Valleroy nodded. They'd heard the hunting screams of puma during the night. And a broken leg would be the end of them both. They might be alone, but they were still in danger and far from home.

They waded into the pass using long branches to test the footing. The snow flowed ahead of them like smoothly undulating sand dunes. If only they'd had skis or snowshoes they could have flown through the pass instead of plodded!

Grimly, Valleroy concentrated on finding solid footing. About halfway through the pass, he did discover a ridge that jutted up under the snow. It provided a fair walking surface compared to wallowing knee-deep in wet snow, so they took to it single file.

At long last, they came out into the sunshine. It was like waking from a nightmare. There was still enough warmth left in the late autumn sun to melt the snow, leaving ragged patches of rock and grass showing on the hillside that fell away at their feet. Even though it was late afternoon, the air was still warming up. Valleroy was sure most of the snow would be gone by morning.

They paused only long enough to catch their breath and then continued down the treacherous slope. There was no path, but it was much easier picking their way down visible rock rather than up melting snowdrifts. Valleroy was wet to the skin and so cold it hurt, but his spirits soared. Even the raw patch of skin where his frozen pants leg had rubbed all day didn't seem to hurt so much any more. They were going to make it, one way or another! >

Near the bottom of the hill, Klyd turned to look back. "What are you so happy about?"

Grinning, Valleroy closed the gap to stand beside the channel. Shadows were lengthening into twilight already. "I think that's the worst morning I ever... Klyd, look!"

Following the Gen's finger, Klyd spotted the apple tree with its load of rosy ripe apples. "Come on!" called Valleroy, sprinting. But even with his head start, Valleroy arrived only just in time to watch Klyd swarm up the tree trunk and shake it mightily. The ripe fruit showered down in a thundering cascade.

Valleroy caught one that seemed least bird-pecked and bit into it. It was sour and frostbitten, but still the best apple he'd ever tasted. Before long, Klyd had joined him, seated amid heaps of fruit and selecting the best to pile onto his blanket. "We'll dine tonight on nature's bounteous gifts!"

Valleroy laughed. "Sectuib Nashmar was right. Zeor has a poet for Sectuib!'

"This poet is slightly frostbitten at the moment. Do you suppose you could perform one more miracle and find us some dry firewood?"

Suddenly grave, Valleroy measured the angle of the descending sun and then surveyed the hillside. At first sight, it had looked so invitingly dry, but he could now see that every patch of soil was sodden from the melting snow. "Let's find a cave. Maybe there'll be some leaves or something inside."

"Maybe there won't be a cave."

"This is the same sort of rock as on the other side of the ridge... and look over there. Holes. One of those must be deep enough..."

Quizzically, the channel said, "I asked for a miracle. I better be careful, what I ask for next. Give me a hand with this blanket."

Together they knotted the corners together to form a crude sling, which they carried on a branch between them. The caves that Valleroy had spotted were several hundred yards west of them and a bit higher up the slope.

That last quarter of a mile uphill seemed much longer than the morning's climb. Valleroy found he ached in every muscle and, when he tried to put his strength into the climb, his limbs trembled with fatigue. At last, Klyd's firm hand helped him up the last rock slide, where he sprawled on the flat ledge in a dwindling patch of sunlight.

If it hadn't been for the channel, Valleroy knew he'd just fall asleep right there and freeze happily to death during the night. But he couldn't give up while Klyd refused to show the slightest sign of fatigue. Gritting his teeth, he humped to his feet. They needed firewood and dry clothes.

Depositing their apples inside the cave, Klyd said, "We're in real luck. No recent occupants to dispute our claim and even some dead leaves for kindling. You make us a fireplace, and I'll prospect for wood."

"No," Valleroy shook his head doggedly. "You'll be in need soon. Save your strength. I'll go."

Cocking his head in politely suppressed amusement, Klyd leaned against a boulder while Valleroy took a few wobbly steps toward a nearby thicket. His trembling legs gave out. He pitched headlong over a fallen log. Before his head hit the ground, the channel was there breaking his fall. "Now that, Naztehr, cost more selyn than merely fetching the wood myself. In order to move that fast, I had to augment to a selyn consumption rate nearly seven times basal."

