Zana watched, her heart frozen in her chest, as Peet stretched out on top of Galen and reached for Alan - at least that was what she thought he might be doing. From her position, she couldn't really see what her friends were doing, and she... and she wasn't really sure if she had the nerve to come any closer and watch...

... she was still grabbing the horses' reins, her palms burning from the force of the leather whipping through her hands before she had managed to stop the panicked beasts. Alan's daring... insane, what was he thinking!... maneuver would've been in vain if she had allowed them to race over the edge of the dissolving road in their frenzied flight.

Zana hastily wrapped the lines around the horses' forelegs and forced her own wobbly legs towards Peet and Galen, who were still prone in the mud. They'd need her help to drag Alan back onto the road, before the road itself would vanish-

And then Peet shouted something, and lunged, and he and Galen were suddenly toppling head-first into the-

Zana jumped forward without thinking and grabbed kicking legs, one human, one simian; threw herself back, slipping in the soapy mud, landing hard on her behind, and then everything was a jumble, Peet and Galen scrabbling, shouting, and then Galen struck out, and Peet went down, suddenly silent.

Galen blinked, mouth open, looking afraid. Then his eyes searched hers, huge and dark... probably like her own; Zana felt as if he had knocked the breath out of her, just as he had done with Peet.

"He, he wanted to jump after him..." Galen managed to say. His voice wavered as if he was on the edge of tears.

Jump after him. Jump after him. After...

Alan.

Zana moaned. No, no, Alan, no... that's what Peet had been screaming before, too, her brain reconstructed the human's cries.

They had lost Alan.

No that's not true, that can't be true, this can't be happening...

Peet stirred, and Galen grabbed his wrists and dug his knees into the human's sides. "Listen to me," he said urgently when Peet opened his eyes, "we'll find Alan, but not by jumping after him! Do you hear me? That's pointless, that river at the bottom of the gorge has already carried him downstream, we'll never overtake him by jumping into the river after him, do you understand? Peet!"

Peet was staring up into his face, and Zana wasn't sure if he had even understood Galen's words - maybe he was still too dazed from that strike against his temple. But she was hanging on Galen's words, desperately clinging to the hope these words had stirred in her. We'll find Alan. We'll find him.

"He'll be washed ashore somewhere," Galen was saying, "we'll find a path down to the riverbanks and follow the river downstream. We will find him, there's no need to attack Zana and me."

Attack- Peet had attacked Galen? But why-

"You," Peet said. His voice was rough, and he sounded choked, but his eyes were dry.

Baleful.

"You let go. I saw it. You let go of his hand." Peet's face was reddening again.

Galen froze for a moment. Then he shook his head. "He slipped, Peet, his hand was slippery from the mud. I..."

But Peet kept glaring up at him, and now an angry tear was slipping from the corner of his eye. "You let him fall to his death. You let go. You let go..."

"I swear to the Mothers, I didn't let go," Galen protested, but Zana could hear the resignation in his voice. Peet wasn't ready to believe in the blind randomness of muddy hands and failing strength. It had to be intentional - the dark intention of an ape.

Oh Peet...

The fight seemed to have drained from him with those words, though; when Galen got up and pulled him to his feet, he didn't resist or slap him away. The men crawled to the edge of the crumbling road and stared into the deep; when they returned to her, their faces were grim. Zana didn't dare to ask how far down Alan had fallen. She didn't want to know - he had to have survived. He had to be alive!

Galen bent down to pick up her backpack and handed it to her, before strapping on his own and reaching for his doctor's bag and his purse - the two items that had cost them those precious moments... had cost Alan those precious moments that would've allowed his escape.

But she couldn't blame Galen. These things were the cornerstones of their new life; without the money and his medical equipment, their journey would've been over just as certain as it was for Alan-

Stop thinking like that! He isn't dead! He can't be!

