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The most startling thing about a gronom is its face—or more precisely, the absence of one.

Two young kirins rushed through a sunlit forest, scrambling over tree roots, dodging pinecones and toadstools. Rabbits and field mice eyed them curiously as they passed.

They stopped to look back. Through a break in the trees they saw it, still distant, coming steadily over a rise. First its head, then a white hairless body with two long arms, then two sturdy legs. It resembled no other living thing.

"No face," murmured Talli.

The same height as a kirin, the gronom was methodically stalking them.

The dark-eyed Gilin grasped Talli's hand. "We'll have to separate. Maybe we'll both make it. But one of us must!"

Talli looked down as their right feet touched in the time-honored kirin gesture of joy, sorrow, greeting, and parting. We might never see each other again, she thought, or any of our clan.

A burnished blue gemstone was in Gilin's hand, and he pressed it into hers. "It brings luck. It was my grandfather's, my father's, mine, now yours."

She caressed his hand, then from her belt satchel withdrew a thin gold disc, shiny and worn. "My birth piece," she said, giving it to him. "Remember me."

She looked over her shoulder, her hair a shimmer of gold in the sunlight. The enemy was marching intently toward them.

"Vicious, hideous fiend," cried Talli. "Leave us alone!"

The creature gave no indication of hearing a word.

The kirins glanced at each other, then turned and started running in opposite directions, neither knowing which one the gronom would follow.

Breaking into a clearing, Talli moved along the forest floor at a steady pace. She looked down at her clothing, soiled after days in the forest. Where will I go? she wondered. I can easily outrun the gronom. But I need rest and it doesn't. It can follow my footsteps. I need Faralan. He's at home and I can't go there. But could I get just close enough to call him? The clan would still be safe. I'm going to try.

Heading toward home, her thoughts turned to Olamin, the magician who had died this morning in the company of his three young disciples, Gilin, Talli, and Reydel.

We came to know him only by chance, she thought, but over the past few days he taught us things we knew nothing about. Our clansmen still don't. We're his only disciples.

"If I tell what I know," he said, "I will thrust you into battle with forces beyond nature—gronoms and the evil behind them. I've held the knowledge for years. Gronoms pursue anyone who has it. I've never revealed it. But I'm dying, and the information is vital for our race's survival. I must tell you." Tears ran down his face as he told his secrets, because he knew what would happen to us.

But what he asked us to do seems impossible. "Go eastward," he said, "thousands of clan dominions on land, even farther over the ocean, to the great stones, the hanging stones. There a powerful new evil controls beasts like gronoms, sending them as far away as we are. Kirin magic was once glorious, but the evil has corrupted it. You must free the true leader, imprisoned for centuries, conquer her depraved enemies, and allow the old magic to flourish anew. You must find the way to do this yourselves. I was not told how." Gilin and I stared at each other, and I wondered—why us?

And Reydel, our poor lost friend. She stumbled fleeing the gronom and couldn't get up. The creature touched her and she vanished, right before our eyes.

Now only Gilin and I possess the knowledge, the horrible, enticing knowledge. It's what Olamin taught us, why we're being pursued, why we can't go home. Yet that's where I'm heading. What else can I do?

She quickened her pace and tried to think of something hopeful—herself on her raven, Faralan—and pictured the two of them flying through the skies.

But she couldn't keep Olamin out of her mind. She could hear his rasping voice. "Still other creatures seek kirins with the knowledge. Gronoms don't fly, but the others do. I've never seen one, can't describe them, but they're even more dangerous than gronoms."

In the air on Faralan, thought Talli, I'll be an easy target for them, and I have no idea what they look like . . . I can't think about that now.

When she could almost see her tree, Rogustin, she slowed to a quiet trot, watchful for clan members in the woods. They're looking for us, she thought. They wonder why we're missing. If they know I'm back, they'll want me to stay. I can't!

Cautiously she moved to where she could see the tree. Gilin's blue gemstone was in her hand, and she placed it in her belt satchel, then cupped her hands to her mouth. About to make a sound, she heard conversation from someone coming through the underbrush. Stepping quickly behind a tree, she recognized two voices.

