Bundled up in felt caps and scarves covering half their faces, the married couple come to a stop and cautiously, respectfully, withdraw the bloody beastmeat from their luggage. They drip the blood onto the tree root, and drape the meat atop a branch. Thereafter, they let out a string of perfunctory syllables, ones that even they don't know the meaning of. Not far away, their daughter skips about on her feet. She'd want to hold onto her parents' hands, but today her own hands are occupied. It's her first time headed outdoors with her own weapon, like the grownups do. She remembers how her parents taught her that to take up a weapon is to fight, and fighting demands she be vigilant at all times, so she always keeps her bow in hand, arrow nocked on string. 'We have to teach her these things,' she hears her mother say. 'Teach her how to draw her bow, sharpen her knife, lay her traps. Teach her not to fear, to have the skill to meet any battle... That's the only way she'll survive. There'll come a day when they find out we're Sarkaz. Nowhere accepts the Sarkaz.' 'Listen... you promised me we'd never go back to our old lives.' That's her father's voice. 'And... you promised her. Don't you remember? There was a rainbow that day. You watched as I ran into the forest with a kneeplate, to try and catch it with.' 'She wasn't born yet then... oh, never mind.' Her mother's voice becomes soft, tender. 'I'll teach her, but I'll pray too, even if it's absurd for a Sarkaz to pray for the blessings of Sami. So long as they don't find us deserters...' Their voices gradually fade, for the girl has her attention drawn by a roughly hewn wooden carving to a side of the path. She knows that where it points to will be a hollow filled with wonderful things, and that when her parents run out of something at home, and can think of no solution, they search for hollows like those. She wants a knot in rainbow colors, and so she follows the pointed direction, squeezing through the gaps in the trees, freeing one hand to collect berries along the way, plus some pretty stones, all of which she tosses into her quiver, preparing to exchange with the hollow. Eventually, unwittingly, she has entered the thicket where the wild beasts lie in wait. ...... In later years, the Sarkaz girl forgets all she experienced in childhood. Forgets how her parents called her name as they searched for her, forgets the colors of the knot on her wrist when she lifted her hands to surprise them. And she forgets, too, her parents' reaction. 'You see, you see how it was she survived...' The man calls his lover near, all the while pointing at her quiver, incredulous. And so the Sarkaz couple sees that at the bottom of the tiny quiver, there lies the damp trace of melted snow.