Peet had nothing to pick up but Betsy, the only gun that hadn't gone over the edge together with the wagon. Everyone still had their handgun, but their ammunition was now down to the bullets that were already in the weapons. While Peet loosened the fetters around the horses' legs, Zana tried to calculate what else they had saved from obliteration: water bottles and rations of dried fruits, nuts, and leaves; clothes, a blanket, flintstone, steel, and tinder, rope, her lock picks, Galen's scrolls...

And the Book. And maybe Alan could still be with them, if Galen hadn't gone back a second time to retrieve it.

If Peet was entertaining the same thought, he didn't say it aloud; he grabbed Ahpahchee's reins and dragged the horse down the road without looking back. Galen fumbled with Tala's reins, looking miserable. Maybe he had realized in the meantime that it had been his obsession with Zaius' cursed Book that had cost Alan his… time to jump off the wagon.

When they rounded the next bend in the road, Ahpahchee was waiting for them, his reins hastily hitched to a crippled tree on the side of the road, while Peet was nowhere to be seen. After a moment of stunned immobility, Galen handed Tala's reins to Zana and walked along the edge, searching for Peet's tracks. He found them a moment later, and waved for her to come.

"He went down here." Galen pointed down the slope.

Zana peeked over the edge; she could see the holes where Peet's feet had sunk into the mud. Here and there, long flat marks showed where he had lost his footing and had slid down a bit of the way.

"It's too steep for the horses," Galen mused. "That's why he left Ahpahchee on the road."

Zana stared down the wooded path. "Well, he can't go searching for Alan all on his own," she decided. "He can't be left unsupervised, not in his current state."

"His current state?" Galen murmured.

Zana ignored that comment. "You need to go after him," she said resolutely. "I'll take the horses and meet you at the riverbank."

Galen gaped at her. "There is only wilderness all around us, Zana," he protested. "How do you think you'll find us again? And what if there's robbers-"

"I still have my handgun," Zana interrupted him. "And if you don't climb down there, I will. We just lost Alan, Galen, for a book - I don't want to lose Peet, too. Besides, you promised him to find Alan." You promised it to both of us.

She gestured down the slope. "And Alan doesn't have much time. I bet the water in that river is icy."

Galen flinched at her mention of the Book, but he didn't move. "Zana... there is something you should know."

She sighed. She didn't want to lose any more time with talking. "There is a lot I should know, but neither you nor Alan trusted me enough to tell me."

He winced again, but met her gaze. "I told Peet the truth when I said that I didn't let go of Alan. But I didn't tell him the whole truth." He paused and turned his head to gaze down into the treetops beneath them. "Alan didn't slip through my hand because his wrist was muddy. He slipped because he let go." He looked back at her. "He gave up, Zana. He just stopped fighting."

It took her a moment before she found her voice again. "How can you say that? Alan would never... he'd never give up! He wants to go home to his family, he's been searching for a way home ever since I met him!"

Galen averted his gaze. "So you think I let him fall to his death, too?"

Zana drew a deep breath. "Of course I don't think that! But if Alan let go, it was to save you and Peet from falling into that canyon with him." She grabbed his arm. "You must find him, Galen! He cannot just... vanish like that!"

Galen nodded and began to climb down the narrow path between the trees without uttering another word.

Zana stood in the middle of the road as if her feet had been bolted to the ground, valiantly resisting the despair that was rising up like a dark wave and threatened to crest over her. The rain was getting stronger again, the drops pounding on her waxed robe; it was feeding the river down in the valley, and the river would continue to swell, getting faster and deadlier by the atseht.

Alan had... had let go. Zana refused to believe that he had wanted to give up, as Galen had said, but... She had seen a terrible devastation in Alan's eyes - the eyes of a man who had survived a great conflagration, but had lost everything dear to him in it.