Angered, Valleroy sat with his elbows on his knees. "Well, you didn't have to augment to save me! I'm not exactly the world's worst tumbler, you know!"

"We can't afford injuries. Your safety is as important to me as my own. Now, will you go see what you can do for a fireplace? Next time, you might go head over heels down the mountain and never be heard from again!"

Stung, Valleroy retorted, "I suppose you couldn't fall?'

"Simes have a better sense of balance and a more reliable kinesthetic sense than Gens."

"I suppose you're not tired either?"

"No, I'm not tired in the same way you are. I am fatigued, yes, and need approaches rapidly now. But I have not been exerting myself beyond normal limits as you have. And I'm not affected so severely by the cold... yet."

Valleroy framed a sarcastic commentary, but checked himself in mid-breath. They both would freeze if they didn't get dry. No sense arguing. "Yes, Sectuib."

"That's better." The Sime headed down the slope to a promising cluster of scrub oaks, apparently unaware that Valleroy resented being told what to do.

Valleroy climbed to his feet and brushed off the clinging mud. He'd almost broken his fool neck, and he was madder at himself than at Klyd's smug, supercilious attitude. After all, he rationalized, the channel had led a very sheltered life. He expected obedience as his rightful due. Valleroy resolved to teach him a lesson... some other time. He vented his anger in dragging a pine bough up to the cave. He used it to sweep all the dead leaves into a heap in the corner leaving a nice, safe rock surface for their fire. Then he stripped all the needles from the bough and wedged it across the top of the cave forming a very neat, impromptu clothesline.

By the time Klyd got back with his first armload of firewood, the tiny alcove was beginning to look like a camp. While Valleroy selected the driest pieces of wood, Klyd brought a second armload. Then they bent to the chore of getting a blaze going. It took five of their remaining matches, but within the hour they had a cheery fire warming their retreat

It was only then that Valleroy began to shiver. Teeth chattering, he said, "I could use something hot to drink! Suppose we could bake some of those apples?"

Smiling lopsidedly, Klyd said, "I'd never have thought of that. But it's a good idea. I'll get some leaves to wrap them in. Meanwhile, get out of those clothes before you catch pneumonia."

While the channel made one last foray out into the gathering dusk, Valleroy fought the instinct that told him wet clothes were warmer than no clothes. Teeth chattering, he managed to strip off his jacket and shirt and hang them over the clothes bar. Then, wrapped in his blanket, which was damp only in spots, he peeled off pants and socks. It wasn't long before he stopped shivering.

"Hugh, guess what I found!"

Valleroy looked up to find the channel approaching the fire, arms loaded. He guessed facetiously, "A pot of steaming coffee?"

"Almost How about some mushroom soup?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Well, a little the worse for the snow, but still mushrooms."

"I hope you know which are edible and which kinds are poisonous."

Mildly offended, Klyd said, "I served an exacting apprenticeship in Zeor's pharmacy. Do you think I'd poison you?"

"Maybe by accident. I'll be honest. I wouldn't know a mushroom from a toadstool."

"Trust me?"

"If you trust you, yes, I guess so. What have we got to lose, anyway?'

Stripping off his wet clothing, Klyd wrapped himself in his blanket and then bent to sort his mushrooms. "Some of these are good for Gens, some are good for Simes. I've got enough to make each of us a pot of soup. I wonder how it would taste with some apples added?"

"To me, it doesn't sound very appetizing."

"That's a Gen for you. No imagination."

Valleroy reared back in indignation, but before he could launch a protest, Klyd laughed. "The Sime taste is as different from the Gen taste as the Sime metabolism is from the Gen metabolism. The Householding kitchens strive to please all and rarely please anybody. That's why Wednesday night is always a party night."

Valleroy thought hard. Wednesday. "Oh, yes!" He snapped his fingers. "I remember. On Wednesday, the Simes eat at the first shift, and the Gens eat at the second. You mean the menu is different?"

"Right. Some of my favorite dishes would send you to the hospital within the hour. Take this little item, for example." He held up the mushroom. "It's a mutant that seems to have appeared at about the same time the first Simes were being born. A good third of the kitchen gardens at Zeor are planted in vegetables that are essential in the Sime diet, but pure poison to Gens. Their existence makes a good argument for the theory that the Simes were an artificially induced mutation that got out of hand."