As time passed Meleys rest. Half in and half out, with a single ear flicking and turning at each heavy breath, a kick of rock away, a grunt of hard labor. She would be a fool not to listen for the closeness of his footfalls, should the slave decide to turn teeth on the old mother and make a break for it at last.

A single eye would open every once in awhile and when all was said and done, she roused herself slowly with a groan from the ground. It looked good. This slave was not a fool, he learned quick, despite how foolish he had been when they met. A foolishness which cost lives. Now he helped in the bringing of new lives.

Good. She now said the word allowed, making heavy steps past Aiman and into the den opening. It would be fitted with the remnants of caribou in time - pelts, hooves, antler, claw. For now, it was a den built by a slave, but it would do.

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