 
### Global Warming Fun 4:

### They Taste Like Chicken

By

Gary J. Davies

Published by Gary J. Davies at Smashwords

Global Warming Fun 4: They Taste Like Chicken

Copyright 2015 Gary J. Davies

### Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this e-book. This book is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the only exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy.

This e-book is a work of fiction created by the author and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are a production of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Thank you for downloading this e-book!

### Contents

Forward

Chapter 1: The July Chief

Chapter 2: The Spirit Quest Begins

Chapter 3: Jerry Arrives

Chapter 4: Red Claw

Chapter 5: Jerry's Conference

Chapter 6: Deadly Trail

Chapter 7: Immortality?

Chapter 8: Ann

Chapter 9: Fly Fishing

Chapter 10: Pact

Chapter 11: Okwaho

Chapter 12: Night Owl

Chapter 13: Maggots

Chapter 14: Tsiks Attack

Chapter 15: The Fly Mystery

Chapter 16: Idyllic Campout

Chapter 17: Homecoming

Chapter 18: The Offer

About Other Publications by This Author

### Forward

This novella is the forth in a planned series of approximately ten short stories and/or novellas that when complete will also (hopefully) at some future date be merged to comprise one seamless epic novel. Only complete works are permitted to be published through Smashwords. Therefore each release in this series must stand alone and exhibit a sense of completeness, yet also address a broader series plotline such that together the releases form an epic story that takes place over many centuries.

The novella Global Warming Fun 4: They Taste Like Chicken can be read independently as a stand-alone story, but for a better sense of the over-all plot and more insight into some of the characters, before reading this story its prequels should be read. In the 'Forward' section of the first release of the series the over-all concept for the Global Warming Fun series is more extensively discussed, providing greater insight into the behind the scenes sausage-making of this series for anyone interested in such mundane things.

The general plan is for each story in the series to provide a glimpse of both typical and critical events amid an increasingly unstable world in which natural, technological and mythical forces are being unleashed due to climate change and other human induced problems. In the first stories at least, the emphasis has been strongly science/science fiction Vs fantasy, except perhaps for the telepathic abilities of some characters, which is not really explained in science terms.

In the first story Ed Rumsfeld and his wife Mary were introduced, along with emerging aspects of the global warming/climate change dilemma including the amazing intelligent ants called jants, their creator Jerry Green (a rogue itinerant gene-splicer) and the Government agents that pursued him.

In the second story Ed and his wife Mary moved to a Native American reservation where the ancient Stone-Coats/Ice Giants of Mohawk tribal legend were found to be creatures of history instead of being mere myths, and animated by silicone and carbon-based 'smart rock' that use known science properties rather than through supernatural means. Though disaster was averted the creatures became allies of the jants in their long-term plan to replace mankind. Also, as New England is to become yet colder as a result of climate change, the Reservation faces an uncertain future.

The third story of the series takes place two decades later in New York City and features the jants, and introduces medical ticks and a new human character named George.

This fourth story returns to the Mohawk Reservation of Giants' Rest Mountain introduced in the second story, another decade and a half after the third story, approximately thirty five years after the Reservation and Tribe were introduced in the second story. Huge changes have occurred, including a thirty-foot thick ice sheet.

Currently ten releases are sketched out for this series. How/if the Earth and humanity will survive the trauma of global warming and other problems is at this time not known by the author. (What makes reading fun also makes writing fun!) We shall need to discover how things turn out together. In recent times it seems that actual events (cold winters in the North East USA, draught in California and parts of Africa, influencing subsequent rebellion in Syria and migration from Bangladesh, etc.) predicted by climate change modeling are perhaps beginning to happen faster than I can write about them. That sort of thing has happened to me before, as I am an inherently slow writer.

In addition to cheerfully and patiently waiting for unknown ages to see how this series unfolds and finally ends, you may wish in the meantime to read an already completed full-length novel. (What a novel idea!) See the 'About Other Publications by This Author' section at the end of this e-book for a brief description of other works completed by this author to be found at Smashwords and affiliated sites (i.e. wherever you obtained this current e-book).

I am indebted to numerous information sources, most found on the internet (including Wiki and Edge websites), for knowledge about the Mohawk, climate change, and other concepts used in this series.

As always I thank my wife and daughters for putting up with all this writing nonsense, Bill Gates for his useful spell-checker that makes even physics-trained engineers passable spellers, and my favorite author James P. Blaylock for his early inspiringly silly fabulist fantasy writings. I wish also to thank the makers of Paint, the freeware which supports my awkwardly challenging but enjoyable creation of what are (hopefully) nifty little e-book covers. My KISS philosophy with regard to covers is to as much as possible design them to be simple, legible, amusing, and attention getting even when they are only three or four centimeters high.

Happy reading!

****

### Global Warming Fun 4:

### They Taste Like Chicken

### Chapter 1: The July Chief

Ed Rumsfeld relaxed in his most comfortable recliner, located in the center of the Tribe Council Chamber. He closed his eyes and let his mind wonder freely. It was early morning and past early summer on the Giants' Rest Mountain Mohawk Reservation, and his wife Mary and most of the rest of the Tribe were by now outside enjoying the sunshine and beginning their long work day, but Ed remained deep within the labyrinth of Tribal caves, enjoying a few blessed minutes of rare telepathic silence. In recent years this had become his favorite non-activity and time of day.

Even his exceptionally sensitive telepathic ability registered only the slow, deep, reassuringly calm 'feelings' of thousands of interconnected Stone-Coat Ice Giant units imbedded in the granite of Giants' Rest Mountain that surrounded him. He found it soothing, like gentle ocean waves rolling softly onto a sandy beach or gentle breezes rustling the trees of a forest. Other than that he could sense no thoughts: not even thoughts from the nosy telepathic ants called jants that inhabited some sections of the caves. To Ed this relative telepathic silence was heavenly!

"Ready to tackle more problems, Ati:ron?" asked John Running Bear. As usual, the Mohican that had three and a half decades earlier been adopted by the Mohawk Tribe managed to quietly come within ten feet of Ed without his presence being detected. The man's telepathic abilities were wonderfully weak, even after living most of his life among dozens of Tribe telepaths, and being married most of that timespan to Talking Owl, one of the most talented telepaths in Tribe history. Even after years of practice, Ed could only sometimes sense the man's moods, but never his distinct thoughts. It was one of the things that Ed most liked about Running Bear. Only a handful of truly exceptional Tribe telepaths that specialized in humans could read some of his thoughts, and the Mohican couldn't detect the thoughts of humans or other animals at all. The lucky man always experienced a blessed silence, which perhaps helped to explain his calm stoic nature.

The gray-haired Mohican liked to tease Ed by addressing him as Ati:ron, the Mohawk word for raccoon and his tribal name. However when he did that it always caused Ed to nostalgically recall old Mouse/Tsino:wen, Talking Owl's grandmother, who three and a half decades ago mischievously chose 'Raccoon' as his Mohawk name. Even though she died many years ago Ed and the rest of the Tribe still missed her tremendously. She wouldn't like some of the changes that were happening recently to her beloved Tribe, however. And of course thinking of Mouse always caused Ed to think wistfully of others that had died since he lived here with the Tribe, of Mary's Uncle Jack and his friend Doc, and of past Chiefs and other friends. The dying part of life definitely sucked big time.

"Fudge!" Ed exclaimed. "You're reminding me that I'm Northern Chief this month, John! Whatever the problems are, can't they wait until next month?" Next month was August, and John Running Bear himself would again take his turn as Chief.

"Nope," replied Running Bear with a grin. "One big issue is about my grandson Mark Dawn Owl anyway, so I would properly have to recuse myself, such that even next month you would still have to decide the issue."

"You have an annoying habit of finding work for me to do, and you know how comfortably lazy I am!" Ed complained. "OK, so what about Mark? Is he in trouble? Does it involve the Stone-Coat allocated to him?" Mark was one of Ed's favorite Running Bear grandchildren. Even at only thirteen years old he exhibited some of the calm stoic character traits that helped make his grandfather a great Tribe Chief, much of his father's science abilities, and a treasure trove of the telepathic abilities that helped make his grandmother Talking Owl a great Religious Chief and Owl Clan Leader and founder. Plus he was also obviously already far smarter than most adults, including the current Northern Chief-of-the-month.

Running Bear laughed. "Wow! Maybe along with your telepathy you have become truly psychic! Yes there is indeed a Stone-Coat issue involving Mark! There is also the fly issue that needs resolution sometime soon. Since as of this morning you are acting Chief, you need to decide how to resolve both of these issues."

"I'm acquainted with the fly issue and its urgency, but this is the first time I've heard about a Mark issue. How urgent is his issue?"

"A-S-A-P urgent, I'm afraid. A resolution is needed today, preferably this morning. You have an hour or two to work it out, tops."

"Fudge!"

"Sorry! The fly issue also needs resolution soon."

"Really? But my friend, even if it is not your month to be Tribe Chief, you are still officially the Stone-Coat ambassador and Chief Peace Maker! So any Stone-Coat issue involving Mark should be your problem. Plus you were supposed to be working on the fly issue by seeking out input from the Council of Elders including the Elder Council of Mothers. Of course it's admittedly difficult to work with them now that most of the Council resides off the Reservation hundreds of miles south of here, but we had agreed that we should still consider their insights to decide the fly issue."

Running Bear smiled. "I will be happy to provide my advice and inputs from the Council to you, my Chief, but I'm not going to let you wiggle out of your obligation to then make the decisions. The Council input is only advisory anyway nowadays, unless they unanimously decide to countermand a decision of the Chief."

"Which hasn't happened in decades. Alright, alright; for July the buck stops here with me. So what do the Elders say about the flies?"

