Adri had grown slow and tired. No beast took her, and when her teeth were gone her daughters boiled meat and seeds to make them soft for her. Still she died. Shem struck the earth and clawed at the wind, howling as if she fled him, until Ler made a net of words to hold her memory.

Adri had been old when she died, so many seasons gone by that she had forgotten their count. And Shem remembered when she was a cub, kept from the fire she reached for.

He felt bare hide on his scalp and saw the creases in his skin. The young females did not come to his bed, and he knew why, and regretted it less than he thought he should. He was older now than his father Walam ever got. He doubted Sefam still lived either, or any of the People he had known.

Like dried leather his body was stiff and didn't want to bend. He found a place on the beach where the day-eye could see him, but bleach-wood nudged the wind aside.

Ler was beside him, as always. He smelt pain. When he looked, the sea was in Ler's eyes. Shem didn't know why. He whined inquiry.

"Ler is afraid."

Most of the clan answered Shem's signs with sign. Ler remembered that Shem understood the mouth signals, even if he couldn't shape them. Shem looked his question.

(Afraid of what?)

His hands closed, as if they had stones to throw. Shem would destroy it, whatever it was. Ler was not meant to fear.

"A dawn we track but haven't found. The day this people must try to live without your guard."

He picked up two neighboring stones, and tossed them apart.

Shem blinked. Did the boy (still almost beardless after so many seasons, longhanded and heavy-headed as a pup) not understand? He looked at the sleeping cat, and the wolf guarding it with ears back and tail tucked; the animals Ler never saw.

He picked up a stone.

(Day.) he signed.

He waved his hand at the wide beach and all the uncountable stones.

(All days. I guard.)

The cat watched him, its blue eyes open. He knew his promise was seen.

Ler showed his teeth, with his lips pulled up -- not challenge but the sign that he knew he was stronger than any enemy. He ran down to the surf, and came back with water cupped in his hands. Carefully he poured it over the dry sandy rock Shem held. Wet, the stone gleamed like a shell or polished bead.

(Day.) he signed with dripping hands.

Then he dragged Shem to his feet and pulled him down to stand in the surf. The water crawled up the shingle, licking all the stones bright.

(All days. I guard. We guard.)

Shem heard the wolf's howl. Ler was deaf to it, as to so much else. Yet without sign or sound, Shem knew he was understood.

He caught the young man about the shoulders and began combing his head for lice.

(The last chapter of an unwritten cross-over between The Sentinel and Clan of the Cave Bear. I usually abandon stories after the first chapter; it's sufficiently unusual for me to abandon one after the last that i went ahead and posted this. At least you're not left with a cliff-hanger!)