water, nothing

more than a camouflage to enable them to merge with the rest of the

clan.

Physically and mentally, Cadillac was now indistinguishable from a

Tracker. He was articulate, intelligent and his memory was probably

superior even though, like Mr Snow, he could not read or write. There

had been no opportunity to test Clearwater's memory but she had

demonstrated a clear ability to think fast and was probably equally

intelligent. It was incredible. They were - they were just like real

people!

Clearwater began to sing softly.

Thrusting all thoughts of this astonishing discovery and its

ramifications to the back of his mind, Steve eased the doorflap open,

ducked out and got to his feet with slow-motion movements. To his

heightened senses the rustle of cloth against skin, of boot against

grass, and the'pounding of his heart against his ribs seemed magnified

to deafening proportions. Cadillac must be able to hear him! Must

know he was there! But no. Incredibly, the young wordsmith did not

turn his head, did not budge an inch. He just sat there crosslegged,

his upturned palms resting on his thighs.

Clearwater glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes met Steve's briefly

then she turned back to her task. Running her hand up into Cadillac's

hair, she bent his head forward, and began painting the pattern of

black dye up onto his neck. Hardly daring to breathe, Steve edged

round to the rear of the hut, slipped out under the screen of leaves,

crawled back through the ferns and in under the low branches of the

surrounding pines.

It was fortunate that the sight of the two extra bedding rolls in

Clearwater's hut had reminded Steve that he should proceed with the

utmost caution. Having gone to some lengths to prevent him learning of

Clearwater's presence the M'Calls were bound to have taken steps to

guard her against unwelcome intruders - such as himself. And now that

he had discovered the true nature of their prize exhibit he was in even

greater danger from his shadowy adversaries within the clan. His

impulsive actions had placed him in double jeop. ardy for he knew he

would not rest until he had seen her agmn. But before that could

happen, he had to slip past any guards that might be around and get

back to the settlement before sundown.

Trailcraft was not the Tracker's strong suit but the extra adrenalin

generated by his encounter with Clearwater raised Steve's level of

awareness so that he was able to tune into the sounds of the forest.

His uncanny sixth sense functioned in a way it never had before. He

heard the overground for the first time; was able to distinguish the

rustle of leaves overhead from leaves being crushed underfoot; was able

to differentiate between the shrill cries of birds and the birdlike

calls exchanged by a patrol of Mutes; was able to discern their

movement north along the slope towards him. When the trees opened out

sufficiently for him to proceed on foot he moved silently and swiftly

across and away from their line of advance towards the stream. He

planned to retrace his path down to the edge of the plateau, using the

constant rippling cascade of sound to cover his progress along its bed,

hidden by the wall of ferns on either side. At the tongue-stone where

it began its plunge onto the slope below he would turn right and pick

up one of the trails back to the settlement. After that, his biggest

problem would be trying to pretend that nothing extraordinary had

happened to him.

Reaching the stream, Steve turned right and paused, dropping down

behind cover to check the ground to the south. Nothing moved. His

adrenalin-charged senses noticed that a curious stillness had crept

over the woods but there was no sign of the Mute patrol. It was only

when he was about to plunge through the tangle of ferns lining the bank

that his plans started to unravel. As he rose, and pivoted round,

leaning forward from the waist, he felt a rush of cold air across the

back of his neck and heard a loud zzzjjhonkk.

Glancing round, he banged his forehead against a crossbow bolt embedded

in the tree he had been crouching against. Close I If he had been a