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no, ma’am. As you say, ma’am.”
    She gave him one long look in her sternest mode before she realized that this respite might have to last both of them a long time.
    She went into his arms. “Oh, Sean Shongili Selkie, I do love you so much!”
    “I, you, alannah,” he said softly and kissed her. But it was a kiss of exceeding gentleness and no passion whatsoever. He, too, accepted the inevitable.
    “We can do a lot together,” she offered as a token apology.
    “We already have,” he said, laughing. But his hand on her back guided her firmly out of their private retreat.
     
    Coaxtl must be a very bad animal, Goat-dung realized, or he would have devoured such a wicked person as herself instead of sharing his catch of small game with her as if she were a cub. Maybe Coaxtl wasn’t male. Goat-dung sneaked a look. It was hard to tell. The cat was extremely furry, with extra tufts on the ears and a thick, bushy tail. Its coat was dense and very soft-looking; the coloring white with large spots of different sizes, according to the muscle they were on: long rectangular ones on the neck, big circular ones on the shoulders, smaller, more regular ones on the abdomen, all shaded from gray to black, blurred and clouded by the length and thickness of the fur. The paws were also extremely large, though the face was sweet, with large golden eyes and a black nose and black-lipped mouth that seemed to be perpetually smiling. The cat
looked
female enough to Goat-dung, and there was nothing obvious showing under the belly to convince her otherwise, so she decided that she knew the reason why the
cat hadn’t eaten her. It was because Coaxtl was a
mother
cat, and probably she had lost her kittens and was willing to accept Goat-dung as a substitute. That must be why. The cat certainly showed no compunction about killing anything else.
    With a mighty leap and a swipe of a muscular foreleg, a deft hook of the paw and a single economical crunch, the cat had bagged each victim—three snow geese and a brace of rabbits. When the final kill was made, Coaxtl sat with the rabbits at her feet and looked expectantly at Goat-dung, who took it she was being invited to partake.
    “I—I can’t eat raw meat,” she said. Even hungry as she was, she really didn’t think she could. Life was hard in the flock, but they plucked their birds and skinned their animals before cooking. She looked around at the awful openness of the mountain meadows and thought of the Shepherd Howling and the beating she would get if she was found—and, worse, having to be the Shepherd’s wife and all that meant. “Besides, I don’t want to be in the open. Can’t we go back to the cave?”
    Coaxtl gave her a long golden-eyed stare. Goat-dung wished the cat would speak to her again—not that the beast spoke actual words out loud. But Goat-dung
heard
words in her mind, and while the big cat’s conversation was terse, it was conversation, and it was not angry or accusatory, which was the sort Goat-dung was used to. It wasn’t that the cat
liked
her precisely, but Coaxtl did not so far appear to
dis
like her. Of course, people in the flock never said that they disliked her. On the contrary, they all claimed to love her and said they were pointing out the error of her ways so that she would not become a victim to the evils of the world, but they did indicate, by deed and word, that they thought the task of trying to save her was quite hopeless.
    She followed the cat back along the swollen streambed to the cavern. The snow had not all melted by any means, and now, suddenly, the air was colder, and the light drizzle that had been falling throughout the day turned to sleet, then snow. Only partially dressed in wet rags, Goat-dung began shivering so hard that she had difficulty walking.
    The cave was warmer, perhaps warmed by the water pooling in its center. But it was not warm enough to combat the temperature dropping as night approached. She needed a fire to keep her from