was the reason Dzeh was arranging
to share food at his mother's hearth...before the trouble with
the strangers sent them journeying here. His heart began to
beat faster as he considered the likelihood of a Promise
between Gini and himself. "Has he settled on someone?" he
asked, feigning indifference.

Wol-la-chee laughed, recognizing his pretense. "So you *did*
come along to impress Dzeh."

"I did not. I am here because the stranger named Muhl-dar
saved my life."

Wol-la-chee's good-natured expression suddenly turned stormy.
"You want to *help* Muhl-dar? He is an enemy of Owl Clan!"

"But not of Badger Clan," Chal reminded him.

"He is a chindi," Wol-la-chee insisted. "He stole a sacred
object."

"He also killed the mastodon that nearly killed me."

Wol-la-chee considered this. After a moment he grunted,
reluctantly acknowledging Chal's reasoning. Saving another
man's life was no small thing. It necessitated loyalty, even
to a man of notorious character. Everyone understood this.

The two hunters didn't speak for a while, focusing on their
task instead of their difference of opinion. Following their
individual trails, they continued south along A-Chi Stream
into a sandstone canyon strewn with fallen trees and boulders.
Steep, red cliffs loomed on either side of the rift, blocking
the sun and cloaking the lowland in darkness.

In the distance, two figures appeared out of the shadows,
hiking wearily upstream toward them.

"Is that Dzeh and Lin?" Chal asked.

Wol-la-chee recognized the approaching men and shouted to his
kinsmen, "Dzeh! Shi-da Lin!"

The others heard his call and responded by waving their
spears. Then all four men broke into a run, eager to exchange
information.

Chal was breathing hard when they came together in a copse of
quaking aspens.

"Where is Gini?" Dzeh asked, fear shining in his eyes. "Why is
she not with you?"

Chal exchanged surprised glances with Wol-la-chee.

"We followed her tracks here," Wol-la-chee said.

"Here?" Dzeh appeared thunderstruck.

"Let me show you." Chal led them across the canyon to where
Gini's diminutive footprints marked the sandy soil. "See?" He
pointed to her southerly trail.

Dzeh crouched to inspect the prints. He traced one small track
with a shaky finger. Tears filled his eyes.

"I do not understand," he mumbled.

Lin placed a broad hand on Dzeh's shoulder. Sadness lined the
older man's brow. "She must have gone after the strangers."

"Why would she do such a dangerous thing?" Dzeh asked, rising
to his feet. He looked at each man in turn. "We must bring her
back."

"Nephew...we cannot," Lin said. "Not if she has gone to Ye-
tsan Basin. The serpents--"

"I do not care about serpents! Gini is my sister. I must go to
her."

"No," Lin said, using the tone of an elder who will be obeyed
without question. "It is foolhardy. You have many needy kin
back at Turkey Lake. Our Clan depends on the meat and
protection you help provide. You must think about what is best
for them. It is too late for Gini. She is with the Spirits
now. You cannot bring her back."

"We do not know that...it may not be too late."

Chal had heard the tales of Ye-tsan and knew its dangers. If
the girl had gone into that horrible place, she would soon be
dead, if she wasn't already.

Aspen leaves rattled overhead, sounding like angry snakes.
Dzeh peered along Gini's thin trail. He took two faltering
steps toward the south, then stopped, fists clenched in
desperation.

"I will go with you, Dzeh," Chal offered. "I-I am not afraid."

Dzeh turned and regarded him with hopeful eyes.

After a moment, however, his expression turned forlorn and he
shook his head. "You are a Badger Clansman, Chal. I cannot ask
you to take such a risk on behalf of Owl Clan." Then, scowling
at Lin and Wol-la-chee, he snarled, "Such a sacrifice is for
kin."

Lin drew himself up to his full height. He was a robust,
imposing man despite his years, lined by experience and
muscled by years of difficult living. Placing gnarled hands on
Dzeh's shoulders, he met the younger man's outrage with
compassion.

"We cannot, my Nephew. We have greater responsibilities...
mates, children and kin who rely on us to feed and clothe
them. If we go to Ye-tsan, we sacrifice them along with
ourselves. Ask yourself who will care for Klizzie if you
perish? Who will teach Wol-la-chee's three young sons how to
hunt? Who will comfort them when we do not return home? We are
more than four men; we must think beyond ourselves. You know
this."

"But...Gini..."

Tears overflowed Dzeh's eyes and streamed into his beard.
Grief distorted his face.

Lin spoke softly, but with conviction. "She is already lost,
Nephew. Do not sacrifice the living to chase a ghost."

A miserable moan bubbled from Dzeh's throat, numbing Chal's
arms and legs with its intensity. The boy's chest tightened at
the thought of Gini alone against the monsters of Ye-tsan.

Dzeh spun to face the southern horizon and suddenly bellowed,
"Gini! Giniiiii!"

When nothing but his wretched echo returned from the blood-
colored cliffs, Dzeh's shoulders slumped and he buried his
face in his hands. The others waited quietly, grief-stricken,
too, while he wept unashamedly for his dead sister.

*   *   *

"Get over here, Scully! I need your help."

Mulder felt ridiculous. He was standing knee deep in the
river, wielding a branch of driftwood like a baseball bat,
dressed in nothing but his boxers as he tried to herd a
snapping turtle the size of a hubcap toward shore.

His underwear offered no real protection against an attack,
should the turtle decide to turn and bite him, but he hadn't
been comfortable with the idea of chasing after it with the
family jewels dangling in front of its menacing jaws like bait
on a hook.

"You're on your own, Mulder. I only promised to gut and cook
it, not catch and kill it." Scully sat on shore, watching him
with an amused look on her face. Her torn panties lay in her
lap, waiting to be mended while she threaded her sewing
needle.

"You could at least help me corner...whoa!"

The turtle suddenly spun and headed straight at him. He back-
peddled into the shallows, splashing as he tried not to trip
and fall. He swung his club, bringing it down hard, but the
turtle zigzagged out of the way and he missed it by several
inches. Water sprayed the air, momentarily blinding him.

When his view cleared, he saw the snapper lunging open-mouthed
at his crotch.

"Shit!"

He whacked at it again. This time, driftwood connected with
shell, producing a lethal-sounding thud. The impact rattled
Mulder's teeth and he nearly lost his grip on the club, but
blood began to ooze through the current around his ankles. The
turtle was floundering. Its head lolled to one side as it
tried to retreat.

Mulder struck once more, hitting it squarely between its beady
eyes. This time it stopped moving altogether. Bobbling on the
waves, it began to drift downstream, limbs and head hanging
limply. Mulder followed it at a safe distance, wondering if it
was just pretending to be dead or if in fact he had killed it.
He nudged its bloodied nose with his stick to be sure.

Nothing. It didn't move. Didn't even blink.

"Yes!" He lifted his club overhead and performed a lively
victory dance, kicking up water as he pranced around the dead
turtle.

Scully smiled and clapped her hands in dignified approval,
which only encouraged him to strut more. He hurled his branch
away and beat his chest for effect.

"Okay, Tarzan, haul it out so we can eat," she called.

Grasping the turtle by its stout tail, he dragged it to shore.
It weighed fifty pounds or more, and left a trail of crushed
grass nearly two feet wide from the riverbank to where Scully
was sitting. It pleased him more than he expected to present
it to her. He was providing for his mate and the idea puffed
him with masculine pride.

She smiled with obvious appreciation when he deposited the
turtle at her feet. "Nice," she said.

Her eyes weren't focused on the turtle, he realized. She was
ogling his crotch, where an erection tented his boxers.

"Huh, whaddaya know?" He feigned surprise. "Is it too soon
to...uh...you know?"

She set her sewing aside. "Not at all."

"Then c'mere." He dropped to his knees and opened his arms.

*   *   *

Gini walked through Ye-tsan Basin with her mouth gaping. She'd
never seen anything like this place before. There was food
everywhere!

Camels, horses, pronghorns, bison...they roamed the lowland in
great herds, indifferent to her passing. Beavers, turtles,
frogs and birds crowded the waterway. Heavenly Spirits, there
was enough meat in this one valley to feed two hungry clans
for an entire year!

Earlier in the morning she'd filled her stomach with six fat
duck eggs and more mushrooms than she could count. Then she'd
eaten fistfuls of sorrel and ramps, which grew in profusion
along the riverbank. She considered gathering mussels for
later in the day, but the shellfish were so plentiful she saw
no reason to carry them.

No doubt about it, half a day's hike south of those
terrifying, giant footprints, Ye-tsan had turned into one of
the most hospitable places she'd ever encountered, nothing at
all like the grim stories had claimed. There were no rivers of
human blood, no sandy dessert of powdered bones, no flying
serpents or mastodon-sized monsters.

Only lots and lots of delicious things to eat.

She decided to stop worrying about oversized serpents. She
hadn't seen a single one since coming here. Dzeh and Lin had
been silly to turn back. There was nothing fearsome in this
valley and it would be a fine place to live for the
summer...or even longer.

Comforted by a full belly, and eager to catch up with Muhl-dar
and Day-nuh, Gini broke into a happy run.

*   *   *

Scully dozed next to Mulder on the riverbank. Fresh grass
cradled her naked body and Mulder's arm cushioned her head.
The pleasant sweet-tart smell of chlorophyll prickled her
nose, while honeybees droned in the flowering shrubs higher up
the bank where their clothes were still drying. The river
whispered like a sated lover beyond her feet as it flowed
gently southward.

She covered her face with the crook of her arm, blocking out
the brilliant morning sky. The sun's rays warmed her skin and
she drifted between sleep and arousal as Mulder drew feather-
light circles on her abdomen with his finger. His touch was
partly stimulating and partly hypnotic...an erotic
combination.

"Scully..." His voice vibrated like the humming bees. "When
was your last period?"

His question brought her fully awake. She unshielded her eyes
and reached down to close her hand over his, stilling his
eddying caress.

"I...I'm not sure. Why?"

"You know why." His tone sounded worried and a little
accusatory. "We've been having unprotected sex for weeks."

She counted silently backward to the day when Klizzie had
given her cattail down to absorb her menstrual flow.

Five weeks had passed since then, she realized with some
surprise.

"I'm a little late."

"What's 'a little'?"

"Maybe a week."

He sat up, jostling her as he slid his arm out from under her
neck. Ordinarily he was quite adept at concealing his emotions
beneath a mask of professional detachment, but this news
clearly rocked him and he wasn't able to hide his shock.
Concern puckered his brow and tightened his lips, and he
regarded her with nervous eyes.

Feeling exposed beneath the intensity of his stare, she sat
up, too, and hugged her knees to her chest. What had happened
to his recent resolve to become a father? she wondered.

"It doesn't necessarily mean anything, Mulder," she tried to
reassure him. "There are numerous explanations for
oligomenorrhoea. Overexertion, poor diet, stress, even a
change in routine. I've experienced all of those since coming
here."

He nodded slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth. Shifting
his gaze from her to the river, he seemed to consider his next
words with great care.

When he did speak, his voice was quiet, his tone
indeterminate. "But it's possible you're pregnant."

"No...I'm...I can't get pregnant, Mulder. You know that." Not
wanting to rehash this familiar conversation, she plucked
peevishly at the grass beside her. Did they have to go over it
all again?

"But maybe you can...now," he said in a voice so soft it was
nearly lost beneath the rustle of the river.

She reached out and tagged his arm, drawing his attention back
to her. "What makes you say that?"

"Something happened two nights ago."

Two nights ago she'd woken to find him red-eyed from crying.

"What...what happened?"

"I went to the river to...cool off. While I was swimming I
experienced a, uh, time anomaly."

This surprised her. Why had he waited until now to mention it?
"What kind of anomaly?"

He shrugged, causing sunlight to slide across his fine-grained
shoulders, highlighting a fresh rash of gooseflesh and
exposing his nervousness. "It felt like falling backward only
I wound up where I'd started...but younger...sort of...I
guess."

"Mulder, that doesn't make any sense."

"I know." A humorless smile nudged his furred cheek. "Sorry."

"Tell me more," she urged.

He released a slow breath. On the far shore a pair of egrets
argued over a flopping fish. The sun shone so brightly off the
water it was painful to the eyes.

"The sky seemed to buckle," he said. "Everything became
blurry. I'm pretty sure I was seeing events unfold backwards."

"What events?"

"The Boggs case. Going to Lake Jordan in Raleigh. Getting shot
in the leg, only everyone was moving and talking in reverse,
including me. It was very disorienting."