"They report that since the first appearance of giant flies in Mexico more than a decade ago, the creatures have been spreading world-wide and adapting to various climates and victims. Their appearance on the Reservation here in the Adirondacks at some point was somewhat inevitable. Oh, and they also note that the flies often carry a variety of nasty pathogens and sometimes swarm in great numbers."

"Swell, but all that and more we already learned via the internet and the telepathic jant network. What we needed from the Elders is their input on what they think that the official Tribe response to the flies should be. Should we treat them as pests to exterminate or as an endangered species to help protect? Perhaps we should even create a fly-based Tribe clan."

Running Bear shook his head. "No fly clan is justified, I'm sure. The tsiks are essentially mindless and definitely not suitable companions to Tribe members. Besides, this Mohawk tribe already has six clans: the traditional bear, wolf, and turtle clans, plus the owl clan my wife started, plus the Stone-Coat clan I lead and the jant clan that you lead. Many of the Elders think that there are already far too many clans. Even though under outside pressures and knowledge the clan system is breaking down with the Mohawk as well as with the other Iroquois tribes, it remains a vital tradition that still helps maintain Tribe and Iroquois Nation cohesion. Increasingly that will be needed in these trying times." "

"I think we should even do more chanting and beating of drums if it helps Tribe cohesion," said Ed. "Of course I was only joking about having a fly clan. But you are right; we do need to do something about the flies very soon. They are evidently drawn to the warmth and life of our greenhouses and increasingly swarm to them."

"More fly larvae were discovered in the soil of greenhouse number five last night," Running Bear reported.

"And the maggots were quickly dispatched and consumed by jants," Ed noted. "The jants informed me of the incident first thing this morning before I left the Jant Clan Longhouse. They also pointed out to me that the flies and their larvae are potential food sources for humans as well as jants. Some off-Reservation human groups have been eating them, especially in China and India, where the food situation is growing truly desperate. The jants eat the larvae world-wide, helping greatly to limit their numbers."

Running Bear shrugged. "Better we eat them than they eat us. There are world-wide reports that the creatures attack and eat almost anything now, including most recently humans."

Ed hadn't heard that they were attacking humans. "So in summary the good news is that further south the flies have pretty much wiped out some nasty invasive mutant species such as the oversized pythons; the bad news is that since they are running out of pythons they attack practically anything including humans. OK, my friend, I'll also consider and resolve the fly issue on my watch. It sounds like the biggest problem will be to figure out how the hell to rid ourselves of them. Shotgun armed warriors are only part of a temporary answer, I'm sure, though the warriors certainly seem to enjoy blasting the guts out of those buggers. But the big news the jants told me this morning is that Jerry Green plans to visit us for a while. He'll arrive here today no later than noon."

Running Bear whistled, an act that the stoic Mohican reserved for only the most momentous of events. "That is big news! How is he getting here? Our old ailing Tribe helicopter won't be in shape to fly for another week or two. Do we need to hastily set up a snowmobile convoy to fetch him from the Albany airport?"

"No, that would be too dangerous, slow, and costly. He is coming in some sort of Federal Government helicopter," Ed explained.

"Of course! He used to be a fugitive from the NSA; now he runs the NSA and who knows what else in the Federal Government! It's a classic case of regulatory capture if ever there was one! The NSA set out to capture Jerry as a bioterrorist, and Jerry ended up their leader! Fortunately the landing pad topside next to the Deck is free of snow as-of last week. I'll spread the word to our warriors not to shoot his helicopter down, as that would probably provide a bad first impression of us. Why is he coming?"

"He wants to negotiate directly with the Stone-Coats about some sort of Government project of his. Your assistance as official Tribe Ambassador to the Stone-Coats is of course requested."

Running Bear shrugged his big shoulders. "That should be fun. Our dear friends the Stone-Coats and jants of course already knew about this?"

"Yes," Ed replied. "It was arranged by the Stone-Coats and jants via both the internet and the jant telepathic network."

The Mohican shook his head. "Sometimes we humans of the Tribe are the last to know. I'm almost surprised that we are being let in on this at all."

"The Stone-Coats actually require the presence of several of the Tribe as well as the jants," said Ed. "Evidently they wisely trust us more than they trust other humans. Besides, Jerry wants to see me in person about other more personal issues. After all, we do share a common malady."

"You are both immortal," Running Bear noted.

"We both apparently haven't aged a day in over thirty-five years, but I doubt that means that we're truly immortal," said Ed. "Prick me and shall I not bleed?"

"Yes, over the years I have seen you bleed profusely many times," remarked Running Bear. "But you do heal absurdly fast. Between that and staying young and healthy you're close enough to being immortal to be called an immortal, in my opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Even with Social Security payments reduced to half what was paid out in the good-old-days, you'll really make out like a bandit if you live for hundreds of years. Good for you!"

"I suppose there are worse things," Ed admitted, but it was a very disturbing topic for him that he didn't want to think about. He wasn't aging, but Mary and his friends obviously were. He and Mary even had two children living in Brooklyn that already appeared to be older than he was. It was very confusing for the grandkids. "So what is Mark Dawn Owl's issue?"

"Mark is of age and needs to start his spirit quest the first day of the next full summer month. That's today."

"Swell." After being part of the Tribe for over three decades, Ed was well acquainted with spirit quests. Mark would be expected to survive on his own for a minimum of two weeks in the wilderness that surrounds the Reservation, and commune with his clan animals, the owls, as well as with other animals. After he 'found himself' spiritually Mark would then return to the Tribe and be declared to be an adult and full Tribe member. "We had his birthday celebration three months ago so I should have realized that his spirit quest was due now. But why is there an issue with it that I'm just hearing about now?"

"It's something that came up over the last week or so. I could have told you about it brewing days ago but I know how you treasure ignorance of such things during the time you are not chief."

"True! Ignorance is indeed stress-free bliss. Thanks for treasuring my false sense of well being, my friend! But male Tribe members have been doing spirit quests for thousands of years, even long before they joined up with the Mohawk and adopted most of there culture. So what's the issue this time?"

The old Mohican shrugged his wide shoulders. "The quest is supposed to be done alone. The Council says he should go on his quest without his monitoring Stone-Coat."

"Fudge! That would break our treaty agreement with the Stone-Coats that requires that a chosen few of us be monitored 24/7 for life by a Stone-Coat!"

"The Council says that by having the Stone-Coat with him on his quest he wouldn't qualify as being alone, breaking with our traditions, and he would have an unfair advantage for survival."

"But Mark's companion is only a very small Stone-Coat: only a measly ton or two of animated granite! Besides, the Stone-Coat simply follows him around and observes him; that would be more of a hindrance than a help to Mark on his quest. What does your wife say about this? She's supposed to lead the Council of Elders and she is Owl Clan Leader!"

"She is Council Leader in name only, I'm afraid. With ninety percent of the Tribe now living in the mountains of Virginia, most of the Elders have fallen out of Talking Owl's sphere of influence, despite her monthly trips south to visit them in Virginia when the weather permits."

"Damn!" exclaimed Ed. "Tribal politics again! I hate Tribal politics!"

"Tell me about it!" lamented Running Bear. "Increasingly, I have to help deal with rising Tribal discontent in Virginia. Many of the newer generation Tribe members resent or even reject their Tribe assignments as Forest Rangers, and the Council members down there are increasingly sympathetic."

"The Council is sympathetic towards any view that gets them votes to be part of the Council. But such issues were supposed to be smoothed over by White Cloud!"

"Southern Chief White Cloud is overwhelmed," explained Running Bear.

"How is he holding up health-wise?"

"Not so good. Even the medical ticks supplied by the jants have been ineffective. He apparently doesn't have a disease, he's getting old."

"But he's younger than you are!"

"We're both still in our spry sixties, which you silly whites used to claim was the new fifties, but White Cloud is physically in his upper seventies in terms of wear and tear. To put it simply, he is working himself to death. Establishing the Tribe in Virginia has been an enormous high stress task. I do what I can to help when I'm down there, but it isn't enough. You and Mary have had it easy by sticking it out here in frozen New York, despite the nasty regional change of climate towards cold."

"We've had our share of challenges," noted Ed.

"And we can all justifiably be very proud of our tremendous accomplishments here on the Reservation. We have over ten meters of ice and snow in most of Mohawk County now all year, yet with the help of the Stone-Coats we've been able to maintain a presence here at Giants' Rest, where we continue to study the Stone-Coats as well as the jants."

"And they study us," noted Ed. "Don't forget that part."

"Unlikely," said Running Bear. "I get to pay their monthly internet bill with the money we get from diamond sales. The Stone-Coat digital exploration of humanity increases yearly. That concerns me; there is far too much useless and malicious drivel on the internet, and though they access much useful information also, I fear that they lack understanding. But at least we remain a part of the Stone-Coat interaction with humanity. The jants are world-wide and integrating with humans world-wide. Both Stone-Coats and jants study humans intently."

"Well if they ever figure out humanity I hope they'll explain us to us," said Ed. "They're trying to understand a moving target though; the off-Reservation outside world seems to get crazier all the time, especially the human part."

Running Bear laughed. "Crazy compared with what life was like when we were youngsters, perhaps, but a lot of folks living off-Reservation would doubtlessly think that living with Stone-Coats and jants like we do is as crazy as hell!"

"True enough, my friend, and they would be right," admitted Ed. "But there is a constant bombardment of bad news from the outside world about problems that we thankfully don't share. Here we have established an essentially sustainable existence while the outside world struggles with climate change and other issues. And nuclear war is a greater threat than ever! Frankly I expected more of our human institutions."