"We've combed the woods for them time and again," she heard Gilin's older brother say, passing but a short distance away. "The whole clan has."

"And we'll keep searching," said Gilin's father. "How many days has it been?"

Talli nearly called out to tell them where she, Gilin, and Reydel had been, about perils most kirins knew nothing of, rampant in the world in which they serenely and precariously existed, about the vulnerability of the kirin race, and of her weariness and loneliness. Instead she held a hand over her mouth and waited until they had climbed the clan tree and were gone.

Stepping out, she raised her hands to her mouth and made four muted sounds. Movement occurred high in the tree. Then she saw Faralan flapping his dark wings, rising into the air from a towering branch, and gliding down to alight beside her. She hoped no one else saw him.

"Orann," she said softly to the giant bird, a word imbued with ancient magic, a greeting between kirins and their ilon, their bird and animal partners. The raven stood alertly as Talli climbed onto his back and entwined her feet beneath his neck. She spoke a command, and the bird unfolded his immense wings and lifted off. They moved gracefully upward through branches and past treetops, where Faralan leveled off, awaiting further instruction.

Nervously searching the skies in every direction, Talli saw nothing ominous, no flying monsters, no creatures of doom.

Gilin! she thought suddenly. I'm leaving you behind. The gronom. Is it following you? I can help. No! If the creature should sense me on this bird, it would communicate that to allies—flying ones.

Glancing a last time at her tree, she caught a glimpse of the door to her family's dwelling. As she and the raven drifted higher and farther away, the tree slowly receded and blended into the forest.

She remembered Olamin's directive. "Go to the great stones, the hanging stones." Everyone knows about them, she thought. I have all my life. They're the center for kirin magic. Of all places! The hanging stones, always revered. How can they now be filled with evil? And the journey to get there. Impossibly long and hard even for a traveling party. It was never intended that I go alone. What chance have I of making it? What would I do if I got there?

Forcing her gaze ahead, she spoke resolutely to Faralan. "Set a course in the direction of the sunrise."

As the great bird made a sweeping turn eastward, fear welled up inside Talli that she would never see her clan, her forest, or Gilin again.

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For Talli flying had always been a joy. The scenery passing beneath, the rush of air over her face and body, and the harmony between herself and the bird were all part of her delight. As Faralan climbed higher and higher, Talli's troubled spirits began to rise.

The atmosphere is so clean and clear, she thought, I can see in every direction. And all around us, wood thrushes, blue jays, and sparrows fluttering to and fro on a sunny afternoon, intent on their daily business. How different this is from the trouble and worry on the ground. Perhaps, for the moment, I'm out of danger.

Leaning forward, she spoke to Faralan, the words intended as much for herself as the raven. "You're a strong one, a brave one." She thought of the flying creatures of doom. "You can outfly anything. You'll take us safely away."

With her golden hair flowing behind, and the raven's black wings beating strongly, they progressed without incident. She wouldn't allow herself to dwell on what had happened, what lay ahead, or that she was coursing ever farther from home.

Eventually she began looking for a place to land and find water. Below was a stream of silver curling through a lush thicket of dark green. A grove of oak trees, she thought. She instructed the raven to descend. Sailing effortlessly to earth, they touched down among trees near the moving water. Talli dismounted, releasing the bird to locate food for himself. She took a cool drink from the stream, then found berries and mushrooms. With little appetite, she ate what she could. I'm going on today, she resolved, but right now I'm exhausted.

Reclining beside the stream, she closed her eyes, hoping for rest. But instead, all-too-familiar images of recent events flooded her mind. Then she thought of her gentle, adoring Gilin. What became of him? Did he evade the nightmarish gronom? Was he caught? I must know. Is there a way?

She opened her eyes. "Olamin's ring!" she said.

Sitting up quickly, she looked at her right foot. The ring on her third toe had been Olamin's. Just before he died, she thought, he handed it to me, also giving his calamar to Gilin, and a parchment to Reydel with mysterious writings from the past. The three objects were magical. Olamin tried to explain what they could do, but he had so little time. When poor Reydel was captured by the gronom, we saw what happened to the parchment. It vanished when she did.