"I can imagine." She reached for his hand and dovetailed her
fingers with his because she didn't want him to take her next
question as an accusation. "Other than the backward direction
of events, how was your experience so different from mine?"

"Your visions?" He hung his head. "Not so different, I guess."
Squeezing her fingers, he offered her a contrite smile. "I
think I know what you're going to say next."

"What?"

"You're going to ask why I didn't believe you. Why I didn't
accept your visions when I'm willing to accept every other
paranormal event we encounter."

"And your answer?"

"I suppose I didn't like what you were seeing."

So they were making progress after all; he was being open,
answering honestly.

"And now that you've experienced a time event of your own?"

"I feel like a jackass."

He lifted her hand and placed it on his bare thigh.

"It's gone," she said. "Your scar is gone." His skin was
unblemished and smooth.

The realization that he was reverting to a younger version of
himself made her stomach roll uneasily. In less than two
months he had regressed five years. How long before he was a
teenager...or a toddler?

"Whatever's happening to us, Scully, it's changing us
physically. We have no idea to what extent, or how far it
might go."

They had to find a way out of this place. "You're getting
younger, while I'm...not. How fair is that?" she tried to
joke.

He didn't smile. "You've seen glimpses of the future. In them
you're pregnant, giving birth. How do you think that's
possible?"

"I don't know." She honestly had no explanation.

"Your vision suggests your fertility is going to be restored
at some point. How that happens, I don't even want to guess.
But when it happens is what's important right now." He pointed
to the new scar on her abdomen. "Before that? Or after?"

Her hand went automatically to the gunshot wound...undeniable
evidence that she was already physically changed by an event
which had yet to happen. Did it mean her fertility was
restored, too? Could she become pregnant now?

"No, the child I saw in my vision was a product of IVF, not
natural conception."

"Are you sure about that?"

No, she wasn't sure. Not one hundred percent. She'd seen only
bits and pieces, like snapshots tossed randomly onto a
tabletop, some half-hidden beneath others. The experience had
been incomplete.

The only thing she knew with any certainty was how she'd felt
when she held their son in her arms. She'd been happy and
proud and calm. And Mulder had appeared to feel the same way.

"Last night you claimed to be ready for fatherhood," she
reminded him.

His expression turned forlorn. "I was. I am. But you have to
admit," -- he waved a hand at the foreign landscape -- "this
isn't an ideal place to have a child."

He was right, of course. Bringing a child into the Ice Age was
foolhardy. Assuming she could carry a baby to term and give
birth without complications, there were other dangers to
consider.

"Scully, I don't know if you've thought of this, but..." He
ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "If you have a
baby here, we might not be able to bring it back with us."

Her heart began to race. She wouldn't leave a baby here, she
couldn't. She'd insist on staying with it.

But would Mulder stay, too? Was it even fair to ask him to
make such a sacrifice? He'd agreed to parenthood, not a life
sentence in the Pleistocene.

Another awful thought struck her. They might not be given the
opportunity to choose between staying and going. They might
simply fall forward through time the same way they'd fallen
backward...without their child.

The baby would be left to die alone.

Anxiety glossed Mulder's eyes, making him look as scared as
she felt. In a croaking voice he said, "There's another
concern. I'm not the only man you've been with."

So it wasn't just the idea of pregnancy that had him spooked,
but that Dzeh could be the father.

Quickly, she calculated the timing of her cycle. Assuming she
wasn't barren and she'd ovulated on schedule, she should have
been ten to twelve days beyond ovulation when she slept with
Dzeh, which meant the odds were against a pregnancy by him.
But the rhythm method was notoriously unpredictable;
intercourse at any point during a woman's cycle, even while
menstruating, sometimes resulted in conception. And if her
cycle had been delayed, for any of the reasons she'd just
cited, her chances of conceiving a child by Dzeh were even
greater.

Mulder turned to face her, rose onto his knees and took both
of her hands in his. Looking sincere, he said, "Scully, marry
me."

Marry him?

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"I'm not trying to be funny."

She scowled at him. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"I'm not pregnant."

"It doesn't matter. That's not why I'm asking."

"Why are you asking?"

"Because I plan to spend the rest of my life with you...as
more than your FBI partner, more than your friend, more than
your lover. I want to be your husband, Scully. Say you'll
marry me."

Doubt closed her throat. She felt confused by his motivations
and timing. He wouldn't be proposing if she'd started her
period on schedule, would he? Or if she hadn't slept with
Dzeh? Or if they'd never come to the Pleistocene?

Or...did those things matter only to her, not to him?

She'd promised herself just yesterday to follow her heart. And
yet here she was facing her first opportunity to be honest
about her feelings and she was falling back on her habit of
trying to second-guess them.

Let your heart lead you, she reminded herself. Don't over-
think it. Don't question it. Just *feel* it.

When she didn't answer immediately, his shoulders slumped.

"Unless...you don't want..." His voice petered out. Swallowing
hard, he released his grip on her hands.

What exactly did she want?

For five years she'd been trailing after him, searching for
the truth in shadows, illusions and lies. But her experiences
over the last few weeks had shown her that falsehood and
dishonesty were not hiding places for the truth, whether the
deception came from an enemy or from within oneself. The truth
only presented itself to an unguarded and honest heart.
Devotion, attachment, loyalty...love...these were where truth
resided.

Mulder seemed ready to take a serious step forward in their
relationship, a leap of faith, considering their dire
circumstances.

She should accept his proposal. She certainly loved him enough
and that was all that really mattered, wasn't it? It was past
time for her to admit her true feelings...to herself and to
him.

"Mulder..."

It took more courage than she imagined to expose her heart.
Reaching for his hand again, she drew strength from his
solidity.

"I...I love you," she said at last, deciding to trust her
emotions.

His eyes pooled with tears and a smile formed on his softly
curved lips. He whispered, "I guess I knew that."

"You did?"

"Well...I'd been hoping it for a long time, longer than you
can imagine, but I knew it for sure when--" His voice caught
in his throat and he turned away.

"When...?"

"When you agreed to sleep with Dzeh..." -- his words were
strained and quiet -- "to save my life."

She tugged him toward her and slid her arms around his waist.
It relieved her beyond measure to know he understood why she'd
agreed to the mate exchange. She loved him...Jesus, she loved
him...more than any silly sense of pride or dignity, more than
her own personal safety. Submitting to Dzeh had meant nothing
when compared to saving Mulder's life. There had been no other
choice for her and she would do it again in a heartbeat if it
meant she was protecting him by doing so.

Smiling through tears, she said, "Go ahead, ask me again."

"What?" He drew back, eyes brimming with raw emotion.

She wiped a falling tear from his cheek before it became lost
in his beard.

"Ask me again."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wait..." -- he held up a finger -- "I want to do this right."

He rose on one knee and took her hand in his. All his
nervousness and sorrow seemed to drain away when he looked
into her eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Dana Katherine Scully, would you do me the honor of agreeing
to become my wife?"

He looked so sincere and happy, posed on one knee, eagerly
awaiting her answer. Behind him the Pleistocene landscape was
picturesque, a Garden of Eden, colorful, pristine, untamed.
The air smelled of flowers and fresh water. Stilt-legged
birds, with feathers as white as a bride's gown, tiptoed
through the shallows. Smaller birds clung to the reeds,
cheerfully warbling and bobbing in the mid-day breeze. A herd
of striped antelope with corkscrewing horns grazed on a sea of
grass beside the shimmering river not more than fifty yards
away. And grand, ruby cliffs towered above the valley,
cradling the lowland in their open arms while bestowing a
sense of security and peace to everything within view. The
scene was unspoiled, magnificent. The moment was perfect.

Scully wanted to remember it forever.

When she didn't immediately answer him, Mulder misinterpreted
her silence and his face fell with disappointment.

Until she said yes. Then he rose to his feet, pulled her up
after him, and wrapped his arms around her. Lifting her from
the ground, he spun them in a circle and whooped for joy. His
shout echoed off the stone cliffs, repeating his elation over
and over again.

"Mulder!" She laughed at his obvious enthusiasm.

"You won't regret it," he promised, setting her back on her
toes.

At that moment, she believed his words. She felt dizzy and
happy and all her regrets seemed to be in the past.

*   *   *

Klizzie awoke to a caress, a teasing and gentle stroke along
her jaw.

"Dzeh?" She turned on the furs to look over her shoulder,
hoping to find he had come back, safe and willing to forgive
her.

Instead, Klesh was grinning at her, deepening the scar in his
left cheek. "You are sleeping late this morning, Cousin."

"Do not touch me!" She ducked out from beneath his gnarled
hand and sat up. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"I thought you might be lonely without your mate." He leaned
toward her and stroked her arm.

Recoiling, she narrowed her eyes and said through gritted
teeth, "Dzeh will kill you for touching me."

"Oh, really? He did not kill me the last time." Klesh's hand
moved to her breast, where he cupped her and softly traced her
nipple with a twisted thumb. "Maybe he is not so possessive as
you think."

She slapped his face hard. "Touch me again and I will kill you
myself."

He laughed at her threat, a mean, barking sound that made her
stomach roil.

"You will not kill me, Kliz."

"I will. You cannot force me to lay with you again."

"Your memory is not so good, my Cousin. I did not force you
the first time."

Shame heated her face at the memory. In truth, he had not
forced her. But she was no longer the foolish girl she'd been
then. He could not bribe her into his bed the way he had four
years ago.

Smiling, he rolled onto his back to fish into his totem pouch.
From it he withdrew an astonishing ornament. A delicate
necklace of shiny yellow, so finely worked only the Spirits
could have made such a beautiful thing. He dangled it in front
of her eyes.

"Like it?" he asked.

She had never seen anything so lovely. "Where did you get it?"

"I have gone many places in four years. I cannot remember them
all." His eyes gleamed as brightly as the necklace. "It can be
yours."

"Only if I submit to you, I suppose?"

He shrugged. "Is that such an unfair trade?"

How dare he ask such a question? She rose to her feet. "You
are my *cousin*," she accused. "I will *never* lay with you
again."

Giving another shrug, he tucked the ornament back in his totem
pouch. "Then I will be wanting my breakfast instead. Bring it
to me now."

Anger flared inside her. She hated that he ordered her around
as if she were his mate. Filled with rage, she began to gather
her clothes and stuff them into a travel pack.

"What are you doing?" he snarled. "Where do you think you are
going?"

"To my Aunt's. I will not share a roof with a chindi like
you."

Heart beating wildly, stomach churning, she grabbed her pack
and fled the shelter.

*   *   *

So this is domestic bliss, Mulder thought.

His future bride was tending their meal while he whittled a
sturdy sapling into a six-foot-long spear with his knife.

They sat at the entrance of the cave, on opposite sides of the
hearth, where a small fire burned inside a two-tiered ring of
stones. She wore her clean jeans and camisole. He was dressed
in his pants, having opted to go shirtless. The midday sun
flooded the mouth of the cave and warmed his bare shoulders
and chest.

He could scarcely believe it, but, sweet Jesus be praised,
Scully had agreed to become his wife. He'd fully expected her
to argue against marriage, citing all the logical reasons why
it wouldn't work out, and he was ready to counter with
confessions of true love, when she surprised the hell out of
him by saying yes.

A light breeze whispered through the valley, fluttering leaves
and grass. Trees lined the river's curving banks. Pale flowers
blossomed thickly along both shores. Thirty feet below them,
an enormous beaver nosed a freshly felled log downstream to
its dam, cutting a V-shaped stripe through the glistening
water. In the shallows, where Mulder had bathed earlier, a
herd of dainty pronghorns drank their fill, oblivious to the
two humans who watched them from the rocks above.

Mulder drew his knife along the shaft of his spear, shaving it
smooth and straight. Curls of wood spiraled from the blade and
piled in his lap. He didn't think he could feel any happier
than he did right now.

Strips of turtle meat were roasting on long sticks propped
against the hearth stones near his feet. Scully periodically
rotated the skewers, adjusting their distance from the coals
to ensure even cooking. The food smelled delicious.

As promised, she'd gutted and butchered the turtle. While
she'd been preparing the meat, he'd built a proper hearth by
wrestling stones up to the cave, and then positioning them
around the existing fire. He was pleased with the outcome. The
circular wall prevented the wind from spreading ash into the
cave, and would keep the coals protected and burning
throughout the night. It also provided a decent shelf for a
spit or for propping skewers.

"Nice job on the fire pit," Scully complimented him, checking
one of the steaks to see if it was done.

"I've had some practice." He held up his spear and squinted
along its length, eyeballing its uniformity.

"You've built fireplaces before?"