"You remain comfortably naive, my friend, with regard to human nature and institutions, despite your background as a middle-school history teacher. Human institutions are under enormous strain, Ed. Drought, floods, heat, cold, and attendant migrations, hunger, wars, political unrest, radicalism, scapegoating, tribalism, groupism, and so forth, have brought out the worst in humans as well as the best. There is ten times as much armed conflict in the world as there used to be. On top of that there is pollution, the graying of the population, resource shortages, and a bunch of other things that have snuck up on humanity while we apparently weren't looking, because not much was ever done about most of them.

"Still, most human institutions would be OK but for one truly fatal flaw," noted Running Bear: "they are all made up of humans. But we have our own local problems here on the Reservation, including our old friend Jerry coming here today. I'll go topside now and arrange for Jerry's visit, and leave you to ponder issues worthy of your wise chiefly concern."

"Thanks, John. And on your way out, send for Dawn Owl and I'll talk to him first."

"I brought him with me; he's outside in the hall now waiting to see you," said the Mohican. "His monitoring Stone-Coat is of course literally cooling his heels out there also."

"You are annoyingly efficient. I'll talk to him A-S-A-P on my way topside."

"Thanks, Chief. I'll see you topside on the Deck shortly. There you can ask my wife Talking Owl for her inputs on both flies and her favorite grandson's spirit quest."

"Swell," Ed responded, as he watched Running Bear make his way out of the Chamber. The good news was, while he was on duty as Chief, Ed was exempt from having to perform manual chores. Therefore Mary didn't wake him early and drag him topside with her to toil in the greenhouses. She let him sleep in. The bad news was that he much preferred doing manual chores to having to perform as leader of the Tribe.

Leadership sucked. Why so many people sought it on purpose remained an unfathomable mystery to Ed. He figured that most people had the sense to refuse the Chief job, but the required level of sensible resolve needed to do that was apparently lacking in himself. The telepathically gifted Tribe knew a sucker when they met one. Hence a couple of decades ago he was made a Chief.

His blissful quiet time was apparently over already; it was time to get to work. He stretched in his recliner and twisted himself off of it without bothering to raise it to an upright position. It was a flipping acrobatic move for a man chronologically past seventy, but not overly difficult for someone with the body of a fit man in his mid-thirties. He walked to his nearby chest of personal belongings and picked out a jacket and boots to take along with him just in case he decided to brave the elements. Then he headed out.

He admired the Council Chamber as he walked out of it. He loved this room, which is why most mornings he dragged himself out of his own Jant Clan Longhouse early to come here. The largest such room in the Tribal cave complex, it was a forty-foot in diameter circular room with a twenty-foot high domed ceiling. It was a much smaller replica of the domed longhouse chamber that the Tribe had to abandon to the ice two decades ago. Much like traditional longhouses, the caves were vented. At the top of the Council Chamber dome was a yard-wide vent opening that extended all the way to the top of Giants' Rest Mountain. Heat from the Stone-Coats embedded in the Mountain above caused an updraft in cave vents that pulled a constant stream of fresh air through the cave system.

A half-dozen massive fifty-foot Stone-Coat Ice Giants had vacated Giants' Rest Mountain to help form this spacious cavity; in total several hundred of the strange creatures had moved themselves out of the Mountain to allow relatively rapid construction of the Tribal caves. This room, like most of them, was adorned with Tribal mats, blankets, and hundreds of other Tribe artifacts that covered floors, ceilings, and walls: all largely for aesthetic reasons since the Stone-Coats maintained the surrounding granite of the caves at a constant seventy degrees for the comfort of the Tribe humans. The cave walls also shielded humans and jants from radiation emitted by the radioactive materials that helped power the Stone-Coats.

The old artifacts were the most important things in the room; they helped historically ground the Tribe within a world full of unimaginable change. The outside world was arrogantly addicted to present-ism and had abandoned the lessons of history, though they did seem to remember grudges. Not the Tribe. Here there were wooden bows, iron hatchets traded from the Dutch for beaver skins, dear-skin clothes that the entire Tribe used to wear, copper necklaces, bracelets, and arrow-heads, reed baskets, wood masks, feathered headdresses, corncob dolls, drums and flutes, lacrosse equipment, and hundreds of other items from their long past. Some Tribe objects were carbon-dated to be over ten thousand years old.

Children were wisely brought here by the older Tribe members to be taught about Tribe history within the Iroquois Confederacy, about the gods Tharuhyawa:ka (Sky-Holder) and her evil twin Tawiscara (Flint), and about the heroes Hiawatha and Running Bear. And of course they learned about the Atenenyarhu/Stone-Coats. The Tribe had a past rich in pride and integrity. Thanks to their strong roots in the past Tribe members were largely immune to much of the senseless drivel and alarmism that motivated the outside world.

Ed stepped out into the main hallway that terminated at the Council Chamber. As had been stipulated as a requirement by the Tribe, the Tribe cave habitat was laid out like a gigantic mega-longhouse, with side tunnels reminiscent of traditional Tribe longhouses that branched off of this single main hallway/tunnel. The Mohawk were of course one of the six Iroquois tribes, who still called themselves the Haudenosaunee - the people who build the longhouse. There was a massive side-tunnel longhouse for each Tribe clan which generally housed those members of the Tribe belonging to each of the six Tribe clans. There were also numerous side-tunnels dedicated to specific purposes, such as food storage, equipment maintenance, and scientific study.

Mark Dawn Owl was sitting on a nearby granite side-bench and stood up respectfully when he saw Ed emerge from the Council Chamber. The kid looked anxious, Ed thought, and he could sense his anxiety telepathically. His Stone-Coat monitor lumbered out of a nearby cold-chamber where he had presumably been cooling off and recharging his electrical system. His stone feet clunked and scraped noisily on the hard granite floor of the hallway, but his graphite-lubricated joints were as silent as his mood, if he had any mood. Like all individual Stone-Coats, this one had even less of a telepathic signature than Running Bear did.

"Good morning, Chief," greeted Mark. The youngster was growing faster than a greenhouse weed; to Ed he seemed to be a couple of inches taller than the last time he saw him only days ago. He was already nearly as tall as his grandfather, but unlike John Running Bear, Mark was thin instead of stocky. However his voice was starting to change and he was beginning to put on some muscle, Ed judged, and that would certainly be helpful on his spirit quest. The boy also had the sharp staring eyes of his grandfather, as well as much of the telepathic ability of his mother and grandmother, and the science knowledge of his father. All of that would soon prove useful to his survival, Ed felt.

"Good morning Mark, Walking Stone," Ed replied, also speaking aloud so that the Stone-Coat could hear them. Unlike jants and some humans, Stone-Coats completely lacked telepathic abilities.

"Yes, this day would in sum be considered by local humans to be good from a weather perspective," confirmed Walking Stone, in crisp, precisely annunciated English that emanated from one of his small ears. The Stone-Coat's ears had been designed with carbon graphene membranes and cords to both detect and produce sound. The closed mouth had huge beaver-like diamond teeth designed to munch trough wood, the primary carbon source material for Stone-Coats. The mouth had the ability to ingest materials or expel them, but had nothing to do with speech. "The morning weather conditions fall within recent historic norms and no existential threats to the Tribe or to my young human companion are detected," Walking Stone concluded.

"Thank you for that report and its underlying analysis," replied Ed.

The Stone-Coat stood only as tall as Ed, but was incredibly squat and massive. It looked something like a squat bear that stood on its hind legs, but it had greatly elongated fingers and toes, tipped with big diamond claws. Its large eyes glowed dull red and its ears, a very recent Stone-Coat innovation, were shaped of pure diamond, as were the quarter to plumb-sized scales and elongated hair-like gems that covered its body.

Regrettably, most of these magnificent gems were not currently exposed for viewing, except for those on his head, hands and feet. The Stone-Coat was mostly covered by what looked like a loose-fitting reflective parka of human manufacture. The Mylar-like parka was designed to help the Stone-Coat to maintain parts of its body at a temperature below freezing, so that it could efficiently move itself even in warm human-inhabited spaces.

Technically the creatures were sexless, but Ed tended to think of them as being male. Years ago Mary surprised Ed by telling him that she thought of them as being female. They were of course neither. This one was specially designed to support its human monitoring mission. In addition to its relatively small size, unlike most Stone-Coat mobile units this one was capable of both hearing and speech in order to better communicate with and observe the subject of its studies, Mark Dawn Owl.

"Let's all begin to move topside where it's a bit colder," said Ed, "while we discuss the spirit quest issue."

The two humans walked side by side and the Stone-Coat followed, its clunking-scraping footfalls echoing in the hallway, which unlike the Council Chamber and longhouses was starkly bare granite that featured few sound absorbing adornments.

"Your Grandfather told me of your dilemma," began Ed. "How do you feel about it?"

"Well first of all the whole idea of spirit quests is mega retro and lame," Mark complained, "not to mention useless and sexist, since only guys have to do it."

"So true," admitted Ed. "But it's an honored Tribe tradition that has been done since long before the pyramids of Egypt were built. The Elder Council feels that maintaining some of the Tribe traditions is important to maintaining Tribe cohesion in these troubled times, even if some of them are totally lame. There are lots of things in life like that that people do, young man. It's usually easiest just to go along with them. In this case by going on a spirit quest you remember and honor your ancestors, the Tribe, and your family. Maybe that aspect of it isn't quite so lame."

"I guess," said Mark, though he didn't sound convinced and indicated nothing to the contrary using telepathy.

Like all exceptionally talented telepaths, the kid could hide his thoughts when he wanted to, Ed noticed. It was a very useful ability to have when living among a tribe that featured dozens of telepaths and hosted millions of snoopy telepathic jants. "What do you think of the issue of Walking Stone going with you?" Chief Ed asked.

