A tearing, screeching sound bit at Dion's ears. The wolfwalker cried out.

The Aiueven's voice was horrible in its own shock and anger. "Do you (stigma/curse) me too? What (life-debt) must I owe you?"

Dion stared up from the ice. Her bloody hands clutched her belly. "If you

are my mother, then this is also your child."

"(Denial)."

"But we are bonded-I can feel you in my thoughts."

"(Affirmation/distress)."

"I felt your grief; it was the same as mine, multiplied by thousands."

"(Grief/loss) cannot be replaced. The child-debt is my future. Without it, I

am as one who is dead, but still in the land of the living."

Dion felt a deep shudder catch her. She had not stopped her bleeding. She

tried to focus on her own tissues, but she didn't have the strength. "Feel me," she said hoarsely. "Feel this child. It is yours now as much as mine."

"There can be no (love/future) like that between us."

"It is already there."

"(Denial)!"

"Feel it. You are part of me now. I must love you as myself."

"(Denial)!" This time it was stronger. The yellow, slitted eyes glared in the

back of her head.

"Is it better to be without a child-without a future-for the sake of empty pride?"

"Generations cannot be shared."

"With us, that isn't true."

The alien hesitated. One of its slender arms seemed to reach out, and Dion no longer knew if she saw it or if it was in her mind. Cold touched her

belly, and she knew that the shock was growing. The numbness spread faster now. "My child," she cried out. She sank to the ground.

The alien mother seemed torn. "You have a (choice/future): Live or die."

"I want to live," Dion whispered.

The Aiueven was silent for a moment. "You (bind/condemn) us both," she

said finally, softly.

The alien mother stretched out a wing, and a clawlike hand touched Dion's frigid skin. Then the alien mother made a sound, and some part of Dion's mind realized that the sound was real- in her ears. Her mind began to blur.

A hot vibration started deep in her bones, and crawled out to her muscles and skin.

White fur brushed her face. Blue and gray tones washed through her

thoughts, and the sounds were loud without sound. Wolf minds blended with alien thoughts; the howling became alien tones. Something shifted inside her, as though water rushing through a broken dam was suddenly slowed and stopped. Pain sagged momentarily. Then it faded away.

Dion stared at her (mother). She could hear the echo of Hishn and a hundred other wolves. She could feel the ice against her parka; she could feel the cold again in her guts. But the life of her child was strong, and the numbness was gone. She touched her belly. It was closed. There was an ache inside and along the gash, but the flesh was smoothly seamed.

Whose-wings-make-the-grass-flow eyed her from the icy cave. "The debt is

paid," she said.Wait. Dion tried to speak. A shiver hit her, and it took a moment to realize that it was the cave, not herself, that shook. "Wait," she projected. "Take me back. Take me back to my (family/friends/barrier). Then, the debt is paid."

"I will not reach (next-home/den) in time. This den will collapse as the rock

pressure releases, and the storm now gathers outside."

"Then take me as far as honor demands."

The alien seemed to stare at her for eternity. The slender arm shifted away

from its wing to point at Dion's belly. "This (child) is mine, as much as you are now mine."

"Aye," Dion breathed.Abruptly, the birdwoman clutched her. Automatically, it grasped her close to its body, then shivered and tried to hold her away so that there was no body-to-body contact. But as its wings gathered power and it lifted from the cave, it had to draw Dion close again to fly through the icy opening. Ahhh... It tried to hide its loathing-the mental voice was clear. But its horror mixed with something else, and the alien did not let go.

Through the next cavern and the next, up into thicker ice... The caves grew cold, then frigid as the walls became solid ice, then began to glow blue- green again with natural light instead of glowing fungus. Massive icicles lay on the floors of the caverns-and more shook down as they flew through -and the walls blurred as the depths of the mountain collapsed. But the alien mother swept like a lance, driving toward the outside air till she burst out into the sky between the ice spires. There was a moment of blinding

glare, then the shades of white and gray that made up land and sky saturated

her sight.

Air sucked into Dion's mouth. She barely glimpsed the depths they dropped into before the wind caught the birdwoman's wings and they swooped sickeningly to a more even flight. A jagged ridge rose up tike twisted teeth, then fell away as if it had snapped at, then missed, their feet. The slash in her parka hung open, and the blood there froze in seconds into a rock-hard slab. They swooped sickeningly lower, across a steep expanse of snow, and the wind bit into her body, then her frozen cheeks, like a hundred tiny mouths.