"No, I worked for a mason one summer when I was in high
school. We renovated chimneys, old fieldstone walls, did some
foundation repair."

It had been laborious work. Long hours in the hot sun,
tormented by insects, earning slave-wages. The physical
intensity was mind numbing, which suited him fine at the time.
Hauling and stacking brick or stone seemed to settle his
nerves more effectively than the expensive shrink his mom sent
him to twice a week.

"Not the easiest way to earn money." She gave him a
sympathetic smile.

"I've had worse jobs." Hell, there were days when he would
gladly trade his FBI badge for a mason's chisel and a
wheelbarrow. "What's the worst job you ever had?"

"Laundromat attendant."

His brows lifted and he flashed her a curious grin. "You
handled strangers' unmentionables for money?"

"Skivvies, socks, uniforms. You name it, I washed, pressed and
folded it, three afternoons a week throughout my entire junior
year."

Hearing this he felt a little guilty he hadn't volunteered to
help her wash their clothes earlier. "No wonder your suitcase
always looks like it was packed by a professional."

"How do you know what my packed suitcase looks like?"

"I'm a peeker, remember?"

"Ahh, right." She nodded and offered him a piece of cooked
meat on a blackened skewer.

It sizzled and steamed, putting off a mouth-watering aroma. He
set down his knife and unfinished spear to take the stick from
her.

She selected another for herself. "What else did you do before
you decided to devote your life -- and mine -- to the pursuit
of the truth?"

"I think I was always searching for the truth." He bit into
the meat. It seared his tongue, but he was too hungry to wait
for it to cool. "Even when I was bagging groceries at Wakeby's
or lifeguarding at Sengekontacket, I was looking for Sam. Mmm,
this is good."

"You were a lifeguard?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"No, not really." She ate carefully, nibbling at the edges of
her steak as if she were eating corn on the cob. "Did you sit
in one of those lifeguard towers?"

"I did."

"Ogled by all the girls, I bet."

"Hardly. But I tanned up nicely. How about you?"

"Did I tan nicely?" she teased. "Or were you wondering if I've
been ogled by girls?"

"If you have any stories that involve either tanning or ogling
I'd be happy to listen." Juice from his steak drizzled into
his beard and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. When
the grease spread, he found himself wishing again for a razor.
Growing a beard was like wearing a hairy bib.

"I waited tables," she said. "Did a lot of babysitting. I
liked watching people's kids...although there was this one
eight-year-old boy who--"

She abruptly stopped talking. Mulder glanced up from his food
to find her staring into the valley, back stiff, muscles taut.

"What is it?" he asked, following her gaze to the river.

"Someone's down there."

"Where?"

"About fifty yards upstream."

His focus moved to a grove of broad-leaved hardwoods that
fringed the riverbank. Their pale, slanting trunks leaned out
over the water, creating a dense bower that could easily hide
an entire tribe. He searched for movement beneath the arching
branches, but could see nothing.

"How many?" he asked, putting down his food and reaching for
his unfinished spear. Could it be Dzeh and his fellow
tribesmen? Some other hostile natives?

"I caught only a glimpse," she said.

After a moment a small, solitary figure emerged from beneath
the cover of trees. Mulder tightened his grip on his spear and
rose to his feet.

Scully stood, too.

The interloper paused, lifted an arm and shaded sun-blinded
eyes to stare back at them.

"Mulder, I think that's..." She startled him when she suddenly
broke into a wobbly jog, favoring her injured ankle as she
headed down the rugged path that led from the cave to the
river. "It's Gini," she shouted over her shoulder.

"Scully, wait!" He bolted after her. Dodging stones, he
ignored the scour of loose gravel against his bare feet. He
pictured Dzeh and a dozen of his beefy cousins hiding in the
underbrush, waiting to ambush and kill them. "Scully, she
might not be alone," he warned.

"It doesn't matter." She hobbled downhill. "If anyone else is
down there, they've already seen our fire."

Smoke curled through the air, carrying the hazy smell of their
roasting meat across the valley, pinpointing their location
like a flag.

"Gini!" Scully waved to the girl.

The child waved back and ran toward them. "Day-nuh!" Her high-
pitched shout ricocheted off the stone cliffs. Even at this
distance, Mulder could see she was grinning from ear to ear.
"Muhl-dar!"

A large pack hung from her narrow shoulders and pounded her
back with every stride. Despite its size, it didn't seem to
slow her as she charged around shrubbery and raced with
splashing steps through river water.

Scully slowed when she reached the bottom of the hill and let
Gini come the last few yards to her. Still upslope, Mulder
paused where the view of the valley was better. If Dzeh and
his Cro-Magnon buddies were going to pop out of the bushes at
any minute, he wanted to be where he could see them coming.

Panting and laughing Gini threw herself into Scully's
outstretched arms. She babbled excitedly, hugging Scully and
repeating her name again and again. Her eyes were bright with
tears; a flash of white teeth lit her small, brown face.

Mulder felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat at the sight
of Scully embracing the happy little girl. For just an instant
Gini reminded him of Samantha and this joyous reunion made him
wish again for his sister's long-awaited homecoming.

"Let me look at you," Scully murmured, kneeling to inspect the
girl. "Hold still, sweetie."

Mulder's stomach contracted when he saw the girl's legs and
arms were streaked with dried blood.

"Is she okay?" he asked, combing the valley again for any sign
of Dzeh.

"I think so. Just insect bites and superficial scratches.
There's some minor infection. These cuts need a thorough
cleaning."

That was an understatement. Gini's hands and feet were black
with grime. What appeared to be berry juice stained her chin
and lips, and her hair was matted with twigs and grass. Mud
caked her torn clothing.

She grinned up at Mulder, seemingly unconcerned by her filthy
condition. Shrugging her pack from her shoulders, she set it
on the ground at her feet. She crouched to rummage through its
contents, chattering the entire time in a breathy, eager
voice. At last she found what she was looking for and withdrew
her hand, fingers curled around something of obvious
significance.

Her expression grew solemn. She straightened and walked uphill
to Mulder, and when she stood only an arm's length away, she
opened her fist. There, cradled in the well of her palm, was
the little ivory carving, the idol he'd stolen from the
tribe's cave.

Jesus, she'd come all this way to bring him that damn thing.

Reluctantly he took it from her, causing her to smile shyly
but proudly up at him. He didn't share her enthusiasm and
couldn't return her smile. The carving had brought nothing but
trouble. It wasn't connected with Scully's visions as he'd
once thought -- his own experience with the time anomaly had
proven that. It was only a worthless bit of bone and all he
wanted to do was toss it into the river.

Instead, he tucked it into his pants pocket and crouched to
embrace the beaming girl.

*   *   *

Why did I strike her? The question circled Dzeh's mind like a
windstorm in a canyon.

He walked without seeing; his focus was not on the trail, but
on that awful moment when he'd last spoken to Gini. He'd hit
her across the face. Yelled at her. Oh, Spirits, help him,
he'd knocked her to the ground.

"I *hate* you!" she screamed up at him.

Had she died hating him?

Tears blurred the path. He stumbled, unable to feel his feet.
If not for Lin's grip on his arm, he would wander off course,
fall to his hands and knees. Not that it would matter. He
deserved this anguish. He had been a brute to her when he
should have controlled his temper. In the end it was his
stubbornness that killed her. She was dead because he'd placed
tribal customs and his anger for Muhl-dar ahead of his love
for her.

Dzeh felt his mother's spirit surround him. In his grief he
believed he could hear her weeping in the rustle of leaves
overhead. The breeze whispered her dying words through the
wind-tossed branches, begging him again to take care of his
young sister, to watch over her with the heart of a doting
parent because she would not otherwise know such love.

"I am sorry," he mumbled to his dead mother. "I am sorry."

Soon his mother would greet Gini in the Spirit World; she
would hold her little girl in her arms once more.

His arms would be empty. Klizzie's, too. And there was no one
to blame but himself.

*   *   *

"Mulder, bring your shirt from the cave." Scully took Gini's
hand and began to lead her toward the river.

"My shirt?"

"She'll need something to wear after her bath," she called
over her shoulder.

"Why not your shirt?"

"It needs mending."

"Won't mine be kinda big for her?"

"We can roll up the sleeves. Just get it, please."

Mulder jogged up the incline, hurried into the cave and back
out again, taking the shirt with him.

At the river, he handed it off, then took up a position
several yards up-slope, where he would have a better view of
the valley. He was still expecting Dzeh to show up any minute.
 
Scully helped Gini out of her muddy, torn tunic and inspected
her chest and back. The girl talked non-stop while dutifully
turning to be examined on all sides. Mulder clenched his fists
at the sight of her ribbed torso and knobby knees. Her once
neat braids were unraveled and fell in knotted mats down her
back. Mud and blood caked her slender limbs.

"Did he do that to her?" Mulder nodded at the girl's bloodied
skin. "He" referred to "Dzeh," of course.

"They're just ordinary scratches and insect bites," Scully
said. "She hasn't been abused."

Skeptical, he grunted and glanced again to the north, where
there was still no sign of Dzeh or the others.

Scully quickly stripped out of her camisole and jeans before
herding Gini into the river. The girl jabbered a mile a minute
as she pranced naked into the water.

"Can you understand anything she's saying?" Mulder called down
to them.

"I recognize the words 'Turkey Lake.'"

"Turkey Lake?"

"The place we ran away from."

"It was called Turkey Lake?"

"I think that's what she was telling me the day we played word
games on the hill." She lowered herself into the shallows and
motioned to Gini to sit, too.

Mulder's focus swiveled between Gini and the landscape to the
north. He wondered how it was possible such a young child
could come all this way by herself. Surely someone must have
accompanied her.

"Ask her about Dzeh," he said.

At the mention of Dzeh's name, Gini pointed a finger in the
direction she'd come. Her words came out in clipped, angry
tones as she jabbed the air. "Ye-tsan Dzeh. Ye-tsan Dzeh."

"You understand that?" Mulder asked Scully.

She shook her head and scooped water over the girl's
shoulders, wetting her thoroughly before massaging the filth
from her neck and back.

"She sounds pissed," he said. She had good reason to be mad,
he knew; Dzeh had walloped her pretty hard back at the
wedding.  "Ten to one she's running away from home."

"She must have followed us." Scully scrubbed the girl's
outstretched arms.

If she had, that meant she'd been within sight of them the
entire way. Shit, he hoped she hadn't seen them--

"Maybe she left later and tracked us."

"Mulder, she can't be more than seven or eight years old."

As old as that? She looked like a kindergartner.

"Could be cave kids know these things," he suggested.

"We walked in the stream, remember? We didn't leave tracks."

"Yeah, but she was the one who told us to do that."

And if Gini knew that old trick, then Dzeh did, too. He would
be coming for them as soon as he discovered she was missing,
which must have been the morning after they'd left. They'd had
only a half a day head start at best.

Gini emerged from her bath clean and cheerful. Her tanned skin
glistened and her wet hair hung in dripping ropes down her
narrow back. She prattled in an exuberant tone, taking a
breath only when Scully tugged Mulder's turtleneck over her
head.

"Oooh!" she said, eyes rounding as the fabric draped her
shoulders. Scully guided her arms into the sleeves and then
rolled up the cuffs. The shirt's hem hung well below her
knees. She seemed delighted by the feel of the material,
squirming inside it, patting the sleeves, burying her face in
the loose-fitting neck. "Ne-zhoni," she said in an awed tone.

She ran to Mulder to show him, as if he'd never seen his shirt
before. Grinning broadly, eyes bright, she twirled several
times in front of him. When the fabric flared as she whirled,
she squealed with delight, making Mulder smile in spite of his
concerns about Dzeh.

He scooped her up in his arms. She giggled and hugged him,
while calling out to "Day-nuh."

Scully paused in her dressing to wave at her.

Mulder tugged playfully at the girl's sleeve. "You like my
shirt?"

"Lyke ma sssert?" she repeated, smiling. Not the least self-
conscious, she reached up to stroke his short beard.

He gave her nose a light peck and then pretended to try to
bite her fingers. The game made her laugh and she teased him
by waggling her hand near his lips, pulling away just before
he could nip it.

Scully climbed the hill to join them.

"We have to take her back, you know," she said, as soon as she
stood beside Mulder.

His smile quickly faded. "We can't go back. They'll kill us."

"We don't have a choice."

"But she...she obviously ran away. Wouldn't you say that means
she doesn't want to go back?"

"She's a child, Mulder. She doesn't know what she wants."
Scully reached out to give Gini's cheek a gentle stroke. "She
belongs with her family."