"I want to go on my spirit quest alone," said Mark decisively.

"Why?" Ed asked, surprised. "Aren't the two of you getting along? I haven't seen any negative reports."

"We tolerate each other just fine," admitted Mark. "But all my life I've been followed around everywhere day and night by Walking Stone."

"You're old enough now and certainly intelligent enough to understand the importance of maintaining good relations between humans and Stone-Coats. You and your Stone-Coat monitor have become an important part of that."

"Chief Ed, please apply the Golden Rule here. How would YOU feel if a Stone-Coat was following you around and mostly just listening to you and watching you all the time?"

"Creepy, I suppose. You have a good point. Have you discussed this with your parents and grand-parents?"

"A little bit," Mark admitted. "Like you, they told me about the importance of the Treaty, which by the way I had no part in setting up. They want me to tough it out and go through with doing my quest with Walking Stone. That's easy for them to say; they don't have a couple of tons of animated rock with eyes and ears following them around 24-7."

"Good point," admitted Ed. "But aren't you used to that by now?"

"Mostly. But since I was little I was also told about my up and coming spirit quest and how I had to be alone when I did it. For years I've been looking forward to being alone for a couple of weeks while on my quest. I don't really have anything against Walking Stone; all he usually does is simply watch and listen. He's more like a moving statue than a companion. Sometimes we go for days without talking to each other at all."

"Really? Interesting. That agrees with most reports we've gotten on the other four human/Stone-Coat pairs. And what is the Stone-Coat view?" Ed asked as he turned his gaze towards Walking Stone.

"Treaty provisions only permit the cessation of monitoring if said monitoring becomes injurious to the human being observed," noted the Stone-Coat. "However that does not appear to be the case here. Dawn Owl is in perfect health. Therefore the Tribe is expected to honor the Treaty by allowing our monitoring of him and the others to continue uninterrupted."

"In addition to their physical health, the mental health and well-being of those being monitored also must be considered," stated Ed. "If Stone-Coat monitoring so seriously disturbs Dawn Owl that it threatens his mental well-being, under the Treaty some changes will legitimately need to be made."

"The concept of mental health is a research topic of interest where our understanding of humans is admittedly weak. Exactly what changes do you propose?" asked the stone behemoth. "The outright breaching of Treaty terms would be unsatisfactory." He said it tonelessly, emotionlessly, but dead seriously. Ed was very aware that he wasn't talking to just Walking Stone, he was speaking with a vast mountain of interconnected Stone-Coats that constantly monitored and re-assessed the humans at Giants' Rest and their relationship with them. The Tribe/Stone-Coat Treaty had taken years of work to establish. It codified a peaceful symbiotic relationship useful to Stone-Coats but essential to Tribe humans. That Treaty must be preserved at all costs, Ed knew.

"Yes I agree strongly with that principle," said Ed. "Changes that fall far short of cutting off monitoring will perhaps prove satisfactory for both humans and Stone-Coats. I believe that what I will propose is in accordance with the Treaty. Further, if Dawn Owl's spirit quest is successful it will help ensure that the Treaty is kept by all human/Stone-Coat pairs now and in the future."

"So are you saying that he will be allowed to go with me?" Dawn Owl asked.

"In a word yes, but with a twist. I've thought of a compromise that will perhaps sufficiently satisfy both Treaty and spirit quest requirements, but I'll wait until we reach your parents and Grandparents to explain exactly what it is, and seek then the agreement of everyone involved, including both of you. Are you ready to start your quest today?"

"Yes, Chief Ed," said Dawn Owl. "I've been told that my camping gear has already been assembled topside by my parents."

"Good. Far from being lame and useless, what I have in mind for your quest is something vital to both the Tribe and the Stone-Coats. Times are tough, Dawn Owl, and your individual help is needed now. Your grandfather has been a great hero to the Tribe by helping redefine the relationship between Stone-Coats and Humans, now perhaps it is your turn."

Though disappointed that he would apparently have to take Walking Stone with him on his quest, Dawn Owl was intrigued. However he hoped that Chief Ed didn't expect from him the physical and leadership heroics of his grandfather Running Bear; like his father the Tribe scientist, Mark was much more inclined towards intellectual pursuits.

They were approaching the doorway to the outside. The tunnel widened from twenty to thirty feet, and the odd trio joined dozens of other Tribe members young and old also walking topside from longhouses and other rooms. Most carried farming tools, bags of seed, and empty baskets where harvested crops would be placed for transport and storage. They all exchanged friendly greetings with their Chief of the month and with Mark Dawn Owl.

Everyone knew everyone else at Giants' Rest. Some spoke in Mohawk, but most used English. They all judiciously stayed out of Walking Stone's way, and out of the way of several small electric-powered carts that were also headed topside. Later in the day most of the carts would return to the caves filled with harvested vegetables.

Several of the converging Tribe members were telepathic to various degrees, and exchanged silent greetings with Ed. Their thoughts were part of the growing flood of telepathically transmitted distinct thoughts and emotions, mostly human, that Ed increasingly sensed as they left behind the relative silence of the caves.

A few of the Tribe members were of the jant clan and carried jants with them, and several of those had medical ticks attached to their backs, hidden to vision but very apparent telepathically. These individuals greeted Ed as 'Clan Leader' rather than 'Chief', as it was the more intimate affiliation.

The jants communicated with their human clan partners and with each other and the ticks telepathically. Despite years of exposure to it most jant and tick telepathic chatter was unintelligible noise to Ed, as it was a lower level of thought than humans could deal with at a conscious level. Human thought at that level would also doubtless be gibberish. However with focus Ed could increasingly understand fleeting bits and pieces of their more concentrated thoughts. Like the humans that carried them, these jants were headed for the greenhouses, and they thought mostly of gathering food. But there was also an unusual excitement in their chatter, and he thought that he 'heard' the name Jerry Green being mentioned repeatedly.

"HELLO, JANT CLAN LEADER AND TRIBE CHIEF ED RUMSFELD," came a sudden clear collective thought projected from the jants. The thought was full of reverberations due to it being created by millions of tiny jant minds. The reverberations were unusually strong on this occasion, indicating that a significant physical separation of the jants was involved.

"HELLO BACK TO YOU!" responded Ed. "I SENSE THAT I AM SPEAKING WITH MUCH MORE THAN THE LOCAL RESERVATION JANT COLONIES."

"CORRECT, ED RUMSFELD! THOUSANDS OF JANT COLONIES WORLD-WIDE ARE PREPARING TO WITNESS AND PARTICIPATE IN THE HISTORIC MEETING BETWEEN THE STONE-COATS AND OUR CREATOR, JERRY GREEN."

"I LOOK FORWARD TO THE EVENT AND FURTHER INTERACTIONS BETWEEN US ALL!" Ed projected strongly, before cutting off his thoughts to the ever inquisitive insects. Hundreds of billions of intelligent ants would soon be conversing with millions of tons of intelligent rock conversing with his former next-door neighbor and most powerful Government official Jerry Green! Why did such dramatic events seem to always happen during his turn at being Chief? Ed wasn't as much looking forward to the event as he was looking forward to being able to look back at the event.

Ed, Dawn Owl, and the farmer Tribe members slipped on their jackets and boots before pushing through the hanging strips of heavy plastic that cut down on air and heat exchange with the topside Deck area.

It was sunny and warm outside, and already over forty degrees. The morning summer sun made it feel like fifty, and the warmth of it on his skin felt wonderful. After a long winter of sub-zero temperatures, this felt heavenly to Ed. The increase in telepathic chatter outside, human and non-human, also hit him hard, but he had become skilled at tuning most of it out. Best of all the air outside was fresh and clean compared to the air in the caves. The system of vents in the cave worked well, but it was not the same as being outside.

It was also not the same as being in the forests of decades past, unfortunately. Beyond the Deck, miles of fog-obscured ice sheet stretched instead of forests, the legacy of human-induced climate change. The International Commission on Stratigraphy had already declared that Earth had entered the Anthropocene, a human dominated geological epoch. These ephemeral ice sheets were predicted to last only a few hundred years. In another thousand years when this and all other ice sheets melted as predicted by scientists the Quaternary period itself and its two and a half million year ice age would officially end. Ed wondered if at that time there would still exist an International Commission on Stratigraphy to name a new period and epoch. At the rate things were headed downhill he strongly doubted it.

"There you are at last!" chided his wife Mary, as she scrambled to Ed and hugged him warmly. Twice the apparent age of Ed, she was still a slim, attractive, energetic woman that didn't yet require medicines or jant/tick help to maintain her health. "My, but you've grown tall!" she told Mark Dawn Owl, as she also gave him a quick hug. "And I judge that Walking Stone has added a couple hundred pounds of lovely gemstones too!" She gave the Stone-Coat a quick embrace which was not visibly acknowledged by the inscrutable mineral creature.

"John has gone on to the green houses to seek out Talking Owl for your meeting," she informed them. "I have commandeered a cold-chamber for the comfort of Walking Stone and some chairs for humans." She pointed to an area further out on the Deck where several old women were arranging most wooden Deck chairs to face towards a cold-chamber and a small inner circle of chairs arranged near it.

Ed wasn't surprised to see Mark's father Frank Gray Wolf and his mother Morning Dove already seated near the circle. A huge back-pack full of camping equipment sat on the Deck nearby. The camping equipment appeared to consist of modern white-man made items, no doubt purchased using cash gained from the Tribe's trade of diamonds with the outside world. Good. The kid would need good equipment.

Both parents looked anxious. Ed waved hello and smiled at them in an attempt to reassure them that things were well in hand, but he didn't blame them for being anxious about their eldest but still too-young son going on his spirit quest in the brutal icy wilderness that surrounded Giants' Rest.

