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movement, but again the stillness of the women soothed any fears and they were soon cropping grass again.
    The other Moon Riders saw them move and followed their lead, each taking six steps forward, so that a wide loose circle was formed about the herd.
    “Sit!” Myrina said.
    They sank smoothly down to the ground and their friends in the distance did the same. They calmly took out their bundles and began to eat the flat grainy bread and small scraps of roast goat meat that they’d managed to save from the night before.
    “Talk,” Myrina ordered. “You can talk now, but do not shout.”
    At the sound of low voices the horses put back their ears and a few tossed their heads, rolling their eyes at the intruders; but as the murmur of voices continued, they lost interest and went back to their grazing.
    Myrina gave the order to move twice more as the sun traveled across the sky, so that as it began to sink in the west a thin line of Moon Riders stretched all around the herd. There was no singing or dancing that evening; the women settled quietly to sleep wherever they were, taking turns to watch through the night.
    They woke early next morning and rose to their feet at Myrina’s signal. Once again they stood very still for a while, then began to move around and chat to each other. Their backs were sore and muscles stiff, still suffering from the bruising of the waves. When Myrina signaled again, some of the women began walking steadily down to the water, pitchers in their hands. The nearest horses skittered away nervously; the stallion snorted at the disturbance, shaking his head from side to side. The blue-black mare came forward, snapping her teeth, but the Moon Riders simply ignored her, unhurriedly filling their pitchers with the clean water, then walked slowly back up the riverbank to join their friends. The beasts settled quickly as they saw the women calmly retreating again.
    That evening there was still no dancing, but they lit small fires. The Moon Riders moved about a little more freely and ate the rest of their food, then stood solemnly in their wide circle while Myrina raised her drinking horn. “We share water with you, four legs,” she said in a deep, singsong voice. “Now we will sing to you.”
    The women began a gentle rhythmic humming that rose and fell in pleasant, soothing tones, almost like a lullaby. The horses raised their heads and pricked up their ears. A few of them cantered about for a while, but the strange music continued and when they saw that no threat came with it, those who’d been disturbed soon settled.
    The low singing continued as darkness fell; gradually it ceased as the women wrapped themselves up as best they could and settled to sleep again.
    “I will get you, Snowboots,” Tamsin promised sleepily. “I will get you and it won’t be long now!”
    As pink fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, the women rose and wandered down to the water, yawning and stretching, ignoring the beasts that stamped about the shallows. This time there was little disturbance among the horses. Kora and the others who had stayed behind at the old camp arrived during the morning, carrying their barrels and precious supplies up through the trees. All those who’d been hurt had recovered enough to walk a little, and Myrina was satisfied that their horse gentling was going well and a sense of order and purpose had returned to the Moon Riders. The one precious sheep was settled in a small corral, well away from the horses.
    Kora stared in wonder at the sight of the powerful beasts calmly cropping grass as the women wandered among them. She watched them, eyes wide, but nervously kept her distance.
    “I made a net from scraps of salvaged rigging,” she told Myrina, ever practical. “I have caught a basketful of mackerel. We may cook them tonight, but then we have little left but one barrel of cherries. Up here there’s nothing but grass. I see very well that you lot can live like horses, but that is