Hands trembling, Talli slid the ring off her toe. Made of silver and with no markings, it was plain and not like something a magician would wear. Olamin said to hold the ring in both hands and look through it. If the proper elements were in balance, images would come into view within the ring. A vapor would appear first, then obscure outlines, next pictures and sounds, and actual communication could take place.

Olamin didn't have time to demonstrate any of this. He said the ring would behave differently for different owners. "When conditions are right and you need its powers," he said, "you'll find a way to release them."

Holding the ring out, she gazed through it. I need you now. How do I bring you to life? "When I look through you," she sighed, "I see nothing but earth, trees, and sky."

She thought of the calamar given to Gilin, a round gleaming piece as wide as his palm. Olamin said it's more powerful than the ring, and that the two objects, in his possession so long, can communicate with each other. Could I find Gilin and his calamar with the ring?

Her enthusiasm was heightened. Olamin said it would work together with my mind, but I must clear it and think only of what I most wish to see.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Gilin. She opened them. No Gilin, nothing appeared in the ring. She closed her eyes and concentrated longer with the same result, and tried again and again without success.

I'll try something else. I'll think of good things, delightful things.

One by one she did—climbing to the top of a brilliantly colored maple in early fall, the smell of wood smoke from her clan's gathering fire, walking in the woods hand-in-hand with Gilin, warm honey mushrooms for breakfast. After concentrating on each, she opened her eyes to find no result. She persisted, testing numerous other scenes in her mind's eye. Nothing happened.

Well, then I'll think of bad things, which shouldn't be hard after recent events.

Not wanting to dwell on these, and with nothing happening, she gave up and slid the ring back onto her toe.

Glancing about, her green eyes glistening, she saw that shadows were lengthening, the sun was sinking, and dusk was nearly at hand. I got so involved with the ring, she thought, I'll go no farther today. She shuddered, thinking of gronoms and other appalling creatures. I'll spend the night alone, this one and how many more?

Refreshed by food and drink, Faralan was waiting nearby. His mistress, however, was torn about what to do in the morning. I cannot go home. Olamin has given us a mission. Go east, he said, and so great a distance I can't even imagine it.

Thinking about him describing it made her cringe. Her heart was pounding as she stood up and began walking by the stream. She gazed in every direction for gronoms, and searched the skies for other attackers, but saw none. I'm being hunted, she thought. It's only a matter of time before I'm found.

Taking out Gilin's burnished gemstone, she squeezed it in her hand. Did he escape? Is he alive? Should Faralan and I search for him? I'd have no idea where to look. But I must find him.

She sat down by the stream, her head in her hands. As daylight waned and darkness took sway, she glanced up and made a startling discovery. The ring is glowing! Dimly, but glowing. Now I remember something. Olamin said that for some owners the ring would work at night.

"That's it," she cried, removing it quickly from her toe. "It will work for me at night!"

Faralan looked on inquiringly. Then, realizing these were not commands, he returned to his relaxed and obedient posture.

Putting the gemstone away, Talli held the ring in both hands. The polished silver glittered, reflecting the light of a full moon. She noticed something else. The ring's glow increased and decreased in harmony with the moonlight, fading when the moon disappeared behind a cloud, intensifying when it shined brightly again.

Puzzled, she stared at the ring, then rubbed it, put it back on her toe, took it off, dipped it in the stream, buffed it with her tunic, and concentrated on things good and bad as she looked through it. Nothing seems to help, she thought. Except for glowing, it does nothing.

Giving up, she put the ring back on her toe.

She realized she must find a place to spend the night, and wanted to be in a tree. A healthy-looking oak was a short distance away. Summoning Faralan, she climbed aboard and spoke a few words. The giant bird flapped into the air and by the light of the moon headed for the tree. He alighted on a large bough and Talli dismounted. Finding a comfortable hole, she settled in for what she knew would be an uncomfortable stay. Faralan remained on a nearby branch, alert and patient. Her sleep was indeed restless, but the night passed without incident.