Morning Dove was beautiful: the spitting image of her mother in years past, though her telepathic skills weren't nearly as strong. Ed had spent many years working closely with Dawn Owl's father, lead Tribe scientist Frank Gray Wolf. Most parents would be pestering their Chief with concerns and questions at a time like this, but Mark's parents were not. They both had trust and confidence in their son and in their close friend Chief Ed, and simply waved and smiled back at him.

"I already announced to the Tribe that in an hour there will be a brief spirit quest ceremony," continued Mary. "Despite the planting and harvesting work schedule I expect that many people will take a break to attend. I assume that one hour will give you enough time to decide exactly what you will say at the ceremony?"

"Yes Mary, thank you," Ed responded. "An hour will need to be sufficient. There are other preparations to make immediately. Jerry Green is coming today, perhaps as early as late morning."

"Yes, Running Bear told me. As the way to any man's heart is through his stomach I am planning to greet our long lost neighbor with food. What about you? Have you eaten any breakfast?"

"No! Not a thing!" Ed responded in surprise. How did she always know? "I guess I was too busy with my Chief duties. John Running Bear seems to have been saving up issues for me to address."

"Ha! More likely you dozed off in your recliner again. Sometimes you act like you're aging like the rest of us. Well, you are what you eat, Ed, and this morning you and your young friend will be corn, squash, beans, snap peas, and assorted leafy greens picked fresh from the green houses." She escorted them to a nearby wooden picnic table where two elderly Tribe women were already putting out big quartz plates heaped with steaming food. Ed was fortune enough to be downwind of the food and the aroma was incredible.

"Mary, you're a miracle worker!" Ed said, as Mary sat him down in front of one of the plates of food, and motioned for Dawn Owl to sit at the other. "And your friends also of course!" Mary commanded an entourage of old people that followed her everywhere doing chores for the Tribe, including much Tribe cooking and cleaning. She was a natural leader and didn't seem to mind leading. She was the one that should have been made a chief, Ed often thought.

"I already ate breakfast," noted Mark. "But thanks; I guess I can eat some more."

"Of course you can; you're a teenager now," said Mary, as a tray holding big cups of steaming strawberry-flavored tea was added to the table. "Besides, this is your last meal before being turned loose into the wilderness. I do hope that you know what the hell you're doing, young man!"

"Grandfather has instructed me extensively on survival tactics," Mark replied. "He used to be a Government spy, you know!"

"Yes we know," said Mary, as she sat down with Ed and Mark and sipped hot peppermint tea. "We were the ones that Running Bear was spying on for the NSA. It used to be so beautiful here then, before the snows came and stayed."

As Mary rambled on about the good-old-days, Ed stared out over Giants' Rest Valley and also wistfully remembered how it was. Giants' Rest Valley was almost all farmland then, and the mountain foothills were covered with giant green trees. The Giants' Rest trees were all gone and the enormous Tribe greenhouses that had been developed due to climate change provided less than ten percent as much cultivated area as was once farmed by the Tribe. The Tribe still grew essentially all of its own food, but now there was much less food and ninety percent less local Tribe.

This valley and countless others in the Adirondack mountain range were now frozen wastelands; buried under ten or more meters of ice and snow that refused to completely melt even in the summer. Instead only half the new annual snow melted in the summer and the remaining half added to the accumulating ice sheet. In the valleys and on the north-facing mountainsides the trees were buried in permanent ice, and only the skeletal remains of some of them still poked up into the air. Some plants including trees still tenaciously survived on many southern-facing mountain slopes, which sheltered a multitude of hearty plant and animal refugees, but more than ninety percent of the original forest was gone, along with most of its plant and animal inhabitants.

Ed himself had driven trucks full of animals south to the Virginia Appalachian forestlands where most of the Tribe now lived. It had taken all of his telepathic skills to calm the creatures and keep them from eating each other during the trips. There were still a few clan bears and wolves scattered in the mountains, but all turtles were either moved south or dead. Oddly enough Ed found that he missed the turtles even more than he missed the wolves and bears, and not just because they were fundamental to the Mohawk lunar calendar and new-year celebration. He found the slow quiet thoughts of turtles to be calming and sensible. The stressed and decimated wildlife population that remained in the region was comparatively anxious and upsetting.

Now the valley that spread out below was glacier covered and shrouded in persistent summer fog. Most life had retreated from Mohawk County, but the fog remained.

Ed glanced behind him at Giants' Rest Mountain. The Tribe cave complex was on the sunny south slope of the Mountain, and completely bare of snow and ice in the summer. The five-thousand foot peak was a massive solid rounded granite mound, somewhat reminiscent of El Capitan at Yosemite in California. Particularly in winter and at night the rest of the year, the shaded far north side of the Mountain was the hub of Stone-Coat activity, with dozens of Stone-Coat Ice Giants coming and going. The strange rock-creatures were enjoying a period of revitalization due to climate change and Tribe support. Even in summer they marched off at night seeking destinations far from Giants' Rest Mountain, spreading their rock-based life-form to other Adirondack peaks and beyond and consuming frozen tree remnants for the carbon and other elements that they needed to propagate themselves.

Why was it getting colder here while most of the world was getting warmer? Ed didn't understand the science behind it, but Dawn Owl's father Frank Gray Wolf once likened it to opening a refrigerator door. The entire room and the refrigerator got warmer as the appliance hopelessly worked to cool itself, but the area in front of the refrigerator was locally cooled by cold air spilling out of the open refrigerator doorway. Yes, most of the Arctic Ice Cap was now open ocean in the summer due to climate change, but aided by the diverted arctic jet-stream, the arctic winter cold, though less severe than in times past, was now more strongly felt across Eastern Canada and in the New England area of the United States. Global 'Warming' featured both hot and cold running weather, with a few areas of the globe actually getting colder. If you lived in a hotter area that might seem like a good thing, until your backyard was buried under an ice sheet all year.

New England and coastal Canada were hit particularly hard, as that is where warmer ocean waters carried by the invigorated Gulf Stream caused wet warm air to meet the cold arctic air, resulting in record snowfalls. Ocean-warmed coastal cities such as Boston and New York suffered record winter snowfalls but had warmer, snow free summers sometimes accompanied by hurricanes. Further inland, much of the winter snow no longer completely melted, and most humans had abandoned the resulting frozen wastelands. Yes, in the distant past there had been many occurrences of extreme climate change, but this human induced climate change was happening unusually quickly, such that many life forms including humans were struggling to survive.

Life though greatly diminished stubbornly held on even in the colder areas. On the Mohawk Reservation of Giants' Rest Mountain a unique partnership between humans and Stone-Coats allowed a portion of the Tribe to still survive here. For several years the Tribe had brought raw materials to the Stone-Coats, allowing them to flourish to an extent not experienced by them for hundreds of thousands of years. The Stone-Coats in return developed a climate-controlled cave system where Tribe members could live, and greenhouses where they could grow food most of the year for consumption by humans, Stone-Coats, and jants.

Ed stared out admiringly at the complex of Tribe greenhouse structures. At first glance the long transparent buildings looked much like ordinary greenhouses constructed by humans, much as the insides of the cave longhouses looked deceptively like traditional Mohawk dwellings. However, like the Tribe cave dwellings, these greenhouses were constructed by Stone-Coats. It had taken the Stone-Coats years to do it, but they slowly reshaped granite obtained quartz into windows, and shaped other assorted minerals into frames, floors, and supporting pillars that reached down through the ice and into the underlying bedrock. The pillars grew constantly to keep the greenhouses above the rising level of ice.

"GOOD MORNING, CHIEF ATI:RON!" pathed Talking Owl.

Ed stood and turned to face Talking Owl, who had emerged from one of several glass enclosed tunnels that led down to the greenhouses. Though nearly sixty she was still hauntingly beautiful, though increasingly the diminutive Religious Chief reminded Ed of her long dead Grandmother, Mouse. An enormous snowy white owl rode on the shoulder of the Owl Clan Leader.

"SHE:KON TSIHSTEKERI!" Ed pathed 'hello owl' in return. If he didn't use his Mohawk once in a while, he knew he would forget it, which would be a shame, even though most of the Tribe now used English most of the time. "IT'S A BUSY MORNING, TALKING OWL. GOOD HUNTING, YELLOW CLAW," he added for the owl's benefit.

"GOOD HUNTING!" the Owl repeated back to him telepathically, while acoustically voicing a loud hoot. After more than three decades of communicating with owls, Ed still wasn't sure how much they understood of Mohawk or English.

The much more massive form of her husband John Running Bear emerged from the tunnel behind her, and the couple slowly made their way through an opposing stream of greenhouse bound farm workers who paused to exchange warm greetings with the popular Tribe leaders.

More hugs and greetings were exchanged when the arriving couple reached the little circle of Deck chairs and everyone sat down to convene Ed's meeting.

"By now you are all acquainted with the issue of Walking Stone and the spirit quest of Dawn Owl," began Ed. "By tradition the Tribe Chief is supposed to define the particular goals of the quest, if there are any goals in addition to the basic requirement to survive two weeks in the wilderness without Tribe help. I have come up with goals that are somewhat unusual. So unusual that I wanted to discus and achieve concurrence on them with all of you before announcing them at the formal spirit quest ceremony to be held shortly."

"You have our attention," said Running Bear.

"Part of our Treaty with the Stone Coats is that they monitor five humans from birth to death, and Dawn Owl became the first human to be so monitored. Perhaps we should have considered the spirit quest tradition before we made that agreement, but now I believe it can be used to the advantage of both humans and Stone-Coats. Running Bear, you tried to stimulate closer personal relations with Stone-Coats when the Stone-Coat Clan was established and you were made its clan leader."