"So Dzeh can beat her again?"

Scully frowned. "You're judging him by 20th Century
standards."

"I don't care what century it is. It's wrong to hit a child."

"Mulder--"

"No, Scully. We saw him hit her -- *hard*. She's just a little
kid. I'm not taking her back to be beaten up again."

Gini's brows peaked with worry. "Muhl-dar a-nah-ne-dzin bilh
Day-nuh?"

Mulder had no idea what she was asking, but clearly their
argument was worrying her. He tried to corral his mounting
irritation.

Scully appeared to do the same. She lowered her tone and said,
"We don't know if what we saw was an everyday occurrence or an
isolated incident."

"She's gone to considerable trouble to get away. That should
tell us something."

"The fact that she's alive, healthy and educated by
Pleistocene standards tells me she hasn't been neglected.
She's been well cared for."

"We can care for her, too." He wasn't convinced it was in her
best interest -- or theirs -- to return her. Not yet anyway.

"Mulder, she needs her real family. They love her. She loves
them."

"Shall we test that theory?" If Scully needed proof, he would
give it to her. He shifted Gini to his left hip. "What was the
word for 'Turkey Lake'?"

"'Than-zie tkoh,'" Scully said, pronouncing each syllable
carefully.

"'Than-zie tkoh'? Fine. Come on, Gini, I'm taking you to Than-
zie tkoh. I'm taking you back to Dzeh."

Gini stiffened in his arms and her eyes rounded with obvious
dread when he began hiking north.

"No, no," Gini squawked, using English. She struggled to be
put down. "No tehi. No ta-yi-the! Muhl-dar, no, no, no."

"Yes," he insisted, gripping her more tightly. He hardened his
heart against her escalating panic and quickened his pace.
"Yes, Than-zie tkoh. Yes Dzeh."

"NO!" she shrieked. "No Than-zie tkoh, no Dzeh!"
 
He felt like a monster for doing this. She was clearly upset
and desperate to be released. She began boxing his head and
neck with her fists. He took the blows...apt punishment for
his cruelty.

"Nooooo, Muhl-dar!" She was crying in earnest now, kicking and
twisting in an effort to escape. She let out an ear-piercing
screech.

He stopped walking and spun to face Scully.

"Can I stop now?" he shouted to be heard over Gini's desperate
wails.

Scully's chin dropped to her chest. After an excruciating
half-minute she nodded.

Thank God. Poor Gini was distraught. She must think his
actions abominable after coming all this way to deliver the
carving.

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed, stroking her damp hair.
"Shhhh. Demonstration over. No Than-zie tkoh, no Dzeh. Shhhh."

She collapsed against his shoulder, arms and legs dangling
limply. Her cries slowly dwindled into watery hiccups as he
carried her back to Scully.

Scully looked contrite. "Okay, we'll give her a day or two to
cool off."

"Good. Maybe Dzeh will cool off a little by then, too."

Assuming he didn't show up after dark tonight to kill them in
their sleep.

*   *   *

Klizzie made it out of her aunt's hut before her oversensitive
stomach threw back her evening meal. She retched into the
weeds, feeling sweaty, exhausted, and a little frightened. The
Shaman's tea had failed to put out the fire in her belly, or
ease the thunderstorm in her head. In truth, its spicy smell
made her feel even more queasy.

"Are you all right, Niece?" Ho-Ya approached her, her long
horsy face puckered with concern. She crouched beside Klizzie
and rubbed soothing circles between her shoulder blades while
Klizzie finished emptying her stomach onto the ground.

Klizzie gulped for air. Her skin prickled with fever. The
world seemed to spin around her. "Oh, Auntie...I do not know
what is wrong with me. Nothing will stay put in my stomach.
Whenever I rise to my feet, I am sick. It feels like a fire is
burning inside my chest."

"Did you visit the Shaman?"

Klizzie bowed her head in shame. The Shaman had said the
Spirits were punishing her for bringing the strangers to Owl
Clan. "He told me to drink more bergamot tea. But the smell
just makes me sicker."

Ho-Ya studied her for a moment. Suddenly a kindly smile split
her long face. "When was your last Moon Time, my Niece?"

Klizzie thought back. She was always regular, flowing with the
return of each new moon. But the moon was presently halfway to
full and she had not bled during its dark phase. "I-I have
missed a cycle," she said.

Thoughts of the strangers had been filling her head for weeks.
And now, with Gini missing and Klesh returned, she had new
troubles to keep her preoccupied. It was no wonder her moon
time had passed without notice.

"Come with me," Ho-Ya said as she helped Klizzie to her feet.
"Rise slowly. I think I know what is wrong with you."

"You do?" She felt confused. Her head ached and her stomach
churned.

"Of course." Ho-Ya steered her toward the shelter. "The
stranger from Eel Clan has left a gift inside you."

What was she talking about? Muhl-dar had given her no gift. "I
do not understand."

"A baby, Klizzie! You are pregnant."

Pregnant? With Muhl-dar's baby? That was impossible. He had
not performed the ritual exchange. They had not joined as
mates. There was no opportunity for a baby to pass from him
into her.

"Auntie, I do not think...I cannot...the Spirits..." What
should she say?

She couldn't admit the truth. Dzeh was already angry with her
for lying about Klesh. What would he think if he discovered
she had not fulfilled her duty with his Trading Partner? He
might accuse her of cursing the partnership. He could say his
falling out with Muhl-dar was her fault.

"It is possible I ate spoiled meat," she said by way of
explanation.

Ho-Ya chuckled. "No, Niece. I know the symptoms. I have had
six children and I was as sick as you are with each of them.
Before Chal was born, I was certain I would waste away to my
bones, he caused such pains in my belly."

Klizzie put her hand over her own aching stomach. If there was
a baby in there, it had not come from Muhl-dar. It must have
been given to her by Dzeh. The fertility idol he carved for
Hare Spirit must have convinced the god to finally answer his
prayers.

But how could she tell him this good news without divulging
the truth about Muhl-dar?

"Auntie, I do not know what to do--"

"Do not worry." Ho-Ya patted her arm, misunderstanding her
concern. "I have learned some ways to make the sickness
tolerable." She guided Klizzie into the hut and back into bed.
"You must eat small meals. No eggs, no meat, no fat! And do
not lie down after you eat. Drink lots of water. I will make
you some mint tea with honey right now. It will help ease your
stomach. And tomorrow morning, I will bring you your breakfast
in bed so you can eat it before you rise. Berries, greens and
lily buds. These will sit well with the baby inside you."

Klizzie snuggled beneath her blankets, stunned by this
unexpected turn of events. Long after Ho-Ya brought her a bowl
of steaming mint tea, she lay awake, trying to guess what Dzeh
would say when he learned she was finally carrying a child.

*   *   *

Although Scully had eaten her fill of turtle meat she took one
last bite, hoping to coax Gini to try some, too. The girl was
staring glassy-eyed at the fire, uninterested in food. Still
in a funk hours after Mulder's threat to take her home, she
leaned sullenly against him, tucked beneath his arm, her knees
drawn up inside his long turtleneck. Only her bare toes peeked
out beneath the hem, making her appear even smaller than she
was.

In one fist, she clutched his FBI badge, which he had given
her earlier. With the other she stubbornly held onto his pants
leg, unwilling to let him beyond her reach.

Throughout the afternoon and evening he had tried various
things to calm her fraught nerves. He helped her empty her
travel pack and rolled out her sleeping skin near theirs,
hoping this gesture would show her the cave was her home, too,
at least for the time being. He set the fertility idol on a
narrow shelf of rock, a place of honor above his and Scully's
bed, right beside the petroglyph he'd carved the previous day.
He praised her for the many useful items she'd brought and
they went together to fetch fresh water from the river in the
hollow gourd. They picked berries, which they brought back to
the cave, but she wasn't interested in actually eating any of
them. She obliged Mulder by popping two or three into her
mouth, but she chewed without apparent pleasure. All her
former exuberance had completely vanished.

Remembering how much she'd enjoyed Mulder's binoculars, Scully
suggested he let her explore the contents of his jacket
pockets. This activity was moderately successful. Gini spent
the better part of an hour crouched on the cave floor,
solemnly examining everything she pulled out of his coat. His
cell phone piqued her interest, particularly after he turned
it on to demonstrate its different musical tones, but even
when he let her try it, her mood was restrained. She was not
the Chatty Cathy she'd been when she first arrived.

In the end it was his FBI badge that intrigued her the most.
She scrutinized the photo ID for quite some time. She was
still clinging to it almost two hours later, while he held her
and recited Dr. Seuss rhymes.

"So Horton stopped splashing. He looked toward the sound.
'That's funny,' thought Horton. 'There's no one around.'"

Muted by the sputter of burning wood, his voice was pleasantly
hypnotic, a steady monotone, as velvety smooth as the fire's
golden glow. Scully found it peaceful and hoped Gini did, too.

"Then he heard it again!" he said, putting almost no emphasis
on Seuss' exclamation. He gently tugged one of Gini's shiny
pigtails and smiled when she looked up at him.

After her bath, she had allowed Scully to comb and braid her
long, tangled hair. One snarl had been so knotted Scully
decided to cut it out with the knife rather than yank
painfully at it. The result was a cowlick that sprouted like a
whiskbroom from the mid-point of her left pigtail.
 
"Just a very faint yelp, as if some tiny person were calling
for help," he continued.

A tentative smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. His
storytelling was apparently easing her fears.

It didn't seem to matter that she couldn't understand his
words. She listened intently, and now tried repeating his last
phrase.

"Kawl-ing for hel-lep?"

"Like this..." Mulder took a deep breath and cupped his hands
around his mouth, megaphone style, as if he intended to shout
at the top of his lungs. Scully braced herself for a loud
bellow, but he surprised her when he whispered "hellllllp" in
the faintest voice possible.

Gini giggled.

"You try it," he said, encouraging her to parrot him by
demonstrating his quiet cry once again.

She set down his badge to pose with her hands on either side
of her mouth the way he had done. "Hellll-lep," she whispered.

He nodded his approval. "'I'll *hellll-lep* you,'" he mimicked
her Clan accent, "said Horton. 'But where are you? Where?' He
looked and he looked. He could see nothing there but a small
speck of dust blowing just through the air."

Gini leaned again into his loose embrace. She no longer
gripped his ID or his pants leg. Her eyes began to droop and
her body relaxed as his honeyed cadence lulled her toward
sleep.

Scully was impressed by his patience with the girl. He would
make a good father, despite his fears to the contrary.

She expected he would make a good husband, too. She just
needed to give him a fair chance by being more forthright with
her feelings. No more "I'm fines," whenever he asked about her
well-being. She needed to be honest, so that he could respond
with equal honesty.

"What made you pick that particular story?" she asked when he
finished his recitation. Gini was fast asleep against him.

"I dunno. I guess I've always seen a parallel between 'Horton
Hears a Who' and the search for extraterrestrials."

I should have known, she thought. "How is that?"

"For one thing, Horton hears the Who because he has this pair
of reeeeally big ears," he teased, "not unlike the satellites
used to listen for signals from outer space."

"That's a stretch, don't you think?"

"Maybe." He shifted Gini into his arms and rose to his feet,
taking care not to wake her.

Scully stood, too, and crossed the cave to straighten the
girl's sleeping skins.

"Thanks," Mulder said, before laying Gini on the furs. He
retrieved his jacket to cover her. After tucking the coat
around her shoulders, he snagged Scully's hand and led her to
the front of the cave, where they sat facing the stars, their
backs to the fire, far enough from Gini so as not to disturb
her while they talked. "Could be I like the story because Jane
Kangaroo reminds me of you," he said, picking up their
conversation where they'd left off.

"How am I like Jane Kangaroo?"

"She denounced the possibility of people living on a dust
speck because she didn't believe people that size could exist.
In other words, she was unwilling to believe what she couldn't
see with her own eyes." He leaned over and kissed the tip of
her nose.

God, she loved this new, easy intimacy with him. She returned
his kiss. "I guess that makes you Horton," she said against
his lips.

He chuckled and drew her into a one-armed embrace. "None of
his fellow animals were willing to accept his beliefs. Story
of my life, wouldn't you say?"

She nodded. "Too bad aliens don't communicate with Who-Scopes.
Maybe they could convince us non-believers, too."

"Mm...that's interesting." He turned to gaze to the night sky.

"It was a joke."

