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other group halted, and Ratha saw True-of-voice looking up at her. Other gazes followed his.
    Ratha sat up and lifted her chin, suppressing a strong urge to give her fur a few quick licks. She hoped she looked as impressive to True-of-voice as he did to her.
    While the clan took their places to one side of the sunning rock, Thistle and Quiet Hunter showed the face-tail hunters to the other. Ratha had asked everyone to sit so that she could see faces and forepaws as well as tails and backs. From her perch, she had a good view of the assembly.
    Ratha watched Thistle and noticed that her daughter was moving in an odd, slow, gliding manner, as she sometimes did while in the trance she used to communicate with True-of-voice. Was she already speaking to him through the mysterious song? Was she so deep in her trance that she wouldn’t be able to leave it in time for her part in the display?
    Well, if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be that much of a problem. It was more important to have Thistle-chaser as an interpreter than a participant. But Thistle would be disappointed, and Ratha herself was curious about what her daughter planned to present.
    From atop the sunning rock, the clan leader called, her voice calming and stilling the Named as well as welcoming their guests.
    “We of the Named greet you again on your return visit. We have already shown you some of our ways. Many are like yours, but many are different. Today we will show you how we live by keeping and tending beasts rather than hunting them. It is our hope that what you see here today helps you understand us.” Ratha paused, allowing the two interpreters to convey her meaning to True-of-voice and give his reply.
    It was Quiet Hunter, not Thistle, who raised his voice. “The hearers of the song greet those who preserved True-of-voice. The sharing of ways is awaited with interest.”
    “There is food, if any of your people wish it,” Ratha offered.
    “The song will sate one of its hungers,” the other leader replied through Quiet Hunter. “There is acknowledgment and pleasure.”
    Not quite gratitude, Ratha thought, but perhaps close enough. She wondered if curiosity was one of the song’s hungers. What others did it have?
    She hopped down, approached True-of-voice, and gave him a formal nose touch. His scent was powerful, musky.
    “May the song of the Named well up within,” said True-of-voice, this time through Thistle.
    “May you eat of the haunch and sleep in the driest den,” Ratha answered, giving the ritual greeting of the clan. She waited as Thistle interpreted her words to True-of-voice. Her daughter sat eerily still and silent, her muzzle lifted, her nostrils flared, her eyes distant. How she did so was a mystery to Ratha, but Thistle was clearly communicating with the other tribe’s leader.
    The Named and their guests still took up separate areas. The only mixing so far was between Thistle-chaser and Quiet Hunter, who were now licking one another’s cheeks and talking quietly. They took their places, sitting to each side of True-of-voice. Soon they would be helping him and his people to understand what the clan was showing them.
    Ratha also regained her seat on the sunning rock. She wondered if, even despite the interpreters’ aid, True-of-voice or his people could comprehend the event to come. She always had the frustrating feeling that these folk were far different than the Named. Now, being near, scenting them and able to watch closely and compare them with her clan, she felt the differences intensify.
    It was not a feeling she liked or wanted, at least not the rational part of her. But she could not deny the truth or depth of her feeling.
    Turning back to her own people, she spotted Cherfan, who was already springing up on an outcrop near the sunning rock.
    “Face-tail hunters and song-hearers, you have come here not just to learn but to enjoy as well.” Cherfan’s resonant voice had warmth as well as power. “Are we ready, herding