April announced itself in the night with a healthy helping of rain. Neither of them heard it from within the confines of the cave, but that was okay. It was still raining when the hidden sun rose above a solid cloud cover.

Sam stared dismally out through the empty cabin doorway. Honestly, he’d rather have had snow. Rain meant things were warming up. Not enough to be comfortable, of course, but warm enough that the trees would be waking up and the sap would be running. Never mind trying to get clay to dry enough not to explode in the kiln.

Sings in Morning stood beside him, quietly watching. The rain meant something entirely different to her. To Sings in Morning, rain meant that things would be growing soon. The days would be growing warmer. The Agawam would be moving to the summer camps. Rather than three days from her people, she would be easily eight or ten, alone with the Sam spirit.

She glanced surreptitiously up at it, trying to gauge its mood. Unhappy. She couldn’t imagine why. Was Sam at odds with the water spirits who brought the rain? That could prove to be a problem when the rivers and creeks began to fill with the spring thaws.

There really was no reason to go outside in this, Sam thought to himself. They had plenty of firewood stored in the unfinished cabin. Enough for days, if not weeks. It wasn’t like there weren’t things to do inside.

Well, except for one thing. He looked down at his guest and chucked a thumb in the general direction of the privy pit he’d dug well before her arrival. She blushed and nodded. “Bring cloak,” he told her. “Keep Sings in Morning dry.”

She nodded and ducked back inside to get it. She’d been growing accustomed to using his things pretty quickly, he decided, as she moved past him and out into the downpour. He waited for her return without moving, going through the day’s potential schedule in his head.

She returned after a bit and doffed the poncho, offering it to him without comment. He shrugged into it and moved out into the weather to take care of his business.

While he was out, he swung wide around the camp, inspecting the tripwires and traps he’d laid out around its perimeter. If he hadn’t heard the rain, he might not have heard any intruders. Nothing. That, at least, was good.

He checked the lumber stacks as well, adjusting the brush coverings. Not that it mattered. Humidity was around fifty percent or sixty percent, even without the rain. Nothing was drying out any time soon.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he gave the cabin the hairy eyeball. What had he been thinking with that thing, he wondered. Was he just practicing? Playing? Given the cave, he didn’t really need the cabin. It was no more than a time sink using up time he didn’t have.

No, he admitted to himself. There’d been a reason. He’d wanted a front. Something to present to the neighbors when they finally arrived. Something obviously crafted with some precision. Unfortunately, that reason had vanished with the appearance of the girl. Why was he still working on it again?

He shook out the poncho in the outer cabin upon his return, and ducked into the cave. Oh, yeah, the thought came. Standing up straight inside might have been one of the goals, I suppose.

Sings in Morning already had a fire going, and the cave was a good way towards warming up. She had the pan on the fire and was stirring something around in the pan. Nut flower and jerked meat, he supposed. It was all they had at this point.

He gave a heavy sigh. Soon as the sun went down, he supposed he’d better be off to find something fresh. Meanwhile, he closed the door behind him and moved to hang up the poncho.

“Learn today,” he said once he’d taken his seat. “No build, only learn.”

Sings in Morning nodded without saying anything. She had something on her mind, obviously. Did he pursue it, or wait to see if she volunteered?

She’d salted the... porridge... stew... glop... whatever, he noticed when he’d taken his first bite. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. They’d been together nine days at this point, not counting the night he’d carried her home. He wondered what she’d be up to if he kept her around for a month. Wearing his clothes and using the laptop to keep a diary?

He chuckled softly under his breath. Whatever. He could always get more salt, and some flavor was better than none, right?

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Sings in Morning looked up at the sound and tilted her head, wondering what Sam spirit thought was funny.

They spent the rest of the day in language lessons. He was using the laptop less and less, although he wasn’t yet ready to abandon it. It was, in the event, not as helpful as he’d initially hoped it would be. The language had changed too much over the centuries, or the modern scholars had given themselves more credit than they’d deserved. No way to say which this far removed from the event.

Still, the girl had grown relaxed enough around him that she was willing to talk, and he was picking up syntax and pronunciation from context and repetition, if nothing else. There were words whose meanings he didn’t understand, and might not ever understand, but he learned where they went and how they connected ideas.