"I know, but think about it. If intelligent beings elsewhere
in the galaxy wanted us to hear them, they would need to send
a signal using a medium we could hear, at a frequency that
we're listening to. It would have to be unique compared to any
natural background signals, like static or naturally occurring
radio waves. And the signal would have to be powerful enough
for us to detect it."

"And your point is?"

He shrugged. "Just talkin' out loud, wondering what it might
take to contact someone far, far away."

"Like 10,000 years in the future?"

"Yeah, kinda like that."

"More than a Who-Scope and a pair of reeeeally big ears, I'm
afraid."

When he turned to smile at her, she leaned in and kissed him
again.

*   *   *

HILL AIR FORCE BASE
COMPUTER LAB, HANGAR 19
MAY 14, 1998
7:29 AM

"What are you doing?" Lisa asked. She rolled her chair next to
Jason's and sat down.

With the stroke of a key, he initiated a diagnostic, setting
his time model into motion. Then he lowered his voice so the
guards outside the lab door wouldn't overhear his next words.
"I'm trying to find those missing agents."

"You think they're the cause of this?" She pointed at the
disturbance on the computer screen.

"Who else? Agent Mulder came here because he knew about the
old man's attempt to destroy my work."

Jason still couldn't bring himself to refer to the old man as
"me."

It was Mulder who had first figured out the truth about the
old man's identity. Apparently the agent and his partner were
still working on the case.

And now they were somewhere in the past, causing a progressive
disintegration to the continuum.

"We have to find them," he said.

"How?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"Can we bring them back?"

"In theory. We have to open another hole."

"The field can't be manipulated easily. How are you going to
control it? We could end up making things worse."

She didn't realize things couldn't get worse.

"I'll find a way."

She watched him intently. "Maybe we should just leave them
where they are."

"We can't. Their presence in the past is causing increasing
instability in the continuum. The longer they're there, the
more volatile the time field becomes." He pointed to the
growing perforations in the model. "If we don't get them out,
the continuum will eventually disintegrate." He turned to
stare at her. "And time as we know it will end."

This news clearly shocked her. "How long before that happens?"

"I don't know. It's possible we might start feeling the
effects soon."

She blinked in surprise. "In what way?"

"Flashbacks in reverse, glimpses of the future. It'll be like
stirring a pot of soup, mixing past, present and future into a
jumble of confusing moments. Our lifetimes will cease to
progress linearly."

She stood and began to pace. He hoped she wasn't about to
panic and go running to Beck.

Turning his chair to face her, he reached out and grabbed her
hand as she walked past. "It'll be okay," he said, squeezing
her fingers. "We need to stay calm. Focus on solving the
problem. You're good at that. Help me."

When she nodded he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He released her hand and turned his attention back to the
monitor.

"Jason, why do you think Agent Mulder came here?"

"I don't know." He watched the model writhe. "But I'm betting
he wishes he'd never left Washington."

*   *   *

LATE PLEISTOCENE
JUNE 29, 10:19 PM

Mulder stoked the fire with two knotty pieces of sun-bleached
tree roots, driftwood smoothed by the river and thick enough
to burn throughout the night. Sparks floated from the mouth of
the cave like fireflies when he disturbed the coals. They
spiraled toward the moon and he watched them until they became
lost against the backdrop of stars.

In the southern sky Ophiuchus, the celestial Serpent Holder,
stood upright on the horizon; the snake in his fists appeared
to be climbing out of the trees. Above him, Hercules faced his
old enemy, blocked as always from Virgo and crowded by the
Dragon to the north. The hero's struggle was eternal. God had
placed him in an untenable situation, one he could neither win
nor lose. He could only stand bravely, prepared to fight.

Behind Mulder, the cave glowed with the flicker of fire. Gini
slept in its warm circle of light, cushioned by furs and
curled on her side beneath his jacket. A few feet away Scully
waited for him on the larger sleeping skin. Even without
looking at her, he knew she watched him. It was a familiar
feeling, her eyes on his back. Tonight her guardianship
comforted him more than ever. Her recent confession of love
let him know her true feelings. Amazingly, she'd agreed to
marry him. And this was his advantage over Hercules. Unlike
the solitary hero, he would not be facing his fears alone.
Scully's declaration had filled him with unprecedented hope
and knowing she wanted to become his wife gave him newfound
courage, bravado enough to battle a lifetime of ferocious
serpents.

He felt a sudden urge to hold her, but before retiring to
their bed, he went to check on Gini.

The girl appeared lost on her island of fur, cloaked by his
jacket. Her small fingers, loosely curved and motionless
beneath her chin, peeked out from the rolled sleeves of his
turtleneck. He adjusted the coat over her shoulders, then
palmed the crown of her head, giving her hair a gentle stroke
goodnight.

She stirred but didn't open her eyes.

Satisfied that she was fine, he crossed the cave to Scully,
lowered himself onto the furs and gathered her lovingly into
his arms.

"Is she asleep?" Scully whispered, snuggling closer.

"Mm hm." He kissed the curve of her brow.

Domestic bliss, indeed. This simple cave felt like a haven,
and the valley an oasis. The most luxurious lodgings in the
modern world couldn't hold a candle to this place. Contentment
rolled over him like the fire's welcome heat, despite his
worries about Dzeh. He held the woman he loved in his arms,
while their unexpected foster child slept soundly nearby. For
the time being, they were well fed and secure, and an
unfamiliar sense of peace settled into his heart as he began
to experience the pleasure of family life for the first time
in years.

Gini was not his child, of course, nor a substitute for his
lost sister, but her arrival seemed to answer a need in him.
Although she carried the genes of strangers, he felt
enormously protective of her, much as he did of Scully, and
was willing to take on the task of caring for her.

It was possible he would fail. Gini might become injured or
ill or die, despite his best efforts, but clearly he had no
choice but to try his best. To be honest, he didn't really
want another choice. Right now, this was what he wanted:
Scully and Gini, under the same stone roof, within arm's
reach, and for the time being, safe from harm.

He was beginning to understand what Scully meant by the
"wrong" reasons for fatherhood. Yesterday, he'd agreed to
father her children because he'd wanted to tie himself to her.
But today he grasped that a child was more than a tether
between two people; she could be desirable for herself, not
for what she brought to her parents.

Was this the true meaning of commitment that Diana had spoken
about?

Damn, if she hadn't turned out to be right.

Scully nestled against his chest. He buried his nose in her
hair. God, she smelled good. If Gini wasn't just a few feet
away, he would take her again. He would--

"Muhl-dar?" A soft voice behind him.

He rolled over to find Gini standing beside the bed looking
frightened.

Had she heard something? Was Dzeh outside?

"What is it? Bad dream?" he asked.

He doubted she could translate his questions literally, but
she did seem to grasp his sympathetic tone because two fat
tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"No Than-zie tkoh," she said, sniffling. "No Dzeh."

So that was it. She was still worried about him taking her
home.

"No Than-zie tkoh. No Dzeh," he assured her.

She didn't look convinced.

"You wanna sleep with us?" He pointed to the bed, indicating
she could join them if she wanted to.

Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she nodded and crawled between
them. Scully immediately offered her the harbor of her arms
and the girl quickly nestled into her embrace.

Scully peered over the top of her head and pinned Mulder with
a stern look.

"You shouldn't give her the impression we won't be taking her
back. We could vanish from here without warning, the same way
we arrived. We need to return her to her tribe as soon as
possible."

He reached for Scully's hand and their fingers intertwined in
the dark. The danger was real, he knew. Even if they didn't
suddenly disappear into another time, they were still subject
to the strange effects of accelerated aging and regression. In
another month or two he might actually be younger than Gini,
while Scully would become an old woman. They'd be defenseless.
It was wrong to encourage the girl's dependency on them.

With regret he felt his short-lived fantasy of family life
slipping away. "We will," he promised.

"When?"

"A day or two."

"Mulder--"

"Give her some time, Scully." Give *me* some time, he thought.

She searched his face. "I'm afraid time is the one thing we
don't have."

x-x-x-x-x-x

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

An enormous beaver crossed the swimming hole each sunrise and
sunset, nosing logs downstream to its dam. Four hundred and
fifty pounds if it was an ounce, the oversized rodent was
eight feet long and resembled a black bear more than one of
its own 20th Century descendants. It didn't have a wide flat
tail like a modern beaver, but it was an agile swimmer. And
with six-inch-long incisors, it was no slouch at cutting
trees.

Mulder decided to hunt and kill the beaver while Scully and
Gini were upstream foraging for breakfast. He figured one
well-placed spear would do the trick, and then they'd be
feasting on flank steaks, tenderloins and T-bones for a
week...uh, assuming beavers had all those parts.

Hell, even if the oversized animal turned out to be inedible,
its hide would make a warm sleeping skin, or a couple of
decent winter coats. And a few logs from its dam would go a
long way toward building a smokehouse.

The beaver's dam was an astonishing thirty-five to forty feet
long. Made of mud, brush and logs -- some as thick as a man's
waist -- it bisected the river, effectively blocking its flow
and creating a deep, wide pond on the upstream side. Mulder
climbed out onto its uneven surface with some difficulty and
took up a position at the midpoint, where he would be able to
throw his spear at the beaver as it made its morning run.

Sure enough, it arrived right on schedule, guiding a freshly
fallen tree toward the dam with its nose.

Closer...closer, Mulder silently urged, raising his spear
shoulder high and gripping the mud-covered timbers with his
toes.

The beaver swam toward him, oblivious to the danger. If it
could see him with those beady little eyes, it didn't seem
perturbed to find him standing atop its weir, armed with a
spear and wearing nothing but his lucky boxers.

"Your hairy ass is mine," he mumbled under his breath.

Jesus, the thing was the size of a fucking Volkswagen.

Steady...steady...

Mulder squinted against the glare of early morning sun and
fine-tuned the angle of his spear, thankful for its new stone
tip.

The spearhead came courtesy of Gini. She'd brought a nice
selection of goodies with her from Turkey Lake: scrapers,
flints, fishhooks and line...her backpack had been chock full
of useful items. He'd appropriated a yard of her fishing line
to secure the spearhead to a seven-foot-long shaft, making a
formidable weapon, much better than that clumsy driftwood club
he'd used to beat the snapping turtle into submission two days
ago.

Visions of Scully and Gini dressed in matching beaver-skin
coats boosted Mulder's courage and fueled his determination to
nail the unsuspecting animal. He pictured them gnawing happily
on its huge spareribs while complimenting his impressive
hunting prowess for the gazillionth time.

The beaver suddenly stopped paddling. It lifted its flat head
to sniff the air. Could it smell him from ten yards away?

Small eyes blinking, it floated slowly into range, carried by
the current.

Mulder waited, itching to throw his spear.

Come on, you ugly...

The beaver appeared to be staring straight at him.

It was now or never. Mulder hurled the spear. It made a quiet
whooshing sound as it sailed through the air. The trajectory
was perfect, the speed more than adequate. Its point sank
deeply into the beaver's humped back with a satisfying thud.

The surprised beaver reacted by diving underwater,
disappearing beneath the surface and taking Mulder's spear
with it.

"Shit." He was going to lose the animal *and* his new
spearhead.

His instinct was to dive in after it, but a breakwater of logs
bristled beneath the river's surface, blocking his way. So he
scrambled over the edge, lowering himself feet-first into the
water.

The river was deep and startlingly cold. Mulder gasped when he
sank up to his armpits. Gooseflesh sprouted along his
shoulders, and his testicles felt as if they were being
squeezed in an icy fist. Not wanting to linger, he filled his
lungs with air and ducked beneath the surface.

The water was crystal clear, allowing him to see all the way
to the toe of the dam, where whip-like plants swayed in the
current, anchored to the logs. A blood trail was blossoming
out of one shadowy tunnel where two trees crossed each other.
He swam toward it, using branches as handholds to drag himself
quickly into the crimson cloud.

Ten feet ahead, the pale shaft of his spear disappeared behind
a jumble of timbers. He plowed after it, angling more deeply
into the dam. Gaining on his target, he came close enough to
reach out and grasp the spear's butt end. The beaver lurched
forward, jerking the shaft from his grip before veering into a
side tunnel. Mulder gave chase, confident he could easily fit
into any crevice that could accommodate the massive rodent. A
trickle of air bubbles escaped the beaver's nose, keeping
Mulder oriented as he insinuated himself between timbers,
unwilling to abandon his pursuit.

Two powerful strokes brought him within range again. He
grabbed the spear and this time managed to hang on when the
beaver started thrashing. It pulled him forward, deeper into
the labyrinth of logs, scraping his unprotected ribs against
clawed branches. Pain blazed along his right side from armpit
to hip.