"Yes, a clan leader without a clan," lamented Running Bear. "The idea was to indicate to the Stone-Coats and ourselves that we wished to explore the possibility of bonding more closely with Stone-Coats as part of a permanent peace between us."

"Yes, and we thought that agreeing to the monitoring of several of our people as they grew up would also show to them our good intentions," said Talking Owl.

"We intended them to be family members," noted Mary, "and they essentially didn't get it."

"But we trusted Stone-Coats to monitor several of our precious, vulnerable children," continued Talking Owl. "We have more subtly attempted a similar thing with the jants and their medical ticks."

"The jants are living creatures that share our warm world and perhaps better understand us," noted Ed. "But we will focus on them at another time. My point now is that we have already taken huge steps to strengthen our understanding of and ties with the Atenenyarhu." A few of the native Tribe-people grimaced in response to Ed's mangled pronunciation of the Mohawk word for Stone-Coats, and Ed decided to stick with English. "We hoped that having five of them live among us would lead to lasting peace and understanding between us. We have indeed gained much cooperation but not so much friendship and understanding," Ed said. "Now I propose that we try again to do so. Specifically I propose that Mark and Walking Stone accomplish a soul quest together as Tribe youth and clan animal."

"Stone-Coat Ice Giants are not animals," Gray Wolf objected. "They are a sentient rock life-form with an alien, collective intelligence. Each one of them is packed full of silicon doped with dozens of elements to achieve computer-like electronic properties, interconnected using highly conductive carbon graphene nanotube and metallic wiring. They may be regarded to be living computers: a silicon life-form as alien to us as anything we might be likely to find through exploration of other star systems."

"Yet officially they are also Tribe clan animals," pointed out Running Bear, Leader of the Stone-Coat Clan.

"From a science terminology perspective humans are of course the animals and are clan members and hence are the actual clan animals." noted Gray Wolf.

"Whatever we chose to call them, it is now appropriate that from a Tribe perspective Dawn Owl be considered to be of the Stone-Coat Clan," said Ed, "and that Walking Stone be his acknowledged clan companion brother, even though as you point out the Stone-Coats are essentially living computers and far more sentient than traditional clan animals."

"The Elder Council might agree to this if the Stone-Coat involved pledges to only observe Dawn Owl and not interfere with his survival," said Talking Owl.

"I propose the opposite," said Ed. "As this entire corner of the continent has become a frozen wasteland, Mark will obviously face serious challenges. But as this spirit quest falls in the summer, I suspect that Walking Stone will also experience very serious difficulties. Living here at Giants' Rest Mountain among the Tribe they have both had it easy. Out in the wilderness they will both need to cooperate together during their joint spirit quest."

"Taking the Stone-Coat with him could prove to be a huge burden particularly in the summer," said Running Bear. "I have been with them when they have practiced getting around on summer ice."

"Yes," Ed agreed. "Yet the Treaty must be observed such that Walking Stone maintains his observation of Dawn Owl. Even here on the Reservation that means that Mark is prohibited from eluding the presence of Walking Stone. That is already a huge burden for him to endure, is it not?"

"We had not thought that to be the case," interjected Walking Stone.

"It is indeed so," said Morning Dove. "Since he was three years old our son could have physically evaded you. We have had to constrain his movements and teach him to remain within your perception. During a quest for survival that could become a huge burden. He will need to hunt and travel over rugged terrain including summer-melting sheet ice. How will that be possible with you tethered to him by the Treaty?"

"Yes the challenge will be great, but that is what I propose," said Ed. "They must learn to help each other as never before. An accompanying change of Walking Stone personality will be needed."

"Specify," said the Stone-Coat.

"You will need to communicate much more with Mark."

"That is not my monitoring protocol," said Walking Stone. "I am to avoid interference with Mark and merely observe."

"And what has it gotten you?" Ed asked. "You are trying to understand humans, are you not? You won't ever be able to do that if you merely passively observe us. You do that now anyway with the whole Northern Tribe living within your Mountain. To understand us, if that is even possible, you will have to try to live with us as true companions, not simply as observers. From a human perspective your current monitoring protocol is disturbingly creepy. I propose that you be a companion and not a mere monitor."

"Ah!" said Gray Wolf. "From a science perspective that Walking Stone will perhaps better understand you are proposing that actively interfacing with the system being observed is necessary to achieve more pertinent observations of its behavior. Stimulus and response will become possible, though it will be stimulus and response between equals. Besides, as we have just noted, the required presence of Stone-Coats already interferes with the behavior that you monitor anyway."

"I guess that's what I'm saying," Ed said, unsure of his own science perspective. "You'll need to talk with each other about everything, like any human would do with close friends or family. Years ago when I went to college I lived in a dorm with a roommate that at first drove me crazy. But we talked to each other about our issues instead of changing roommates and eventually instead of us both simply being cohabitating entities with a high creep factor for one another we became close friends."

"Concepts of friends and family are not well understood by us," said Walking Stone.

"Which is exactly why you should discuss them with Mark," said Ed. "A major goal of the quest will be for the two of you to establish a closer and more personal relationship. Ideally, some sort of friendship."

"It all sounds reasonable, though in several ways very challenging," said Running Bear. There were nods of agreement from the other humans present.

"And essentially in keeping with Tribe tradition," added Talking Owl. "The spirit quest is supposed to be a time when the questing youngster bonds with their Tribe animal, with each respecting the other. I had rather hoped that for Mark instead of a couple of tons of rock it would be an owl that he closely bonded with."

"Hell, the boy can still also bond with as many owls or other creatures as he wants to," said Ed, as he turned his attention directly to Dawn Owl and then back to Mark. "You, Mark, will need to also try to buddy up with Walking Stone. In essence you will both be going on a spirit quest. Neither of you will be allowed to obtain aid from others of your kind. They are to ignore you. You must together quest and survive for two weeks alone in the wilderness as companions."

"Do the Stone-Coats agree to accept this quest as has been outlined here?" Ed asked Walking Stone.

"It is agreed," said the Stone-Coat. "We do not understand the thought process you employed to determine this strategy but we compute that it may achieve positive results."

"So then, their friendly togetherness is to be one major goal of the quest," said Gray Wolf. "You have suggested that there are others?"

"Yes," said Ed. "You questers are also to report your recommendations with regard to the giant flies. I suspect that you will encounter them during your spirit quest."

"Afraid so," agreed Running Bear. "Have you got any other goals for Dawn Owl, Chief?"

"Just the usual primary one: stay alive," Ed concluded.

****

### Chapter 2: The Spirit Quest Begins

The official Spirit quest ceremony was brief and inspiring, and Mark Dawn Owl and Waking Stone were soon on their way. Mark had attended such ceremonies before and knew what to expect, but those were ceremonies for other Tribe boys. It was different to yourself be the focus of attention for hundreds of people, and to be cheered on by them and thought well of by dozens of telepaths. By the time it was over his head was spinning with well-wishes from well-wishers.

He liked that everyone in the Tribe knew everyone else, especially those in the same clan. His father had told him of his own childhood in Brooklyn while his father helped build skyscrapers and earn much needed white-man cash for the Tribe, living among millions of strangers, and Dawn Owl couldn't imagine such a thing, though perhaps even that was better than being alone.

They duo were slowly skirting around the periphery of Giants Rest Mountain, making slow but steady progress over the sun softened ice, with Walking Stone in the lead. Even with his big-toed feet, the heavy Stone-Coat was sinking more than a foot into the sun-softened ice/snow, but he used his Stone-Coat strength to plow open a hard but icy path with his diamond-hard feet. Mark wore hiking boots with attached crampons that firmly griped the icy trail left by Walking-Stone. They had been out on the ice many times in trial runs and when hiking and camping with his father, grandfather, and grandmother, and Dawn Owl's confidence was high.

Early on, Walking Stone had noted that since he would need to plow his way through the melting snow layer anyway, it was logical for him to lead the way, and for Mark to take advantage of the resulting path by following in his footsteps. Mark readily agreed. Carrying a fifty-pound backpack was tough enough without having to also break-trail. Everything was going well until Walking Stone abruptly dropped completely out of sight through the ice.

Mark had seen Stone-Coats fall into snow-hidden cracks in the ice sheet before, but those were fifty-foot tall behemoths that easily climbed back out. He anxiously crawled to the edge of the hole made by Walking Stone's heavy body and peered down. Over twenty feet below him the Stone-Coat was buried up to his neck in dislodged ice and snow and was looking up at him alertly. "Are you alright?" Mark asked.

"There is no physical damage to this unit," Walking Stone replied. "I have discovered what may geologically be classified as a sinkhole in the ice sheet, probably formed by melting surface snow waters running down and beneath the ice sheet."

Mark had to laugh.

"Your reaction is not understood," said the Stone-Coat. "In keeping with our new protocol we should discuss it."

Mark had to laugh some more. "Let's discuss it after you are out of that hole, science geek. Can you climb out?"

Deep within the Stone-Coat, water to ice transformations were induced, producing huge hydraulic pressures that drove arms and legs into motion. Diamond-clawed fingers and toes bit into ice. The ice unfortunately crumbled and fell down into the water where it was washed away. He tried again and more ice again gave-way. Walking Stone ended up standing in a slightly wider hole, up to his knees in swiftly running melt-water.

"My Dad told me that Stone-Coat Ice-Giants have lived for millions of years in frozen places. These things have happened before to you guys. What do you usually do in these situations?"

"Three relevant tactics are recalled," replied Walking Stone. "I could wait for the ice to melt, which could take a thousand years or more. That is not a long time for Stone-Coats, but clearly too long for you and this quest. Second, I could follow the stream through the ice until it flows into the open, which could take an estimated several weeks or longer, perhaps also thousands of years if along the way I become mired down. Finally, other Stone-Coat units could help this unit climb out, which is forbidden by our agreement. None of those approaches are satisfactory in the current situation."