Just before dawn, while dreaming of home, she awoke to the misery of her predicament. Sitting up, she saw that the ring was still aglow, and slid it off her toe. I'll try once more, she thought with little hope of success.

Reclining on her back, partway out of the hole, she held the ring in both hands. Guiding it about at arm's length, she looked through it, moving it up and down and from side to side. By chance she angled it toward the full moon, then stopped to sight the waning orb through it. The ring's glow intensified and a mist began clouding her view. She looked about. There was no morning fog. She looked back at the ring. The thickening vapor was inside it.

She sat up excitedly, careful to keep holding the ring toward the moon. I have something now. It's working, but what do I do next? The moon will soon fade into the daylight. Concentrate. I want to see Gilin!

Instantly the vapor cleared. An image appeared, blurred at first, then more defined, as though the ring were homing in on its subject. Finally, to her delight, she could clearly see Gilin. By the early light of day, he was bending over and awakening another kirin, sleeping in a tree hollow. Then she heard Gilin's soft voice. "We must move on," he said to his companion.

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Strolling through the forest on a bright, cool morning, Hut and Berin, kirin lads of the Yorl clan, were out hunting for mushrooms. They came across clusters of several varieties. Entering a stand of white ash trees, where sunbeams cast a patchwork of light and dark on the moist forest floor, the boys marveled at a new find.

"Have any idea what these are?" asked Hut.

The younger Berin shook his head.

"Morel mushrooms, a garden of them," said Hut, no taller than the tallest morel. "See the ridges and hollows in them? They only grow in early spring when lilacs blossom. They're great to eat. C'mon, let's get 'em."

Out came pruning knives, and they began severing the mushrooms' hollow stems. Working separately, each cut the edible caps of about ten mushrooms from their stems. Then they worked together, half carrying, half dragging the furrowed caps to a central location where they would remain until the clan could retrieve them. Finished, the boys sat down to rest beside their precious booty.

"Will we be popular when we get home," chortled Hut.

"Mushroom stew tonight," said Berin.

"Or fried, or roasted, or whatever anybody wants."

"For the whole clan! Maybe we invite the Mogers, too."

"I can't wait . . ."

The crack of a branch, followed by the shuffling of huge feet through dry grass and brush, stopped the lads' conversation. They turned to see a pair of gray-haired humans approaching, a man and a woman, each wearing a long coat and carrying a sack.

Hut and Berin quietly got to their feet, backed a few steps away, then stood motionless facing the severed mushrooms. From early childhood kirins are taught to remain still and silent if ever in the presence of humans. Though in plain view, the lads made no attempt to hide.

Catching sight of the morels, the woman stopped, pointed at them, and spoke to the man. Then, directly in front of the kirins, the man picked up a mushroom and examined it. Both humans kneeled down, and the woman began placing the morels in her sack.

I can't believe we're so close to humans, thought Hut, looking up at them, his heart racing. And—they're stealing our mushrooms!

The woman had taken several and was reaching for another beauty.

Those are ours, thought Hut. Leaping forward, he grasped the morel with both hands, lifted it, and began carrying it away.

A long way from their home in Duluth, Barney and Hazel O'Brien were out on a mushroom hunt of their own. Hazel's eyes darted from one side of the path to the other. She caught sight of a collection of leveled morels. Stopping, she surveyed them curiously, the man going around her to continue exploring.

"Barney," she said, pointing. "You won't believe this!"

He turned. "Well, look at those beauties. Someone's cut 'em and just left 'em there? Wonder why?"

"Anything wrong with them?"

Picking one up, he examined it in a large hand. "Look fine to me, healthy and just cut."

She glanced about the sunlit glade. "No one's around. Who could have cut them?" She kneeled down intently. "Well, there's no reason to waste good Minnesota morels." She chuckled. "In fact, gorgeous Minnesota morels."

Barney knelt to observe as she picked up the treasured mushrooms and put them one by one in her sack. Having taken several, she was reaching for another when something occurred they would never be able to explain. The mushroom vanished.

Her hand poised in the air, she glanced at him. "What happened to it?"

Dumbfounded, he stared at the place the morel had been.