She should have talked to him, made him talk to her... or she should've talked to Galen, forced him to finally tell her what had happened to Alan in Etissa. But she had put it off, telling herself that she was respecting the human's boundaries, something immeasurably precious in a world that didn't even acknowledge that a human should have boundaries to his simian masters in the first place.

Or maybe she had put it off because she didn't feel remotely equipped to help him, or Peet.

With an angry sniffle, Zana mounted Tala and unhitched Ahpahchee from his shrub. Peet and Galen would find Alan, and he'd be alive. And she wouldn't put off taking care of her humans any longer, no matter if she felt up to the task or not. There would be no 'later' anymore - it wasn't as if the string of crises would ever end, anyway. There was no point in waiting for that mystical 'normal life' they would have in the North. They already were in the North, and their lives had only gotten worse, not better!

She gently urged Tala onwards, praying for a village to turn up in that valley. But even more fervently, she prayed for Alan to turn up down there.


The weather was uniquely unsuited for a walk, Zatis had told his young ward before grabbing an umbrella and hurrying after him; therefore, the young Chimp had chosen a path that was uniquely unsuited for a walk with an umbrella. Maybe his teacher would tangle up in the underbrush, and he'd have this day for himself.

Besides, he liked walking along the river.

He tried his best to ignore the old Orangutan behind him who was gently freeing his umbrella - yet again - from the low-hanging branches of an alder tree, and swept his gaze over the white foam of the river instead. This time of the year, nobody came out here, which suited him just fine. He wasn't in the mood for talking today.

"What a bristly tree the alder is," his mentor murmured behind him. "And yet, it has its hidden talents, and is aiding us in secret. It reminds me a bit of you, young Ennis."

"I don't have any hidden talents," the boy muttered without turning around.

"Since they are hidden, you wouldn't know about them, would you?" Zatis said gently. "But I have no doubt that there is much talent slumbering in the depths of your soul, waiting to be discovered. These years of your life are ripe with opportunity, with the joy of exploration..."

If that was true, Ennis thought sourly, why wasn't he allowed to explore the valleys and mountains around his town? Why did he always need a bodyguard, either a bored watchman who'd haul him back to the estate after a meager atseht, or Zatis, who was patient enough, but insisted on turning every hike into a lesson... or a philosophical lecture?

It was as if he was still a toddler, Ennis grumbled in the privacy of his mind. As if his father had never realized that he had grown up and didn't need a babysitter around anymore. His father claimed it was because the mountains were teeming with wild humans, eager to tear out a lone ape's throat, 'and other unsavory folk', though he hadn't elaborated, and Ennis still didn't know who they were supposed to be. Maybe Gorillas.

Maybe his father really hadn't realized that he was older than the last time he had surfaced from his office. As the District Chief, his father basically lived in that office - he seemed to only come out to scold Ennis for grades that were below expectation, or to quiz him on some long-ago (and long-forgotten) lesson from Zatis. Ennis couldn't decide which he hated more.

Yes, his father hadn't realized he wasn't three anymore. Ennis was pretty convinced of that by now. After all, his father hadn't even wished him a happy birthday today. He probably hadn't even noticed that today was his birthday.

He bent down to pick up a stone, and hurled it into the river.

"Hopefully, no fish was harmed by this latest addition to the riverbed," Zatis joked.

Ennis half expected the old ape to regale him with a story of how the ancestors had caught fish with their bare hands - or by throwing stones - but the Orangutan's umbrella had tangled up again, and that gave him the opportunity to put some more distance between himself and his chaperone while Zatis was fighting with the shrub.

He lengthened his stride when he saw the beach glowing white through the thicket of alders and willows. It was just a pile of rubble, actually - stones the shape and color of eggs, smoothed by the ferocious power of the river, and accumulated over time in the quieter waters of a gentle curve of the riverbed - but it was wide, and flat, and perfect for throwing stones into the water... and the fish would just have to duck.

He jumped over the dead trunk of an uprooted willow tree-

...and froze, his heart beating wildly even before his eyes had recognized what he was looking at.