"But we can still help each other," said Mark. "I could simply use my rope to try to help you out but you are too heavy."

"Yes, that analysis is correct. Using your common force units of measure the rope would break at approximately five-hundred pounds. Approaches involving many more ropes could work but we are limited to only the equipment that you now carry."

"I have another idea but it will take me a little while to carry it out," said Mark. "Stay where you are and I'll return as soon as I can."

"Leaving my presence will break the Treaty; we are to stay in close proximity with each other," complained Walking Stone as Mark backed away from the hole and out of sight from his Stone-Coat monitor.

"Tough; I'm not coming down there to join you," replied Mark, as he slushed away towards a nearby stand of pine-tree remains that poked above the ice-sheet. The ice sheet along the sunny edge of the Mountain was too unstable and problematic for these tree-tops to be harvested by Ice Giants in summertime. Mark soon found what he was looking for: a twenty-five-foot length of relatively thin pine-trunk. It was already lying on the softened snow, so he didn't even need to use his hatchet to cut it down; he only had to trim off a few already battered limbs. However it was almost too heavy and awkward for him to move it, even using prying sticks as leavers. Struggling mightily in the July sun, he had to shed most of his clothing layers as he moved it a few feet at a time. After half an hour he was able to at last wrestle the trunk to the sinkhole.

"You have returned, Mark Dawn Owl," noted the Stone-Coat dispassionately. "However, through your action our Treaty has been broken. You have willfully eluded my observation for thirty two minutes. In that time I have also failed three additional attempts to climb out."

"My Dad once explained to me something that he called a trade-off. Solutions to problems aren't always perfect and may involve negative factors. You can only do the best that you can do. I had to leave you for a short time so that your ability to monitor me can be restored for the rest of my lifetime. Get it?"

"I understand your explanation and judge that your action was logical and potentially positive. Have you found what you were looking for?"

"I did. I have a log for you to climb. I'll drop it down to you and you climb up it gently and carefully or it will break."

With some difficulty Mark was able to tip and slide the log down into the sinkhole where the thicker end of it came to rest heavily beside the Stone-Coat. The bottom of the log was anchored solidly in the rocky stream-bed. The top of the log reached nearly to the top of the hole.

"I estimate that it will bear perhaps half of my weight," said Walking Stone. "It is uncertain that the ice will bear my remaining weight."

"There will also be my doubled-up rope," said Mark. "Altogether that should be just about enough to support you." He soon anchored the rope with tent stakes driven into ice by hatchet and shouted to Walking Stone to begin climbing out.

In the Stone-Coat's water-filled hydraulic body cavities ice formed and with its expansion pushed diamond-strong cylinders attached to graphene-carbon tendons a hundred times stronger than steel. Movement came to graphite lubricated joints of rock crystal formed legs, arms, fingers and toes. Walking Stone used his jaws and one hand on the ropes, his other hand to dig into the ice, while both feet gripped the log firmly, taking care not to crush the wood. The tree trunk sank a few inches to rest firmly on rock, then supported most of the Stone-Coat's great weight. Walking-Stone slowly moved himself upwards, inch by inch, foot by foot.

Mark worried about the great strain being put on the rope; rope designed to support human climbers, not Stone-Coat Ice Giants. Rather than bringing a man-made rope, he should have brought a Stone-Coat manufactured rope made from carbon nanotubes, but he had equipped this quest for himself, not for a Stone-Coat. His quest was originally going to be an escape from everything having to do with Stone-Coats. "Don't put too much weight on the rope!" he shouted in warning.

"I monitor the tension continuously," Walking Stone reassured him. "The ice is becoming stronger as I climb away from the running water, and I can decrease tension on the rope and the forces on the wood tree trunk."

Indeed the Stone-Coat now supported most of its weight by pressing its great hands against opposite sides of the hole, and pulling on the rope with its jaws, while continuing to climb the gradually thinning tree trunk using its prehensile feet. Mark's confidence grew as Walking Stone gradually moved ever higher.

The Stone-Coat's head had almost reached surface-level when with a loud crack the log snapped near the middle. Walking Stone fell only two feet before catching himself with wide-spread arms and the jaw-held rope. He had released the log when it broke, and his legs and feet, after failing to grasp anything but air, hung uselessly. "I can only hold myself up this way for a few minutes," Walking Stone said calmly. "It may be necessary for me to fall to the bottom again and for you to seek more logs."

"Maybe not," said Mark. "The tree trunk hasn't fully broken in two, and it still nearly reaches to the top of the hole. It might still support much of your weight if you can reach it. There isn't time to get a new log."

"My legs are too short; I can't reach it," explained Walking Stone. "It has shifted just beyond my reach."

"Maybe I can move it closer to you," said Mark. "Can you support my added weight if I climb down the rope and on top of you?"

"Perhaps for a short time, but you would risk your life," replied the Stone-Coat. "Warm life forms such as yours are very delicate and ephemeral. The action that you propose is not advised."

"And what if you break a limb when you fall a second time and you can't climb out? Stone coat limbs can take days to heal; weeks if you lose the severed limb and you have to grow it from scratch from raw materials. You could also get mired down and have to lay there for over a thousand years before the ice melts. Our quest would then surely fail."

"Your death would also break the Treaty and cause quest failure," the Stone-Coat pointed out.

"Shut up, I'm saving you," said Mark, as he grasped the taut rope and swung himself off his ice perch and into the hole. Soon he was climbing down the Stone-Coat's body by grasping the folds of the poncho that covered it, and wrapping his legs around the massive Stone-Coat leg closest to the log. He was also soon shivering so hard that he could barely function. He realized that he should have put back on at least his sweatshirt before climbing down into a hole in an ice cavern where the temperature was below freezing. The leg of the Stone-Coat that he grasped was also freezing cold; Stone-Coats when physically active kept their body temperatures near the freezing temperature of water so that liquid/solid transitions could be easily managed and used for hydraulics.

"Your action is ill-advised, human," Walking Stone again protested.

"I'll reach out and grab the log and pull it towards your foot," Mark said. "Get ready to grab it with your toes when I tell you to."

With his legs still wrapped around the Stone-Coat's ankle Mark dove out and grasped the log to pull it back towards the waiting grasping toes. "Flint!" he exclaimed using the English name for the evil hearted Mohawk god, when the log stubbornly refused to move. He needed more leverage. He released his leg-grip on the Stone-Coat and swung himself out to fully support his weight using only the log. If the damaged log gave way he would likely fall to his death, but it held.

"Have you fallen?" the Stone-Coat asked. Walking Stonet couldn't see what Mark had done. Mark may have been imagining it, but he thought that he sensed a hint of anxiety in the usually monotonic voice of the Stone-Coat.

"No, I'm on the log," Mark explained. "Let me catch my breath for a moment and then I'll push it towards your foot. Get ready to grab it."

"I strongly advise that you to climb up my body now and escape your death," Walking Stone said. "Perhaps a replacement Stone-Coat unit could be assigned to monitor you."

"I'll happily climb out of this hole after you have grabbed the log," said Mark. "Get ready."

Mark had to use all the strength in his legs to push the log towards Walking Stone's waiting, grasping toes. It moved but not enough. Then with a crack of snapping wood it gave way and it moved towards Waking Stone. "Now!" he shouted, and the Stone-Coat's diamond-tipped toes soon successfully closed over the trunk.

"Climb over me and out of this hole now!" said Walking Stone. "You should climb out of this crevice before I test my weight on the log again. The strength of the weakened log is unknown."

"Will do!" agreed Mark, as he transferred from log to Stone-Coat and climbed up and out of the hole, thankful that previous to this experience he had spent hours climbing trees, rock, and ice while Walking Stone passively watched.

The Stone-Coat cautiously resumed his own climb out of the hole and was soon standing beside his grinning human companion. "Your plan worked," he noted.

"Let's try to not do that again," Mark said.

"Agreed. Will you now explain your laughter earlier?"

Mark shrugged as he gathered up rope and other equipment to pack it carefully into his backpack. "I was worried when you fell and relieved when you were OK and gave me your dorky geology report from the bottom of a deep ice-pit."

"You were worried about me?" the Stone-Coat asked.

"Yes, I guess I was. I never had to worry about you before; you've always been a big indestructible monster creature with ever staring eyes, but for a moment I thought that you were gone forever. I've gotten used to you being with me, I guess. I was relieved that you were OK; and sometimes I laugh when I'm happy. That's about all I can say about it."

"I still don't understand."

"Maybe you never will. People don't really understand emotions either, they just have them. They have to experience them for themselves to even begin to think that they understand them. You can't experience my personal emotions, only I can do that. The best that different folks can do is maybe experience similar emotions in similar situations. Then they feel that they understand each other and maybe become friends."

I follow the logic of your words but suspect that I still do not fully understand what you describe," said Walking Stone. "You seem to be implying that understanding is more than having the pertinent information."

"Yes, for sure," Mark agreed.

"I don't understand."

"My Mom says that you Stone-Coats seem to be alive but you don't have feelings like people and other animals do. You have a lot of information but it isn't tied together with ideas about the information and feelings like we humans have."

"To the contrary, our information is prioritized and assigned probabilities that reflect accuracy and utility, and linked together relationally."

"I'm not sure what you're saying. You really need to talk with older wiser people like my Dad to understand things better."

"Agreed, but the mission of this unit is to monitor you, not your father."

"Swell, but those kinds of questions are things that people have been arguing about for hundreds of years, so you may get more than one opinion, and you may get better answers out of select adult humans."