An immense black bird slanted down from a tree and landed beside Hazel's sack. She stood up quietly and backed away, the bird holding its ground, staring at her menacingly.

Barney got up and waved his arms. "Shoo! Get away from here."

Another black bird, even larger, alighted next to its counterpart, eyeing the humans defiantly, fluttering its wings and cawing noisily.

Barney picked up a stick and brandished it before the ravens. Then he stopped. "Something's wrong with those crows," he said hoarsely. "They're standing right in front of the mushrooms, almost like they're protecting 'em. Do crows eat morels? And what in blazes happened to that other mushroom?"

He paused. "Something's wrong here. Let's go!"

He dropped the stick and was about to run, but Hazel hesitated. Taking a step toward her, the larger raven threw its head back, and from its throat poured the most enchanting song they'd ever heard, a melodic cascade of tones. The humans backed away, only to be stalked by the bird. Astonished, they turned and ran, crashing through the woods as fast as they could go.

Hut dropped the mushroom. He and Berin bounded joyfully toward the two ravens, as an adult kirin dismounted from each.

"Langastacor, tychiam nona od nona," said Ruggum Chamter, a bearded clan elder, speaking softly but glaring at Hut. "That was foolish, very foolish indeed."

"They couldn't see me," said Hut.

"You might still have been detected," growled Ruggum.

"Did you follow us?" asked Berin.

"We happened by," said Diliani, a tall woman, her long black gown trailing on the ground. She gazed at Hut with eyes darker and more penetrating than he'd ever seen. "We never interfere in the affairs of humans, but we feared you were in danger. We had to act. When the humans appeared, you shouldn't have moved. You should never have picked up the mushroom. Even morels aren't so valuable as to risk detection."

"They got away with four," chirped Hut. "The woman had them in her bag."

"Quiet," hissed Ruggum, glancing about. "Humans are nearby!"

"No, they ran away," whispered Hut, grinning.

"Five," said Berin. "The man had one in his hand."

"Never mind the mushrooms," said Diliani. "Could you understand their speech?"

"They liked the looks of our mushrooms," said Berin, "but not your ravens."

The lads giggled, but were met by Ruggum's stern gaze. "You've had a close encounter with humans. Frivolity is not appropriate."

"If they can't see us," said Berin, "how can they hear and smell and feel us, as we've been taught?"

"If humans can't see us," said Hut, "how do animals, birds, and insects see us?"

"Important questions," said Diliani, "but this is hardly the time or place to discuss them. You did well in finding your mushrooms. We'll be back with others from the clan to transport them."

Climbing onto their ravens, she and Ruggum entwined their feet beneath the birds' necks as only kirins can. Then, speaking soft commands, they lifted off and headed the short distance to the home tree.

That evening, excitement filled the air as the Yorl clan awaited word from their magician and those involved in today's startling events.

The clan's gathering place was a circular wooden platform fixed securely to the boughs of a giant oak tree, a considerable climb above the forest floor. At the platform's center, a fire burned on a flat stone fireplace, flames and embers contained by a border of large stones.

Apart from their families, Hut and Berin stood restlessly beside the fire. Behind them, and on nearby branches above, the clan waited cheerfully. The blaze projected enough light for the lads to see undulating shapes and outlines—the clan's ravens and squirrels maintaining a vigil at the edge of the platform.

"The scent of cooked morels is still in the air," said Shalkun, sitting with his small daughter on a branch. "Can you smell it?"

"They were good," she said, nodding and smiling. She pointed to Hut and Berin. "They're going to speak tonight?"

"They saw human beings today," said her father, "which is rare. But much more than that happened. Clan members made contact with the humans-actually confronted them. I can't tell you when that last happened, with kirins anywhere. No one in this clan's ever done it, until today. The boys will tell us all about it."

"Don't humans know we live here?" asked the girl.

"I hope not," said her father, shaking his head.

"Can't they see our fire?"

"A clan gathering, even with a fire and after dark, has proven to be safe. Our gathering place is high in the tree, hidden from below by the trunk and branches. Should humans happen by, they can't see the flames and the smoke drifts silently upward."

