The young tusker returned three times to the same tree.
Chaska noticed first. She had been marking their route by trunks, an undertaking Suth watched with such evident amusement that the courier finally demanded an explanation.
“You might as well draw the passengers on a boat,” Suth said.
“The boat is still somewhere.”
“Yes. So are the passengers.”
Chaska closed her book. Then she opened it again and drew the tusker.
It was a small member of the family, which meant that its shoulder came above her waist. Its tusks had barely curved past its lips. A dark fringe of moss divided across its back, and mud had dried in overlapping plates behind one ear. Each time the adults browsed onward, it hurried back to a shallow hollow near the tree’s base and stuck its snout inside.
Lilt watched from the edge of the gap. Her left margin lifted. Chaska touched two fingers to her neck and looked toward the more open ground ahead.