The beaver's strength was astonishing and Mulder worried he
would lose his hold, or dislocate a shoulder. He was pitched
into another rough-barked tree when the beaver flailed again.
His lungs began to call for air. Time was running out.

He braced his feet against a log. Using the leverage to propel
himself forward, he embedded the weapon solidly into the
animal's back and lungs.

Blood gushed from the wound and the beaver ceased its violent
struggle. Although not dead, it floundered as its strength
ebbed.

Mulder latched onto a fistful of its long fur and dragged it
backward out of the logjam. His lungs hitched as he grew more
desperate for air.

Towing the oversized animal was no easy task, especially given
his oxygen-deprived state. He felt light-headed. His chest
ached to take a breath.

He kicked harder, trying to increase his speed. His pulse
hammered inside his ears. Sunlight and blue sky guided him,
becoming brighter as he rose. Stale air leached from his lungs
in a mass of bubbles that blinded him as they swirled past his
face.

*Don't breathe.*

Damn it, he wasn't going to make it.

He considered releasing his hold on the beaver.

*Don't breathe.*

Only a few strokes to go.

Hang on...hang on…don't breathe...

Finally he punched through the surface and gasped for air. His
lungs filled. He swallowed a mouthful of water and coughed,
but he was okay. Thank you Jesus! He'd made it...with the
beaver *and* his spear.

Panting, blinking water from his eyes, he hooked one rubbery
arm over a branch to steady himself while he caught his
breath.

After a minute, his heart stopped its awful pounding and he
gave the beaver a shake...turned it so that he could stare
into its dull eyes...decided it was truly dead.

Fingers gone numb, limbs quaking with fatigue, he began
swimming towards the shore, shoving the carcass ahead of him,
wrestling it with elbows and shoulders and even the crown of
his head. By the time he finally beached it, he was covered
with mud, bark and blood...some his own.

Muscles trembling from overexertion, he rose on unsteady legs
to yank the spear from the beaver's lifeless body. Pride
surged through him as he pulled the weapon free, giving him
the strength to stagger up the bank onto dry land. Dropping to
his knees in the grass, he felt exhausted but indomitable.
He'd done what he'd set out to do. And he couldn't wait to see
Scully and Gini's expressions when they saw what he'd brought
home for breakfast.

*   *   *

Dzeh took no notice of the sun's daily journey, nor did he
discern the change of terrain from red rock cliffs to open
grassland to wooded hills as he and his kinsmen traveled
steadily northward. His thoughts were focused on Gini, and his
regrets grew heavier with each step toward home.

He tried to imagine how he might have conducted himself
differently on that last awful day with his sister,
scrutinizing his every action, word and decision. But no
matter how often he reviewed it, he could think of nothing
he'd done that contradicted Clan ways. He'd followed every
rule, acted precisely as any reasonable clansman would act,
and still Gini had run away from home -- away from *him* -- to
chase after a couple of depraved chindis. She'd left behind a
loving family to follow strangers.

Why would she do such a thing?

Before coming to Turkey Lake -- before the arrival of Muhl-dar
and Day-nuh -- Gini had been a reasonably obedient girl. At
times headstrong and independent, but not intolerably so.
Usually she was helpful and polite, eager to contribute to the
welfare of the Clan, giving no argument when performing
everyday tasks like butchering meat, preparing hides, or
collecting firewood. Truly, she did whatever he or Klizzie
asked, with very little complaint.

Except when it came to the matter of finding her a mate. For
some unfathomable reason she'd balked at being Promised. The
mere mention of it had caused her to run from Lin's shelter
the day of the yea-go match as if chased by a saber-toothed
cat. Later he'd had to force her to attend her friend's
Joining Ceremony, dragging her against her will while she
screeched and struggled to be let go.

The members of four clans witnessed her willful disrespect.
They were clearly appalled by her outburst and expected him to
put an end to it.

So he'd struck her.

What else could he have done?

It was true he'd hit her more forcefully than he'd intended.
With every passing heartbeat he wished he had not. She was
just a small girl and he a full-grown hunter and he could
understand how his foul temper might have frightened her. But
was one slap cause to run away? Certainly she knew he loved
her. He'd never struck her before -- not even once -- although
it was within his right to do so. Men were always hitting
their children to maintain peace at their hearths.

Perhaps he should have been stricter with her from the start.
If he'd disciplined her more frequently, instead of allowing
her to go her own way for so many seasons, maybe she would
have grown used to it, the way other children seemed to. Then
she might not have overreacted to his reprimand. And she would
be alive now, safe at his hearth.

Preoccupied by his regret, Dzeh failed to notice the hunters
had stopped at the edge of the swamp, and he bumped into Chal,
startling them both.

"Why are we stopping?" he grumbled.

This dark and inhospitable quagmire was not a place to linger.
The swamp bristled with dead trees, gray and naked as corpses,
spearing the sky as far as the eye could see. Blowdowns
crisscrossed the murky lowland, uprooted by violent storms,
fallen victim to age and rot. Rancid air snaked into Dzeh's
nostrils and down his throat like a rattler looking for
respite in the shadows.

Chal pointed to the ground, directing his attention to Gini's
small footprints, still visible in the deep mud.

Dzeh wondered again why she had left the others, only to turn
back and follow them. Her motives were as difficult to discern
as doves in fog.

"I should have asked," he mumbled.

Lin's brow wrinkled with concern. "Asked what, Nephew?"

"Asked Gini why she objected to being Joined." He had
discounted his sister's distress without ever learning its
cause, and now she was dead and his lack of understanding
weighed heavily on his heart.

"Gini did not want to be Joined?" Chal's eyes rounded with
surprise.

"That is absurd," Wol-la-chee said, frowning. "Why would a
girl not want to be Joined?"

Dzeh shook his head. He could think of no logical reason.
Taking a mate and having children were desirable, necessary
things. There was no alternative. Life without family was
impossible. No one, not even a seasoned hunter, could survive
for long alone.

"Perhaps..." Chal's voice grew thin, losing its strength. He
cleared his throat and began again. "Perhaps she was afraid."

"Afraid?" Lin blinked in astonishment.

"Of what?" Wol-la-chee asked.

The boy squared his slim shoulders and faced the hunters.
Lifting his chin, he said, "Maybe it is not easy to be sent
away from kin and made to live with strangers."

Dzeh shook his head, trying to dislodge the boy's perplexing
words from his ears. "All girls must move away when they take
mates," he said.

"It is the Clan way," said Wol-la-chee.

"It is the manner in which these things have always been
done," Lin agreed.

"Yes, but..." -- Chal licked dry lips -- "maybe...the old way
is not the best way." He tightened his fists, stilling his
shaking hands, and locked determined eyes with Dzeh. "Perhaps
some rules need to be reconsidered."

"You are suggesting we change what is custom?" Dzeh scowled at
him.

Clan traditions came from the Spirits and could not be altered
without their divine guidance and blessing. It was not up to
men to say, "We will no longer send girls away when they are
Joined." Only the Spirits could determine such things and
their rules were made for the good of everyone; going against
them would bring misfortune to all. If a girl was frightened
by the prospect of moving to a new clan, she should simply
pray to the Spirits to give her more courage.

"This boy knows nothing," Wol-la-chee announced with a wave of
dismissal. "He is arrogant to think we should amend the
Spirits' ways."

Lin placed a large, gnarled hand on Chal's recently tattooed
shoulder and studied the boy's beardless face. "You have a
season or two yet before you are wise to the ways of the
Spirits, young man. Until then, it is best that you do not
question their decisions."

Chal did not back down or avert his earnest, almond-eyed gaze.
"Even if their decisions are unsatisfactory?"

Wol-la-chee hissed at the boy's disrespect. Lin quieted them
both with an upraised hand. "There is nothing for us to decide
here. We still have a full day's hike before we are back with
our families. Let us not waste the daylight."

With that, he headed north for Turkey Lake. Wol-la-chee fell
immediately into step behind him. After a moment, Chal
followed, too, with his head hanging. But Dzeh lingered, his
eyes fastened on Gini's small tracks.

He could feel the Spirits squabbling in his chest and their
quarrel frightened him. Most of their voices seemed to be in
agreement with Lin, Wol-la-chee and Clan tradition, yet a few
were casting spears of doubt at their arguments.

Dzeh had lived his entire life according to the customs of his
people, always knowing which actions were correct and which
were not. He had never before questioned the Clan's ways.

Until now. Now he felt confused. He wished he had not struck
Gini, even if doing so was the accepted way to chastise an
unruly child. He wished, too, that he had asked her why the
prospect of taking a mate had been so upsetting to her.

Dzeh took one final look at Gini's small footprints before he
turned to follow his kinsmen. Right or wrong, what was done
was already done. Gini was dead and he would not see her
again, not until he, too, passed into the World of Spirits.

*   *   *

Scully paused to readjust the pack that hung from her right
shoulder, while Gini skipped ahead. The girl's unraveling
braids bounced against her straight, narrow back and the
sleeves of Mulder's oversized shirt dangled loosely from her
short arms as she ran.  Scully smiled, glad Gini's energy and
enthusiasm had rebounded after Mulder's demonstration two days
ago. She'd even slept peaceably in her own bed last night.

This morning they were heading upstream to collect mushrooms,
fresh greens and "a-ye-shi" -- duck eggs -- along the
riverbank. The sun was already warming the post-dawn air,
causing vapor to rise from the water. It gilded the entire
valley in blonde light, and the cliffs appeared peach-colored,
the sky rose-hued. Fluttering tree leaves sparkled with
silvery dew.

Again Scully was struck by the beauty of this place. The river
meandered serenely through the flat-bottomed basin, hemmed by
shade trees and sweet smelling flower blossoms. Herds of
animals grazed on long grasses or drank their fill along the
winding shores. Birds celebrated the sunrise with a trill that
cheered her in a way she wouldn't have thought possible given
the precariousness of their situation.

Up ahead, Gini stopped to pluck a bright orange bud from a
long-stemmed lily. She popped it into her mouth, then gathered
a few more before hiking upstream at a more leisurely pace.

They had left the cave as the first rays of sunlight were
cresting the cliffs, and in less than an hour they had
collected enough food for the entire day. Scully decided to
extend their hunting expedition a little longer; she wanted to
learn as much as possible about edible plants from Gini before
the girl returned to her family. She and Mulder would soon be
fending for themselves, and everything she learned now could
help them survive on their own later.

She stooped to pick a toadstool from a rotting tree stump.
Holding it aloft, she called to Gini, "Is this one okay?"

Gini ran back to her, a serious expression on her face. One
glance at the mushroom and she shook her head. "No. Do-ya-sho-
da. No good." Her accent hummed in her nose and her
pronunciation was flat and gravelly. Her croaking voice didn't
match her diminutive features and every time she spoke Scully
was taken a little by surprise.

"What'll happen if I eat it?" Scully pantomimed taking a bite.

Gini frowned and pointed out the toadstool's defining
characteristics and then, mimicking obvious body sounds, she
demonstrated quite clearly how it would make her sick.

Scully tossed the mushroom to the ground and waved the girl
upstream.

Gini's knowledge of Pleistocene flora didn't surprise Scully.
She remembered reading an article in one of her journals that
described a group of hunter/gatherers on the island of Mer in
the Torres Strait in Australia. The study had shown that even
very young Meriam children could quickly master the knowledge
and skills needed to engage in productive, adult activities --
like spear and line fishing -- as long as those activities
didn't require adult size and strength. Most of the children
were fishing by age six, and by age nine they'd become as good
at it as the adults. The children weren't as successful at
collecting shellfish, however, although it required very
little knowledge or skill. Apparently their size didn't allow
them to cover much ground, so they were ineffective at it.

It was logical that Gini, even at the tender age of seven or
eight, would have accumulated considerable knowledge about her
world, and be skilled at whatever survival techniques her size
permitted.

As the morning wore on, they stopped often to study one plant
or another. Sometimes Gini would pick and eat what she found,
or offer it to Scully, while other times she left the plants
alone, presumably to let them ripen. She cheerfully attempted
to explain her choices, or describe various methods of cooking
or practical uses, but Scully found it difficult to follow
most of her instructions.

For two days they'd been playing word games, exchanging a
multitude of phrases. She guessed Gini's vocabulary had grown
to more than four or five hundred English expressions. Scully
was not as adept at memorizing the tribe's language, so more
often than not, Gini used English to make herself understood.

"Who-neh?" she asked in her own language as they continued
their walk along the river. She pointed at the red cliffs to
the west and switched to English. "Wha'zat?"

"Cliffs," Scully answered.