"Why do we hide from them?"

Her father smiled. "Long, long ago, the two races cooperated and knew each other well. Then something happened. Nobody remembers what, but we kirins had to separate from humans and protect ourselves from them. To help with this, our magicians cast a spell making all kirins invisible, but just to humans. All other creatures see us. It's called the spell of no'an."

"Can't humans see our clothes?"

"Anything we're wearing or holding becomes invisible, too."

"Do they hear us?"

"They can hear, feel, smell and—heaven forbid—taste us."

She giggled. "What do we taste like?"

He patted her head. "I think you'd be pretty sweet, little girl."

Heads turned as the tall, stately clan magician approached the fire from the side opposite Hut and Berin.

"Speckarin," whispered Shalkun. "Now we must be quiet."

Stopping before the fire, Speckarin faced the lads and spectators, his hooded gown yellow, his mustache and beard gray, a luminous globe in his hand. Green eyes glimmering, he placed the orb on a standard beside him. He gazed at the boys across the fire, then asked them to turn toward the clan and recount today's remarkable events. To the enchantment of all, the lads told everything that occurred that morning.

At the end of the lads' account, Speckarin spoke. "Our encounters with humans are confusing, both to them and to us. Contacts with them must be handled with great caution. Humans were once our allies. I hope they will be again."

With the large gathering over, the magician convened a smaller meeting in his apartment. Seated about his fireplace were the principals in today's events: Hut, Berin, Ruggum, and Diliani.

"I don't condone what you did today, Hut," said Speckarin. "Spiriting the mushroom away from the humans was dangerous. But it did confirm what the spell of no'an does. Your picking up the mushroom made it disappear from the humans' view. Diliani tells me they looked bewildered, and obviously didn't know what had happened. She also tells me you understood their language. Now you can see why we teach it in school." He paused. "I have something which might interest you, especially after today."

Getting up, he went to his cluttered workbench looking for a document. Returning, he read it aloud. "Humans who have seen kirins have referred to us as elves, gremlins, fairies, brownies, dwarfs, kobolds, reina, leprechauns, trolls, menehune, tomte, and gnomes. Legends about small beings the world over have arisen from these infrequent sightings."

He looked up. "Sightings of us. Yes, to humans we're almost always invisible. But under rare circumstances, we're not."

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Prior to flying on birds, many children of the Yorl clan and surrounding clans enjoy a learning period, playing and practicing with squirrels, preparing for the time when the young kirins will fly. As Hut left the meeting in Speckarin's apartment, one of the squirrels on the gathering platform approached him, then became quiet and attentive.

Hut was small for his age, but made up for it with verve, determination, and daring. He was always interested in something adventurous in the forest, even if it bordered on perilous. He sometimes had to be dissuaded from activities by friends or elders. Though disapproving, Ruggum and Diliani hadn't been surprised by his snatching the morel mushroom from the humans.

Hut greeted Stala, his squirrel, with a hand on the animal's ear and a word, "Orann." Moving not a muscle, the squirrel stood awaiting a command. Hut gazed into the surrounding forest. Only the closest trees were visible, others fading into the blackness of night.

"I'd love to take you for a ride," said Hut, "but I'm told never to ride after dark. I'll be out early in the morning. Perhaps Blinda and Aassa will join us." He hoped his younger sister would be in the mood for an outing on her squirrel. Departing, he knew Stala would observe him until he was out of sight, then go on to his own place in the tree's upper branches.

Climbing the tree toward home, Hut's long, narrow feet and strong tendons propelled him with astonishing results. Suddenly realizing that, he slowed to look down at his bare feet, and remembered what his mother had told him. At birth kirins' feet are the same size relative to their bodies as are humans' feet. But kirins' feet grow more rapidly during the first few years of life. As everyone knows, from kirin to kirin eventual foot size varies.

My grandfather's feet, he thought, are among the longest in the clan. He's proud to say that our feet thrust us to lengths, heights, and velocities that might otherwise not be possible for beings of our stature. "The larger the foot," he says, "the more agile the kirin." Mine might still be growing, thought Hut. I hope so.