A dead human.

It had to be dead - it was lying face-down half in, half out of the water, unmoving save for tiny jerks as the current tugged at its legs. Ennis swallowed and threw a glance over his shoulder. Zatis had still not caught up to him.

He jogged to the prone form and stared down at it.

It was a big male - tall and muscular, its fur the color of a bushcat. It must've fallen into the river somewhere upstream, and had been carried along by the torrent until it had washed up here. Too bad that it had drowned - he would've loved to own a tan-colored human. Ennis bent down to touch the human's fur. It was wet, and cold, and...

... and the beast was trembling under his fingers. Shivering... shivering from the cold.

Ennis yanked his hand back as if he had burnt it.

It was alive!

"Ennis! Step back! It could be dangerous!"

Zatis was standing by the toppled willow, his saggy face radiating firmly suppressed alarm. "There are wild humans in these mountains, and this here looks like one!"

"It's unconscious," Ennis called back. "At first I'd thought it was dead." He bent down again and rolled the human on its back. It didn't wake up, its head lolling to one side. A deep gash ran across its forehead, and the skin was raw and oozing blood on its chin and cheekbones, and... everywhere, basically. Ennis imagined being thrown into a huge washtub with a bagful of river rocks, and then whirled around with them...

That must've hurt a lot more than a whipping.

Maybe it had also broken bones. Or a broken skull. But it was still breathing.

A blue-tinted shadow fell over him, and the rain stopped pelting his robe - Zatis had finally left his place by the willow and was staring down at the human from under the sky-colored canopy of his umbrella. "If it's not a wildling, it's most probably an escaped slave," he said. "In either case, I don't want you to be near it when it comes to."

"It's alive, vetes," Ennis said. "And it's bleeding all over. We can't just leave it here."

"I'll alert the police as soon as we're back in town," Zatis assured him. "They can take it to Doctor Ropal, and he can-"

"That'll take much too long," Ennis interrupted him impatiently. "It's already shaking from the cold, and the rain is getting worse. It'll be dead before the guards turn up here."

"Well, it..." Zatis heaved a sigh. "What do you suggest? I can't leave you alone with it here in the wilderness. What if it wakes up and attacks you?"

Ennis snorted. "It's half-dead. It won't attack me."

"And what if the rest of its pack is roaming these woods?" Zatis slowly shook his head. "No, young Ennis, you will not stay here all by yourself."

"Then I'll go back to get our cart and drive out here as far as possible, and you wait here," Ennis suggested.

This was met with the same vigorous refusal. "Send you back alone? Five miles through the underbrush, all alone-"

"Mothers, Zatis!" Ennis exploded. "I'm not a baby anymore!"

"Don't invoke the Mothers in a fit of rage," Zatis scolded him. "Those are your father's orders, and I will honor them. Besides, I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you..."

"Fine!" Ennis snapped, feeling his last thread of patience unravel. "Then you'll carry the human. We won't need a cart, we won't need to wait for the police, and I won't get eaten by humans! Everyone's happy!"

"Why do you care so much about that beast?" Zatis sounded honestly confused.

Ennis stared down at the pale, bloodied face, and shrugged. "It's my birthday, and..." He stopped to get his voice under control. "Nobody remembered it - Mother hasn't written..."

"Maybe the mail was delayed in this weather," Zatis murmured.

Ennis shook his head. "It's been the same weather for weeks. She just could've sent it earlier. And Father hasn't even come out of his office." He tore his lips through his teeth.

"This is my birthday present, Zatis." He looked up at his old teacher, daring him to disagree. "From the Mothers. Nobody thought of giving me something, so they did."

"The human may not even survive this day," Zatis pointed out. His voice was gentle, as if he was trying to soften the blow of his words.

Ennis rocked back on his heels and defiantly held his teacher's gaze. "No, it'll live. It'll live because I say so.

"It'll live for me."