"Kiffs."

"Close. Cliffs. Culliffs." She emphasized the L. "What do you
call them?"

"Tse-ye-chee."

"Tse-ye-chee?" Scully tried her best to pronounce the
expression and fix it firmly in her mind.

"Lanh. Yes."

Immediately Gini pointed to another object, a dark stone that
stood like a lone sentinel on the riverbank. "Wha'zat?"

"A tall black rock." Scully enunciated each word with care,
uncertain which aspect of the rock Gini wanted clarified.

"Bul-lak rok," Gini repeated, before giving Scully the tribe's
translation, "Tsa-zhin."

Many of Gini's words began with an unfamiliar "TS"
combination, making it difficult for Scully to differentiate
between them. Tse-e meant mosquito. Tsa-zhin meant rock, or
maybe black rock, or even tall black rock. Tsee...the cheese?
-- or something like that -- meant cliffs. Already she had
forgotten the precise pronunciation.

Gini glanced back the way they'd come and began to chew on the
cuff of her dangling sleeve. "Muhl-dar seep?" she asked
without releasing the fabric from her teeth.

"Probably not."

He'd been sleeping when they left -- Scully had hushed the
girl, hoping not to wake him -- but he was typically an early
riser and, no doubt, was up by now.

She tapped the girl's arm. "Don't chew your shirt, sweetie."

An embarrassed smile spread across Gini's face and she let the
sleeve drop. This wasn't her first reminder.

"Muhl-dar's sssirt." She had trouble pronouncing SHs and THs,
yet she managed her own tongue-twisting DLs, DZs, TKs and TSs
with ease.

"Yes, Mulder's shirt."

"Pretty." She patted the fabric that covered her flat chest.

Since she seemed cheery and relatively calm Scully decided
this might be an opportune time to broach the subject of
returning to Turkey Lake.

Keeping her voice light, she asked, "Gini, why did you leave
home?"

"Leaf?" The girl scanned the surrounding trees with a confused
look.

"No, not leaf. Leave. Why did you...?" How could she phrase it
so the girl would understand? She gestured at their
surroundings. "Why did you come here...to this valley, this
river?" She knew Gini understood the words for valley, river,
come, why, you. Surely she would put it all together. "Why did
you follow Mulder and me here?"

Gini's sleeve-covered fist lifted once again to her mouth. She
stopped herself before she actually took the fabric between
her teeth. "Bring...baby."

The carved bone idol. "Why else?"

"Elz?" She didn't understand.

Scully was hesitant to mention Dzeh, since his name had
triggered such an extreme reaction two days ago. Obviously he
was somehow involved in the girl's decision to run away.

Taking a less direct approach, she smiled and said, "I like
Klizzie."

Gini glanced nervously to the north. She bit her lower lip
instead of her sleeve.

Scully reached out and smoothed a few stray hairs from the
girl's worried face. "She braided my hair, put beads in it.
And gave me her pretty comb, too. Remember?"

Gini nodded but said nothing.

"She took good care of me when I was sick. She took care of
Mulder, too. That was kind of her, wasn't it?"

Still the girl didn't speak.

"I imagine she misses you a lot."

"Klizzie--" Gini stuffed the shirt cuff into her mouth. Tears
welled in her eyes.

"Sweetie, we can take you back to her if you--"

"No. No go Too-key Lake. Peese." Her body began to tremble.

Scully set down her travel pack and crouched in front of her.
Gently, she removed the cuff from the girl's mouth and rolled
the sleeve up to her wrist. Turning her attention to the other
sleeve, she rolled it up, too. Then she took both of Gini's
hands in hers. "Why don't you want to go back to Turkey Lake?"

"Tehi ah-na-sozi." Gini pulled at Scully's hands, urging her
to stand. "Yah-a-da-hal-yon-ih--"

"No, sweetie. First tell me why you don't want to go to Turkey
Lake." She spoke kindly but refused to budge. Reaching out to
stroke the faint bruise beside Gini's right eye, she asked,
"Are you afraid Dzeh will hurt you again?"

Gini lifted her hand to the bruise. "Hurt?"

Scully nodded. "Dzeh hurt you, didn't he?" She pointed to the
injury and then pantomimed a slow, left hook.

Gini didn't flinch. Her expression was one of bewilderment,
not alarm. Scully began to sense she might be on the wrong
track.

"Sit, please." She patted the ground beside her, then settled
cross-legged on the grass. Gini squatted beside her.

They were in a narrow clearing in full sun with an
unobstructed view of the river twenty feet away. The water
made a tinkling sound as it flowed south between gravel-lined
banks. A mother duck and her lone chick waddled along one
pebbled shore, searching for food among the wet stones.

Scully pointed to the birds. "See those ducks?"

"Dose duhks," Gini sounded out the new phrase.

The duckling wobbled after its mother, almost toppling in its
effort to keep up.

"Baby duhk run...um..." Gini waggled her head from side to
side to demonstrate the word she was looking for.

"Tippy?"

"Tip-pee."

"He reminds me of you, Gini."

The girl seemed to take offense at this. "Gini no run tip-
pee."

"No, I didn't mean that." Scully smiled. "He's following his
mother the same way you used to follow Klizzie."

Gini frowned and stared at the ground between her feet. "No
talk Klizzie."

"Is Klizzie your mother?" Scully was determined not to let the
subject drop. She suspected the girl was a blood relative of
Dzeh, not Klizzie, because Klizzie looked too young to have an
eight-year-old child, and Dzeh and Gini shared the same eye
color and slanting grin. It was possible he was the girl's
father by a former partner. Or he could be her brother, or a
cousin or uncle with a strong family resemblance.

"No muht-her," Gini said without a hint of self-pity.

"Your sister then? Or your aunt?"

"No...want...talk Klizzie! No want talk Dzeh, no want talk
Too-key Lake!" she said firmly.

"Gini, we have to talk about this."

"Why?" the girl whined. Fear peaked her brows and her chin
quivered. "Day-nuh no want Gini?" she asked, sounding
heartbroken.

"Sweetie..." Damn, how was she going to explain? She reached
out and placed her hand on Gini's back to gently rub circles
between her shoulder blades. "I'm not angry at you. You've
done nothing wrong."

"Gini...stay...here. 'Kay?"

"You can't stay. I'm sorry."

Frustration crumpled Gini's face. "Here...good," she said,
searching hard for the proper words, and staring up at Scully
with tear-filled eyes. "Day-nuh, Muhl-dar, Gini...ummm...ta-
bilh."

"Ta-bihl? I don't understand."

"Ta-bihl...ummm...means..." She pointed toward the two ducks.

Mother and baby?

Family.

"Dzeh and Klizzie are your family, sweetheart. Dzeh, Klizzie
and Gini ta-bihl."

"No, nooooo..."

Too upset to speak English, Gini rattled off her woes in her
own language. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she hiccupped
her way through her concerns. Scully recognized a few of her
words and phrases: go, Badger tribe, no, want, big...be-zonz?
Wasn't that the word Mulder said meant penis?

What the hell?

*   *   *

Gini was desperate to make Day-nuh understand. She would not
go back to Turkey Lake, but trying to remember the right
combination of Eel words to say so was impossible. The words
were difficult to pronounce and she didn't know enough of them
to express her thoughts. So she spoke in her own language, and
once she got started, her worries poured out of her like water
from a spring.

"I can not go back there, Day-nuh. Dzeh wants to send me away
to live with a boy in Badger Clan. He has already Promised me
to Chal, I think. I am so scared. I do not know Chal! I do not
want to be Joined with him or live with him. I am afraid he is
going to make me lay with him on his sleeping skins and it
will hurt because his be-zonz will grow too big to fit inside
me, just like that awful stallion with his mare--"

"Sweetie, sweetie, slow down," Day-nuh interrupted. Her voice
and manner were soothing and her concern was evident. She
asked several more unintelligible questions, something
about...Dzeh's penis?

"No, no Dzeh be-zonz," Gini said. What was Day-nuh talking
about? "*Chal's* be-zonz."

"Chal? Who is Chal?"

"Badger..." She didn't know the Eel word for boy. "Badger
man," she said instead, before switching back to her own
language. "I do not like him very much. He looks like a stork
and he is rude and mean."

Day-nuh shook her head, not understanding. "A-nah-neh...?" she
asked for clarification.

"A-nah-neh-dzin." Gini lowered her brows and grimaced, trying
to make her face look as fearsome as possible to convey the
nasty look Chal had given her on the day they first met.

Day-nuh's eyes widened as if she had been bitten by a
rattlesnake. Gini realized her impersonation of Chal was
perhaps unfair. He hadn't been *that* mean. But still, she
didn't like him and she didn't want to live with him or his
peculiar Badger Clan kin. She particularly didn't want to
share his bed or touch his disgusting be-zonz. Ugh!

Day-nuh reached out and wiped away her tears. "Gini, help me
understand. Explain again what's frightening you."

Although Gini couldn't translate the request word-for-word,
she'd learned enough over the past two days to know that Day-
nuh wanted a more precise explanation, even if it meant using
hand signals and a mix of Eel and Owl Clan words.

Gini did her best to detail Dzeh's plans to Join her with
Chal. She repeated the story about the dreadful stallion and
his frightened mare several times, too, until finally Day-
nuh's frown changed into a smile.

"What is so funny?" Gini asked in her own language, a little
hurt that Day-nuh was laughing at her troubles.

Day-nuh seemed to grasp this was serious talk and her face
grew more solemn. "Sorry," she said. Then she leaned forward
and embraced Gini.

It felt nice to be held in her arms, like being hugged by
Klizzie.

Suddenly Gini missed Klizzie with an intensity that made her
chest hurt. Tears filled her eyes again, and she hid them by
throwing her arms around Day-nuh's neck and burying her face
against her chest, trying to push away any thoughts of
Klizzie, hoping beyond hope that Day-nuh -- and Muhl-dar --
might someday love her as much as Klizzie had.

Day-nuh murmured more unrecognizable but reassuring words into
her ear, while rocking her and smoothing her hair.

They remained like that for many moments, until a faint call
came from the direction of the cave. Muhl-dar was shouting and
he sounded excited.

"Scully! Sculleee!" His voice echoed off the valley's rosy
cliffs.

Day-nuh rose to her feet and pulled Gini up after her. "Let's
go see what he wants."

*   *   *

HILL AIR FORCE BASE
COMPUTER LAB, HANGAR 19
MAY 14, 1998
8:02 AM

Beck dropped the faded Black Sox cap onto Nichols' keyboard.
"Does that mean what I think it means?"

Nichols leaned back in his chair to look up at him with mock-
innocence. His hands slid into his lap without touching the
hat. "I don't know, Colonel. What do you think it means?"

Lisa Ianelli was sitting in her usual place beside Nichols. A
3-dimensional computer model undulated on the monitor in front
of them, disintegrating as it writhed. Beck recognized the
image as a diagnostic of last night's test. It clearly showed
a malfunction had occurred while the aircraft was operating in
gravity pulse mode.

"Just answer the question," he said through gritted teeth.

Nichols shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by Beck's threatening
tone. Ianelli, on the other hand, appeared nervous...and
confused. She picked up the hat. "I don't understand. What's
this got to do with us or our work?"

Before Beck could answer, Nichols sighed loudly and said, "The
Colonel thinks it's a clue to the whereabouts of the missing
agents. Isn't that right, Colonel?"

That was precisely what he thought. Security had searched
every square inch of the Base and had come up empty
handed...except for the ball cap.

"The Baltimore Black Sox haven't played ball since 1934. I
checked it myself," Beck said.

"So? It's a reproduction."

"Does it look new to you?"

Nichols shrugged again. "Maybe someone here at Hill collects
baseball memorabilia."

"My men deny ever seeing it before."

"So it belongs to the missing agents. That doesn't necessarily
connect it to last night's test...at least not in the way
you're implying."

"It does when you add to it the evidence on that computer
screen." Beck nodded at the monitor.

Ianelli glanced at the undulating image, then down at the hat
in her hands. "You think the missing agents went back in time
to--"

"To the 1930s, yes, I do," Beck finished for her. "I think the
anti-gravity propulsion system caused a warp during last
night's test. Agents Mulder and Scully got caught in that
warp. That model..." -- he nodded at the screen again --
"proves it."

He was guessing a sudden shift in the craft's trajectory
created the distortion, and that the agents had been in close
proximity to the AGPS when it malfunctioned, bending time, and
throwing them several decades into the past, while depositing
the cap in the present.

"I want you to find those agents," Beck ordered, "and bring
them back. ASAP."