One might think kirins who live in trees live in simple tree holes. But the size, comfort, and warmth of their homes far surpass that. Because Hut was small, he entered his family's dwelling without stooping to get through the doorway. His father and grandfather, sitting by the fireplace in the entryway, turned to greet him.

The small room was carved into a large branch, as were the apartment's other rooms. In fashioning their homes, tree-dwelling kirins take great care to preserve the tree's life functions. An experienced tree architect plans and supervises construction. Tree carvers perform the chiseling and sculpting. Chosen trees are damaged as little as possible. Some rooms are built adjacent to the trunk and branches but not within them. Those chambers, outside of the tree, are made to look like the lumpy outgrowths on older trees.

Lighted by the fire, the entry room was cheery. Hut's father and grandfather were engaged in a practice commonly enjoyed by kirins of the region, especially on chilly nights—warming their feet by the fire.

Hut remembered something unusual. "This morning," he said, "a beautiful song from Ruggum Chamter's raven frightened the humans away. I've never heard of such a thing."

"Ruggum," said his grandfather, "is one of our finer practitioners of curlace magic. His old ilon, Alsinam, has been with him for twenty years. He's trained the bird to do many unique things—singing is one of his more creative efforts."

"Curlace," said Hut's father, "through which we instruct animal and bird species—in our case squirrels and ravens—is a revered activity. As you know, some ilon are captured, some born into ilon families already under our influence. They enjoy a charmed life and can live eight or ten times longer than their untamed counterparts in the wild. When you consider it, both we and our ilon live remarkable lives."

"As for the humans," chuckled the grandfather, "I'll wager they're still running. They'll never tell a soul about the incident for fear of being ridiculed to death."

Hut thought of Stala, and tomorrow morning, and what might be one of his last rides aboard his old chum. Hut was getting to the age when he could, even should, graduate from squirrel to raven. But the change from animal to bird signaled a milestone, and he wasn't certain he was ready. The idea of flying, he thought, excites me, but leaving my friend, Stala, makes me sad.

"Goodnight," he told his elders as he left through a passageway. Even in the dark he knew it well, partly ramp, partly stairs. When he got to his room, he lit the slender candle on the bedside table. Then he closed the door, undressed, and climbed into his long, warm night garment with a roomy distal pouch for feet.

Well separated from the rest of the apartment, his room was constructed in a lumpy outgrowth of the tree. Properly insulated, it was cozy and comfortable. He got into bed and pulled up the covers.

Drifting off to sleep, he envisioned himself soaring high above the trees, clinging to the back of an eagle, never suspecting that before the light of morning his life would be changed forever.

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Gilin entered through Hut's family's front door. He made his way quietly through the warm entryway, coals still glowing in the fireplace, and to the corridor leading to the room he sought. He was cautious traversing the passageway in the dark, not knowing it as intimately as his cousin. Opening the door slowly, he stepped into the room lit dimly by the candle. He closed the door softly and moved to the bedside.

"Hut," he whispered huskily. "Wake up. I need to talk to you."

Hut was asleep facing the wall. Gilin nudged his shoulder. "Wake up! We need to talk now."

Stirring, Hut turned and was surprised but pleased when he saw the intruder was his cousin and best friend. Gilin was from the Moger clan, whose tree wasn't far, but Hut hadn't seen him for days.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" whispered Hut, blinking and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Did you wake anyone up on the way in?"

"I'm sure no one heard me."

"What are you doing here?"

"I need help." Urgency was in Gilin's voice. "Talli and I are in serious trouble—nothing we started, but a terrible situation. We're being followed and we're in great danger."

Throwing his long feet over the edge of the bed, Hut sat up, fully awake. His heart was beating fast, his green eyes glimmering in the candlelight. His cousin appeared genuinely frightened and exhausted. "Where's Talli?" asked Hut.

"I wish I knew, but I don't," said Gilin.

"What kind of trouble—that you didn't start? Who's following you?"

"This will be hard to understand," said Gilin, "but . . . I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"For your sake and your clan's safety, I can say very little. If I say more, it will put you in the same position as me."

