Mara and Dann

"What on earth could that have been?" said the woman, and he answered, "Probably the ancestor of our horse. They were three times as big." He went on standing there, with the broken ribs curving over him, the moon making another shadow cage with a blotch in it that was his shadow, lying near.

"Don't forget where this place is," said the woman to Mara. "We'll do our best to come back, but with things as they are who knows..." And she stopped herself from going on, thinking she would frighten Mara. Who was thinking, That means she doesn't know how frightening all the other things she has said were. And how could Mara remember where the bones were when she didn't know where she was going?

"Come on," said the woman, "we must hurry."

But the man didn't want to leave. He would have liked to go on poking about among those old bones. But he came out from the ribs of the ancient horse and lifted up Da

Soon it was dry underfoot. They were back in the dryness that Mara knew. She could hear the singing beetles hard at it in the trees. She felt her tunic: dry. The mud on her legs and feet was dry. Soon they would all be thirsty again. Mara was already a bit thirsty. She thought of all that water they had left and longed for it. Her skin felt dry again. The moon was getting its late look, and was going down the sky.

It was hot. Everything was rustling with dryness: grass, bushes, a little creeping wind. Then, ahead, was a Rock Village, and the man said to the little boy, "Don't make a sound," and the woman said to Mara, very low, "Quiet, quiet," and they were ru

"Come in," said this new woman in a whisper. And pushed the children inside, and followed them, and pulled the door across in its groove.

They were inside a room, like the other rock room, but this was bigger. In the middle was a table made of blocks of stone, like the other. Around it were stools made of wood. On the wall was a lantern, the same as the ones that were used in storerooms or servants' rooms, which burned oil.

On the walls too were lamps of the kind that went out by themselves when the light was bright enough and came on when it was dark, and dimmed and lightened as the light changed; but these globes were broken, just like the ones at home. It had been a long time since these clever lamps had worked.

The woman was saying, "And now, before anything else, what is your name?"

"Mara," said the child, not stumbling over it.

And now the woman looked at the little boy, who did not hesitate but said, "My name is Da

"Good," she said. "And my name is Daima."

"Mara, Da

And now, the way Daima looked them over made Mara examine herself and her brother. Both were filmed with dust from the last bit of walking and there were crusts of mud all up their legs.

Daima went next door and came back with a wide, shallow basin made of the metal Mara knew never chipped or broke or bent. This was put on the floor. Mara took off Da

Daima poured half a cup of water from a big jug, this time made of clay, and gave it to Mara to give to Da

Mara knew this carefulness with water so well there was no need to ask. When Da

The two children stood naked. Daima took the tunics they had taken off to the door, slid it back a little and shook them hard. In the light from the wall lamp that fell into the dark they could see dust clouds flying out. Daima had to shake the tunics a long time.

Then they went back over Da

Now Daima asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," said Mara. The little boy said nothing. He was nearly asleep, where he stood.

"Before you go to sleep remember something," said Daima, bending down to him. "When people ask, you are my grandchildren. Da

On the rock table Daima had put a bowl with bits of the white stuff Mara had eaten yesterday, but now it was mixed with green leaves and some soup. Mara ate it all, while Daima watched.

Then Mara said, "May I ask some questions?"

"Ask."

"How long will we be here?" And as she asked, again, she knew the answer.

"You are staying here."

Mara was not going to let herself cry.

"Where are my father and mother?"

"What did Gorda tell you?"

Mara said, "I was so thirsty while he was telling me things, I couldn't listen."

"That's rather a pity. You see, I don't know much myself. I was hoping you could tell me." She got up, and yawned. "I was awake all night. I was expecting you sooner."

"There was a flood."

"I know. I was up there watching it go past." She pointed to the window, which was just a square hole in the wall with nothing to cover it or stop people looking in. It was light outside: the sun was up. Daima pointed through it, past some rock houses to a ridge. "That's where you came. Over that ridge is the river. Not the place you crossed, but the same one higher up. And beyond that is another river — if you can call them rivers now. They are just waterholes." Then she took Mara by the shoulders and turned her round so that she was facing into the room. "Your home is in that direction. Rustam is there."