In her mind, Dion could see the ring of light that seemed to surround the Aiueven. She could feel the mental laboring of the creature against the rising winds, and the rock-hard strength of its physical body as it hugged her to its breast. She could feel the strain grow like grief. Her mind flashed to Aranur, to Danton, to Hishn, and the gray tide in the back of her head swelled as it sensed her.

Wolfwalker! The howl hit her, and she felt the dim strength of their bond. It was full and rich, even at that distance, and it made the strain of the Aiueven seem thin. Tentatively, she touched the alien's mind. "Mother?"

"(Child-debt/youngling)." But there was still horror in its voice, and it tried to keep its mental distance.

"You are straining. Take strength from me. From the wolves."

"(Denial)."

The alien swooped across a rounded shoulder of the mountain, and Dion swallowed against her stomach as it rose into her throat. The wind, which

had seemed strong before, hit them like a sledge. The Aiueven strained, and

Dion could feel its strength pouring out as it held her weight aloft.

They flew back along a ridge where the clouds boiled on the other side of the rock. Dion's weight dragged the alien down. The Aiueven's breath became labored, and the power that seemed to cling to its wings faded to a dull glow. As they dropped lower into the edge of the glacier valley, the wind surged, then struck violently. They were buffeted back up, then slammed down toward the ice. The Aiueven mother was grim.

"I can go no farther," she said, stalling so that they fell quickly. "You must

go the rest of the way on your own."

The alien struck the ground heavily, as if she did not have the control to land well, and Dion hit the ice hard. She rolled meters across bumpy, sharp ice, and lay for a moment breathless. Slowly, she crawled to her knees. She hugged her arms tightly around her. "Mother," she whispered.

Kiuntihin'kiuntihin'kiun, the other sent. The Aiueven leaped into the air. The cold, biting wind caught the mother-creature and lifted her so that she shot up, then away, fading into the swirling white. The sense of power was weaker now, as though it dissipated as the distance between them grew.

Dion didn't notice her hand stretching out. "Mother," she cried out. "What

Name have you given me? What does my Name mean?"From the distance, the voice returned. It was sharp in her head, in a way that the wolves never were, and it resonated with the focus of alien power. Human, it returned. You have no right. We are bound, but not so tightly yet. This (stigma/horror) may still fade.

"You Named me," Dion called steadily, light-headed and almost numb.

"You (mother-debt) me. And we share this child and our futures." Whose-wings-make-the-grass-flow hesitated, and Dion could almost feel the expenditure of energy that the alien put forth. The winds had strengthened, even in the few minutes that lay now between them, and the front that was moving across the valley thickened and darkened the sky. The blue-gray voice, when Dion heard it, was quiet. (Mother-debt/childdebt). The Naming is between us. There was a pause, as if the alien gathered her grief and set it aside, then put Dion in that mental space. It has (bright/ dreams) images, the alien sent finally. It has (grief/strength) meaning. It is (constant/inevitable) and (changes/ softens/sharpens) its (edge/meaning) with time. It is The-winter-that-cuts-the-ice.

"Mother," Dion whispered.

The debt is paid, (youngling/Human). We are bound, but your (life/future) is your own.

Dion stared into the sky. She could no longer see the alien. The dry flakes that began to whirl into her eyes made her dizzy, but she still strained to find that speck of motion. "You bind me to you," she cried out. "Then you give me up?"

You are Human.

"And part of you."

(Denial). I am (unwhole/destroyed).

"You are more than you were before. How can that be destruction?" The wind cut viciously, as if in rebuttal, and Dion hunched her shoulders against it. She stared across the snow: It was a massive expanse, and she was alone upon it. It had looked smooth at a distance, but close up it was covered with humps and ridges where shrubs lay hidden beneath the surface, and rocks and old ice created irregular lines. Far in the distance, kays away across the expanse, there were dark patches of trees. There were wolves somewhere there-they were a faint din compared to the Aiueven- and Kiyun and Tehena were with them. But the clouds were hunkering down even now, and the tiny, dry snow was coming down harder.