"Suppose they're dead."

"If they were dead, the model wouldn't be reacting like that."
Beck jabbed a finger at the swirls on the computer screen.
There was no doubt the agents were still alive and their
presence in the past was affecting the stability of the
continuum.

Nichols eyeballed the model, his expression guarded. A twinge
in Beck's gut warned him that Nichols knew more than he was
saying.

"Open a new hole and haul them back," Beck ordered.

"It's not that easy."

"Make it happen...*before* General Kaback gets here."

Nichols leaned back in his chair while continuing to study the
model. "It might be possible to open a small hole, to allow
the transfer of electronic data."

"Electronic data? I want those agents, not a fucking email."

"The data would just be a test...to ensure stabilization of
the warp before we actually try to retrieve the agents. As a
matter of fact, we could use the data to send them a message,
notify them of our intentions, make sure they stay in one
place long enough for us to pinpoint them and grab them."

"A message?" Ianelli sounded incredulous. "To what? Their cell
phones?"

To Beck's surprise, Nichols nodded at her suggestion.
"Actually, that would work perfectly."

Was such a thing even technologically possible?

Beck knew that Mulder and Scully carried FBI issued cell
phones; he'd seen their numbers listed in Captain Linden's
background report. But would the agents have their phones
charged and turned on? More importantly, would a cell phone
work in 1930?

"Do it," he said. "Rerun last night's test, recreate the
distortion. Make it look routine. I want this done quietly."

Nichols no longer appeared to be listening. He was already
punching keys, altering the model's makeup.

"Kaback's due at 1100," Beck reminded him. "Do whatever you
need to do before then."

Nichols nodded absently.

Beck wasn't certain he grasped the seriousness of the
situation. "We're running out of time, Nichols."

The scientist swiveled in his chair. "Interesting choice of
words, Colonel."

*   *   *

LATE PLEISTOCENE
JULY 1, 10:19 AM

Gini gutted the beaver, while Mulder and Scully watched. They
sat a few feet away, leaning comfortably against a fallen tree
in a grassy clearing approximately ten yards from where Mulder
had beached the animal. The tree was without branches or bark,
having lost them decades ago to wind and weather. Its thick
trunk was bleached silver-gray by the sun, and it felt smooth
and warm against Mulder's sore, bare back.

It surprised him how happily Gini was going about her grisly
task. She chattered as she slit the beaver from gullet to
groin, carefully cutting around its genitals and anus without
penetrating the bowel, which he supposed was to prevent
contamination of the meat. She used one of her small stone
blades, brought from Turkey Lake, having declined his offer of
the pocketknife. She was evidently more comfortable with her
own familiar tools.

Using bare hands, she scooped entrails from the gaping body,
emptying the cavity onto the grass. She pointed to the growing
pile of organs and rattled off a string of what sounded like
questions or commands.

"What's she saying?" he asked, not understanding a single
word.

"I didn't get all of it, but 'a-chi' means intestines and
'cha' means 'beaver.' I think she wants to know if we plan to
use the entrails," Scully said, rising to her feet to inspect
the gore. "You really should make an effort to learn her
language, Mulder."

"I'm not good at languages."

"With your photographic memory?"

"Doesn't seem to help. You should hear my Spanish. It's
embarrassing. 'Mi nalga se confunde fácilmente.'"

She laughed. "You just said, 'My rump is easily confused.'"

"Did I?" He grinned at his mistake. "Oh, well, considering how
often I have my head up my ass, that's not too far off the
mark, actually. But what I meant to say was 'My brain is
easily confused.' Guess I proved my point."

"'Brain' is 'cerebro,' not 'nalga.'"

"'Patata,' pa-tay-ta. The Vineyard's a long way from the
Mexican border, San Diego Girl."

Bending over the bloody entrails, she frowned. "How is it you
were able to remember the tribe's words for the male and
female genitalia without any trouble?"

"Easy...that's a guy thing."

She rummaged through the guts and retrieved what looked to him
to be the liver.

"You interested in eating this?" she asked, holding it up. It
draped heavily over her arm, dark, slimy and wholly
unappetizing.

His throat closed and his stomach rebelled. "Uh...no, thanks."

To avoid watching her pick through the gore, he inspected the
injury on his ribs. The scrape he'd received underwater was
beginning to sting like hell. It was raw and inflamed looking.
Carefully, he pulled a long sliver from the wound.

"I was kind of hoping we wouldn't be here long enough to make
learning cavemanese a necessity," he said, letting the bloody
splinter drop to the ground.

"Do you have something more pressing to do?" She abandoned the
beaver's innards to come inspect his wound. "You should rinse
that."

"It's fine." To be honest, he felt too tired to rise to his
feet and traipse all the way down to the river.

"Mulder..." Her warning tone.

"Give me a few minutes," he wheedled. "I wanna see how Gini
skins this thing."

Gini was already separating the hide from the carcass, cutting
and tugging, while taking care not to puncture it. With
Scully's help she removed the entire skin in about twenty
minutes. Mulder was content to simply sit and watch them. The
work appeared to be strenuous. Sweat was slicking their faces
by the time they laid the hide on the grass -- sans head -- in
one unbroken piece.

Opened flat, it was wider than Gini was tall. Gore still clung
to its inner surface, making it too unwieldy for Scully and
Gini to lift on their own.

"Muhl-dar na-e-lahi?" Gini pointed to the skin and pantomimed
draping it over the fallen tree.

"Come on, Mulder. Help us."

Reluctantly, and with an exaggerated groan, he rose to his
feet to help them lift the pelt into position over the log.
Once it was where they wanted it, Gini crouched beside it and
immediately began scraping off a layer of sticky membrane with
her crescent-shaped blade. She held the stone knife at a
ninety-degree angle while she methodically removed fat from
the pelt, until the underlying pores began to appear.

While she worked on the hide, Scully butchered the beaver,
using Mulder's knife. Mulder returned to his comfortable
position beside the log.

"Too bad we don't have some way to preserve all that meat," he
said.

"The tribe had a smokehouse." Scully sliced through what was
once a muscular thigh, trimming away several perfect steaks.
"Maybe we could build one, too."

"Maybe." Without tools it would be difficult to build
anything. He plucked a blade of grass and stuck it between his
teeth. "If we had another knife, I could help you cut that
up," he said, glad there was only one.

"You killed it, I can clean it. Nice job, by the way, Tarzan."

She glanced at him and smiled. Her praise lessened the ache in
his limbs.

Half an hour later, Scully and Gini were still cutting and
scraping. Apparently ready for a break, Gini rose to search
through the pile of guts. To Mulder's disgust, she dug out the
heart, from which she took a big, bloody bite. She chewed with
obvious relish and swallowed.

"Mmmmm. Gud!" she said, wiping gore from her lips onto the
back of her hand.

"Jesus." Mulder's gag reflex kicked in and he felt his gorge
rise. He looked to Scully to see if she was going to object.

Instead she simply shrugged. "It can't harm her, and I doubt
it's any worse than the raw snake meat you and I ate."

Maybe not, but... "I'm going to wash up." He stood and headed
for the river.

By the time he returned, Gini was finished with her scraping
and Scully was bringing the snapping turtle's shell from the
cave.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"I don't know. Gini asked for it." She handed the turtle shell
-- which was as big as a punch bowl -- to the girl.

Gini set it on the ground beside the log. "Muhl-dar break
head," she said.

"Excuse me?" he asked. "Break head?"

Gini smiled and pointed first to the turtle-bowl, and then to
the beaver's decapitated skull lying beside the entrails in
the grass. After several minutes of sign language and broken
English it became clear that she wanted him to crack open the
beaver's skull with a rock and dump the contents into the
turtle shell. Why, he wasn't exactly sure, but guessed it must
have something to do with curing the hide.

While Gini was showing Scully how to rough up the pelt's
underside with sand and fine gravel, he hunted for an
appropriate sized rock to hammer open the beaver's head.

A fist-sized stone caught his eye. He brought it and the
grisly severed head to the log where Gini and Scully were
abrading the skin. A few well-placed blows between the
beaver's eyes punched a hole through its fur and bone, opening
its flat forehead and exposing a gray soup of brains inside.

"There you go." He nudged the mutilated head toward Gini.

She took it from him and scooped the brains into the turtle
shell. Mulder was reminded of a grotesque little verse from
his childhood. He began to chant while she emptied the skull:
"Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts; mutilated
monkey meat; little turdy birdy feet; French-fried eyeballs
swimming in a bowl of blood; And I forgot my spoon!"

"But I've got my straw," Scully finished the ditty for him,
and followed it with the prerequisite slurp, which made Gini
pause at her brain mashing to giggle.

Her laugh was so throaty and infectious Mulder couldn't help
but chuckle, too.

Smiling broadly, Gini held out the bowl to him. "Muhl-dar bel-
dil-khon."

"Sorry, I didn't quite get that."

"Bel-dil-khon. Um...fill...uhhh..." She thought for a moment,
trying to come up with the appropriate words. "Muhl-
dar...make...uh, tkoh."

Now Scully laughed. Loudly.

"What?" he asked, not getting the joke.

"She wants you to fill the bowl."

"I get that, but with what?"

Scully seemed to be struggling to suppress another laugh.
"Urine."

"Urine? She wants me to pee in this?"

Scully nodded. "I remember Dr. Diamond telling us that Sub-
Arctic People used animal brains and human urine to tan
caribou and moose skins."

"Well that's fine and dandy, but why do *I* have to piss in
the pot? What's wrong with your urine? Or hers?"

She shrugged. "It could be a tribal preference. Maybe male pee
is thought to be luckier than female pee."

"Luckier?"

"I don't know, Mulder. Just do it, will you?"

Reluctantly he grabbed the turtle shell from Gini and headed
for the trees. Behind him he heard Gini ask Scully, "Where
Muhl-dar go?"

"He'll be right back, sweetie."

Sequestered behind dense foliage, he set the turtle shell on
the ground between his feet. Didn't this just take the
proverbial cake? Pissing into a bowl of beaver brains.
"Highlight of my professional career," he muttered as he
emptied his bladder.

Walking back to Scully and Gini, he tried not to blush or trip
over his feet and fall face-first into the damn bowl.

"Here." He passed the bowl to Gini, who set it on the ground
and began mashing its contents with a paddle-shaped stick.

"Ut-zah," she said after a few minutes of mixing. The gray
contents had become a greasy slurry, which she applied to the
inside of the pelt with her bare hands.

"Isn't that...unhygienic?" Mulder asked, face wrinkled in
disgust.

"Human urine is sterile when it's fresh," Scully informed him.

Twice Gini smeared the entire skin with the brain mixture,
buffing the surface between coats with a handful of sand. Then
she rolled the skin into a tight bundle and left it beside the
log.

"That's it? It's ready to be made into fur coats?" Mulder
asked.

"Not yet," Scully said. "Dr. Diamond described several
traditional methods for softening hides, to keep the skin
flexible."

"Chewed by Indian maidens?"

"Something like that." She turned to Gini, who was smeared
with blood, brains, sweat, and no doubt, Mulder's urine. "Bath
time, sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up."

"Bat-time!" Gini grinned and immediately stripped off Mulder's
soiled shirt. She dropped it onto the ground and ran naked to
the river.

Scully collected the shirt from the grass. "I'll wash this."

"You do that. I'd prefer it didn't smell like my pee."

"Your *lucky* pee," she called over her shoulder, waving the
shirt at him.

From the water's edge, Gini high-stepped into the water and
shouted at the top of her lungs, "Lug-hee pee, lug-hee pee,
lug-hee pee!"

*   *   *

A knife of defeat prodded Chal between the shoulders as he and
the others crossed the sun-washed ball field at Turkey Lake.
He gripped his spear in bone-weary fingers. The weapon seemed
as burdensome as a bull mastodon tusk, tugging painfully at
the muscles of his arm. His travel pack caused him irritation,
too. Its strap chafed his neck with every plodding step, and
the pack itself pressed heavily against his spine although it
contained nothing more than a few meager supplies. The
hunters' journey to Ye-tsan had yielded only empty bellies and
disconsolate hearts. No fresh meat, no redress for the
transgressions against Owl Clan, and no happy homecoming for
Gini.

Chal conjured up an image of her the way she'd looked the day
he met her at the lake, her eyes flashing with indignation,
her pretty mouth set in a taut frown, while the midday sun
glossed her braids and a light breeze rattled the beads in her
hair. His bones had rattled at that moment, too. It took all
his strength to quell the trembling in his limbs as he stood
on the bank above her. No