He didn’t get to go hunting that night. His announced intent was met with a very frightened negative response. Sings in Morning was very far from her home and her people. She did not want to be left alone in a strange place with no protector at all. What if something happened to Sam spirit? What would she do then? She had no confidence in her ability to either make the trek alone to Tall Trees’ camp or to summon Tall Trees to come for her.

Sam gave it some thought. She had a point. It was one thing to leave her in camp while he went half a mile out to cut wood. This.... His last hunt had gone three days. If he took nothing at all with him, she had maybe a week’s worth of food. All well and good if he came back, but he was intently aware of how dangerous every movement was in the wilderness.

“When Agawam move to summer camp?” he asked.

“Soon,” she said. “Always soon from first rain.”

He frowned at that. “If I not return two days, make smoke,” he tried. “Up on top,” he pointed overhead through the cave ceiling. “Call them here.”

She shook her head violently. “Too far see smoke,” she insisted. “Tall Trees two days other side where Kills Bear meet Sam spirit.”

He scrubbed at his temple with one hand. This was a problem he hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t want to bring her along with him. For one thing, he hunted in the dark, where she’d be blind and undoubtedly very noisy. For another, he hadn’t explained firearms to her yet. He was pretty sure she still considered the spear to be his primary weapon.

“Sam use magic hunt,” he told her quietly. “Scary magic.”

She wasn’t buying. “All Sam magic scary,” she accused.

They went round and round, but it was no use. She wouldn’t be left behind.

The rain had stopped by morning, and the day dawned clear and cold. Sings in Morning made them breakfast while Sam set about gathering and/or stowing his gear. All the while, his mind working.

She was learning more and more of his secrets. More and more of his ‘magic’. This was not ideal.

Oh, it wasn’t like he was planning on holding them forever. His plan all along had been to purchase a wife at some point before he finally set out for the west. Cold blooded, sure, but the math was solid.

He’d need more than just himself to lug everything along, even given the quantity of crap he was hauling would be shrinking as he traveled. Three people, Bob had accused him of packing for, and he hadn’t been wrong. Sam had set himself up for the long game.

Even beyond the carrying of the gear, he’d need somebody to help with things like standing watch or portaging and the like. He’d always known he’d need a companion. Two would be better.

He wasn’t sure how these things worked in this era, of course. He’d read stories, studied some histories. It wasn’t altogether uncommon for widows to be taken in by male relatives, whether theirs or their dead husband’s.

He’d figured a woman, though not as strong as a hunter or warrior, would be less likely to slit his throat in the night to steal his magic once she found out what it really was. Two men was a traveling party. A husband and wife were a team.

Here and now, though, the foolishness of the idea was beating him about the head and shoulders without pity. You didn’t buy people. They weren’t tools. That had been the author in him making decisions based on moving the story along. Now, in the moment, listening to the girl chattering as she cooked, he realized that he’d never have been able to pull it off.

And to top it all off with a nice goddamn’ bow, it suddenly occurred to him, it was April 2nd already, and the ghosts were starting to gather. He clutched the pegs in the wall where he hung his coats and squeezed. Hard. Holding himself physically from going for the laptop and sinking into the familiar despair. There wasn’t time for that. There wasn’t! He wouldn’t... wouldn’t....

Sings in Morning had been poised to call him to eat, but she stopped, her body going rigid. Sam spirit was weeping. She could not see its face, but its shoulders were quaking, and she could hear, faintly, its labored breathing. She quailed at the idea of what might possibly so torture a spirit as powerful as Sam.

She had more than once over the past days lain awake and listened to it thrashing in its bag, crying out for someone or something she could not understand. It had never failed to terrify her. Nor did it now.

Some time passed before Sam got himself under control. He didn’t turn away from the wall even then. Not for a long while. When he did, he struggled to make his expression clear, rubbing at his red eyes with the palms of his hands. “Breakfast?” he asked, ambling towards the fire circle.

“Sam spirit...?” she began, face somber.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled in English. “This just happens sometimes... at this time of year. I’m... I’ll be fine.”

She held out his breakfast, near to tears herself. She’d understood much of what he’d said, but at the same time none of it. While Sam would be amazed at how much of his native tongue she was picking up, she still lacked much of the context.

It was a somber pair who set out that evening, carefully locking the cave behind.