"How can telling me make a difference? Did you take something that wasn't yours, or argue with an elder, or interfere with someone's ilon, or what?"

"I've done nothing wrong. If it were something like that, I'd tell you right away. It's much more important and dangerous. It could be a threat to us all."

Hut stood up and stared at Gilin. They'd been close since childhood. Hut had fair hair, and was younger and smaller. Gilin was black-haired, handsome, and sturdy in build. He had deep, dark eyes and was often said to be the best-looking lad in either clan.

"A threat to us all?" said Hut loudly. "Who's following you?"

"Quiet," whispered Gilin. "I wish I could tell more. I wish I could tell you everything. But I've said I can't. You have no choice but to believe me! I need help. I'd like you to come with me—tonight."

"Tonight? Where?"

"I don't know. I must simply get away. And in a hurry. I'm being followed by . . . a thing, something you've never heard of." Becoming desperate, Gilin decided to reveal more to get his cousin's help. "Something very dangerous is tracking me because of . . . what I know."

"Is this a game, like we played as children?"

"It's no game. The reason I can't tell more is that—if I did—you'd be tracked."

"I'd be tracked?"

"Yes! I haven't told anyone about this, my parents, my sister, my brother. Only you."

"Lucky me. Where would we go? I've hardly been farther from home than your tree."

"I need an ilon. A raven would be best, but you've never flown. Your sister's squirrel would do. You could help me command her."

"What would Blinda think waking up in the morning and finding Aassa gone? Besides, you're too big for her." Not enamored with Gilin's plan, Hut wasn't eager to leave his warm room and go out into a cold night.

He gasped and a chill ran through his body as he became aware of a scraping, grating sensation just beneath the level of hearing. Distinct and intense, it seemed to be shaking the room's very fiber.

"It's the gronom!" said Gilin. "It's found me. If I stay longer, I'll endanger your clan. When I leave it will sense that I'm gone and move on looking for me—or Talli. We've got to leave now."

"Why don't you just go home?"

"Because, the creatures stalking us will stop at nothing to capture us. They'd destroy anyone defending us or be destroyed themselves. When one of them is killed, others come in numbers and stay until they capture the kirin the dead gronom was after. Our clan would defend us. Gronoms would be killed. More would come and they could easily overwhelm the clan. That's why I can't go home, or stay here."

Hut removed his night clothes and pulled on his underwear, now convinced something was very wrong. "What does a gronom look like?"

"We haven't time!" The vibrations were becoming stronger. "We've got to get the ilon. Without one I'll be captured. The creatures are relentless. I've seen what happens to someone who's caught."

"What? Who was caught?" rasped an increasingly anxious Hut, but his cousin shook his head and didn't answer. "It's following you," said Hut, reaching for his shirt, "because of what you know. What do you know? Tell me something! How can I go if I know nothing?"

Touching Hut's right foot in the traditional gesture, Gilin looked his cousin in the eye and spoke calmly. "You must trust me. I'm in danger that grows by the moment. If I told you my secrets, you also would be hunted. Right now the gronom wants only me, or anyone like me with the knowledge. It can't see or sense you in any way—unless you have this knowledge, or threaten its existence or its attacks on me."

The gratings were becoming ever more intense, as though an earthquake were shaking the small room. Fumbling with his pant laces, Hut wished he could awaken his mother, father, and grandfather, but knew they didn't have time and Gilin wouldn't tell them anything anyway. He needed an ilon. But Hut sensed he needed something more—a companion, an ally.

"How long would we be gone?" asked Hut, opening the door to his room, not convinced he was going anywhere.

"A few days. Or in all honesty, we might not return."

Hut had verve and daring, but this, at last, was too much. "I'll call both ilon, but I don't think I'll be going with you."

They hurried down the corridor, through the warm entryway, and out the front door.

As Hut closed the door, his mother turned over in her sleep. Half-awake, she felt sadness and loss deep in her heart. It must have been a dream, she told herself, and fell into a fretful slumber until dawn. And with each awakening for unnumbered mornings to come, emptiness and melancholy would return to her anew.

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