Hard Biter had been gone days now, and life for the !A!amo carried on.

Brooks found himself impressed by the ways that these people accepted death in their midst. They mourned, and then they continued.

He saw in their psyche no sign of the stress this life must bring to them; their bodies bore the scars, the aging from endless struggle and toil. But they remained themselves in mind, without blemish.

Post-traumatic stress was likely too strong a negative to exist in a people who lived day-to-day, he thought. It made him wonder what illnesses civilization had created, even as it had cured the more obvious ones caused from without.

Without technology, sickness for the !A!amo was a constant threat. They understood cleanliness to an extent, cleaning themselves and their children regularly.

But the deeper causes were both unknown to them and they were nearly helpless once a sickness took hold.

A week after the funeral, two of the children suffered from fevers that they could not cure.

Cool River collected herbs, making a paste which she spread on their heads and wings.

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"It will draw out the fire," she explained. "But whether they live or die is up to the spirits."

She refused to look at Brooks as she said it, but he did wonder if it was a request. So far, despite the gift of his scanner that he frequently saw them using to search for tubers - and they had figured out how to tell it to search for other edibles - they had asked for nothing from him.

"These fires of the mind are common this time of season," Knows the World told him. "It claims our youngest often. This year, we are lucky it is only two."

Brooks called upon Y to intervene.

"Of course, Captain," Y told him. "If you wish, I can summon a team to come and give the !A!amo full physicals as well."

"I don't think so," Brooks told him. "I want you to visit the children when no one else is around. Give them what they need, and they will simply believe it is good fortune."

Y hesitated. "Captain, this is an opportunity to show to the !A!amo that with our medicine we can-"

"I understand what it is," Brooks said. "Do it as I instructed."

Y complied. The sickened children, Causes Trouble and Sweet Child, recovered.

Thanks was given to the spirits, and to the strength of the children themselves. Their parents doted upon them as they recovered.

But he had a feeling they attributed it to him.

The mystique was a powerful thing, he noticed. He seemed to be avoided for some days after. Sometimes, small groups of the !A!amo would be talking to each other in hushed voices, and grow quiet when he was close.

Their ears were sensitive, and even his equipment could not pick up these conversations.

They did not seem to fear him, or to be angry, but the lack of communication made it difficult to progress his trust with them.

There was nothing to do but wait.