"The notion of 'opinions' is another thing we have difficulty understanding," noted Walking Stone. "Even when near identical information is provided to different humans, radically different conclusions sometimes result."

"Different people think in different ways, I guess. We're all wired a little different and our wiring is reshaped by our unique experiences. But here is a question for you. Do different Stone-Coats have different ideas about things? Different opinions?"

"Mostly not. For what we judge to be weighty matters a mountain of Stone-Coats can support the required thought process and adjudicate the so-called best answer, if it is required that there be only one answer. There is a very basic dichotomy involved involving multiple possible futures that emerge as but a single reality. However the most probable predictions can still be sought and usefully applied to influence actions taken. When the resources of multiple Stone-Coats are employed more complex algorithms and multiple simulations can be brought to bear to better predict the most probable of outcomes. The human disciplines of decision and game theory though rudimentary are applicable.

"My Dad tried to explain it all to me. You aren't really individuals, you are all part of one big super computer brain. Sort of like a jant hive-mind."

"Essentially correct, under normal circumstances. Right now to satisfy human spirit quest rules I operate without connection to other units. When only individual Stone-Coats are seeking an answer to the same problem, the computations of multiple individual units have been found to result in similar but not totally equivalent answers. Individual units share a common basic architecture and therefore all have nearly the same thoughts, but not exactly, for several reasons.

"To correspond with inaccuracies in sensed information we have long employed such things as probabilistic driven calculations that introduce some randomness into our findings. Further, quantum influences introduce uncertainty to logic and memory components of our thought processes, and there are also chaos driven phenomena that can become significant. In addition, results can be influenced by the number of processing subcomponents available, which varies significantly from unit to unit."

"So some Stone-Coat units have more brainpower than others," concluded Mark, who was pleased with himself to salvage some understanding from what he had just been told.

"Yes, that is what I just said," said Walking Stone. "It is useful that your brain development has reached a stage where such concepts are possible for you. But you may be over emphasizing the hive-mind aspect of Stone-Coat thought. Even when linked together we do compartmentalize much of our thoughts flexibly, much as the jants do with their multiple individuals and colonies. We are not simplistic dedicated computer systems with static architectures as typically designed by humans. Computers are a relatively simple human invention, though we have found it useful to emulate some clever human computer design properties. Humans have thereby helped Stone-Coats to become significantly more intelligent."

"That's nice," said Mark, as he finished packing his backpack. "I am also impressed that you can think and operate without being connected to your Mountain companions. This is all very interesting, but we need to get moving again. I'll lead this time, and poke my trekking poles through the snow to look for sinkholes."

"Why is Stone-Coats using human computer designs nice?" Walking Stone asked.

"Because everyone helping each other is a good thing," Mark explained. "If we are collectively smarter we can live better and be happier. If understanding human computers makes you Stone-Coats smarter that's a good thing that makes me happy."

"What does 'happy' mean?" asked the Stone-Coat.

Mark marveled at how much his formerly quiet companion had become so annoyingly inquisitive and talkative. His effort to formulate a suitable response to Walking Stone was interrupted by the distant but approaching roar of a helicopter that soon passed overhead, moving in the direction of the Tribe Caves. "Look! That must be Jerry Green coming to Giants' Rest!"

"Yes, I detect radio communications. Jerry Green is aboard the flying device we currently observe visually."

"I would like to see him in person," said Mark, as the helicopter dropped out of sight behind intervening Mountain foothills.

"If you wish I will soon be able to access Stone-Coat perceptions of him for you to see when he comes within visual sensing range," said Walking Stone.

"You can do that?"

"Anything any Stone-Coat senses can be sensed by any other Stone-Coat units, if communication is available and requests are made. The sight and sound of Jerry can be presented to you using one of my eyes as a small viewing screen. It is highly unlikely that seeing his image would provide any advantage to our quest, so it should in principle be permissible."

"That would be great! But you know what? You're right. It wouldn't help with our quest. It would be a distraction that could waste our time or put us in danger. So thanks but no thanks, Walking Stone. We'll find out what has happened when we get back. Now let's get going." With great effort Mark swung his heavy backpack onto his back; it was almost half as heavy as he was.

"I could carry your backpack," said Walking-Stone. "I have computed the extra energy expenditure on my part to be within allowable tolerances. I would need to stop to cool off only three percent more frequently."

"Great!" replied Mark, as he swung the heavy backpack off. "I was hoping that you'd offer to carry this."

"Then why wait for my offer? Why did you not yourself request several hours ago that I determine the feasibility of carrying it?" asked the Stone-Coat, as he hung the pack on one of his great shoulders.

"I compute that the explanation would be too long and complex and out of allowable quest tolerances for me to provide it at this time," said Mark. "Let's get going."

****

### Chapter 3: Jerry Arrives

The big helicopter landed on a flat expanse of bare granite that was next to the Deck, and the Tribe Leaders walked there to greet their guests. As the whine of its engines died down, a half-dozen men climbed down out of the chopper. Most appeared to be uniformed flight crew. Chief Ed immediately recognized man number five and stepped forward towards him with his hand extended. "Jerry Green!"

"Ed Rumsfeld!" said Jerry as he stepped forward and they shock hands vigorously. "It's been a very long time but you haven't changed a bit!" The others that had arrived with him made no motion to join their leader, but instead posted guards and began to inspect the aircraft's mechanical condition.

"Nor have you; at least not physically," said Ed. "You've made some surprising career choices though, since we were neighbors thirty-six years ago and you were a wanted fugitive."

"So have you, Chief," said Jerry. "You've gone from seventh-grade history teacher to Mohawk Chief!"

"Whodathunkit?" asked Ed.

"And this is of course Mary!" said Jerry, as Mary gave him her little greeting-hug along with a big smile.

"It's what's left of Mary after about thirty-six years of normal aging and wear and tear," she responded. "And this is Chief John Running Bear and his wife Religious Chief Talking Owl," she added.

"You've captured me at last, NSA agent Running Bear," Jerry quipped, as the Mohican stepped forward and the two men shook hands.

"Looks more like you captured yourself," Running Bear responded, nodding towards the big Government helicopter and the crew that surrounded it.

"ED HAS THOUGHT OFTEN OF YOU," pathed Talking Owl.

"AND I HAVE THOUGHT OFTEN OF HIM," Jerry pathed in response.

"BUT WE SHOULD SPEAK ALOUD," added Ed.

"I sense jants nearby but see no Stone-Coats," said Jerry.

"Looks are deceiving," said Ed. "All around us are structures reshaped from Granite by Stone-Coats, including the flat area where we stand." Under their feet was the flat helicopter landing pad.

"I see," said Jerry. "If we were to closely examine this granite, I suppose we would find carbon nanotubes and other evidence of Stone-Coat presence? Perhaps even computer-like structures that provide intelligence?"

"I'll let our Chief Scientist respond to that," said Ed. "This is of course Frank Gray Wolf, and his wife Morning Dove."

"It is an honor to meet you, Sir," said Frank.

"It is an honor for me to meet you at last in person after our many message exchanges," said Jerry. "And your lovely wife."

"Most evidence of Stone-Coat presence has gradually been withdrawn from this helicopter-pad and other structures, including most intelligence," explained Frank. "The carbon and other elements are too valuable to lie fallow; most of those resources have been reallocated elsewhere by the Stone-Coats, using molecular transport via carbon nanotubes and electrical charge. Only a small percentage remains for maintenance purposes."

"Fascinating!" exclaimed Jerry. "And when will I meet a mobile Stone-Coat?"

"During or after lunch," said Mary. "Your choice."

"I planned to give you a quick tour of a greenhouse under construction by Stone-Coats," explained Ed. "There is a mobile Stone-Coat unit in that greenhouse that you can meet. We can do that tour now or we could immediately eat lunch with or without the presence of the Stone-Coat. Your choice, Jerry. We are all at your service."

Jerry could smell the wonderful aroma of nearby food even from where they 'stood on the helicopter pad and he was indeed hungry after his long flight from Washington. "Let's eat lunch together now but also meet the Stone-Coat as soon as possible," he said.

He was soon enjoying traditional Mohawk food.

"The corn, beans, and squash are traditionally known as the Three Sisters," Mary noted. "For centuries they have formed the basis of the Tribe diet. The Tribe eats far less meat nowadays, but virtually all of our food is grown locally here on the Reservation in the greenhouses. With the ice sheet nearby refrigeration is of course no problem."

"Here comes Ruth Night Owl and her monitoring Stone-Coat Rocky," announced Ed.

A hundred yards away a small girl followed by a monstrous lumbering Stone-Coat had emerged from a greenhouse and were making their way towards the topside Deck. The Stone-Coat's diamond scales glittered spectacularly in the sunlight.

"Rocky?" laughed Jerry. "That's an appropriate but informal sounding name."

"We humans come up with the names we use to distinguish Stone-Coats, explained Frank Gray Wolf. Actual Stone-Coat unit designations are digital sequences that aren't very useful for normal direct verbal interactions with humans. Oops! It looks like Rocky is literally running out of steam! I'll get him some more water."

Half way to the Deck the Stone-Coat was surrounded by a cloud of steam and moving slower and slower using shorter and shorter steps, until it finally came to a complete stop.

"You big dummy!" they heard the girl exclaim loudly, before she dashed towards the eating group.

Gray Wolf met her half way holding a pitcher of water, which the girl quickly snatched and ran back to the Stone-Coat.

"Is something wrong?" Jerry asked.

"Merely an inconvenience," explained Ed. "For some reason yet unexplained Rocky was moving using steam rather than ice in his hydraulic system. I suspect that he literally blew a gasket and lost too much water. Now he's stuck until he gets more water."

As they watched, Gray Wolf boosted Ruth onto a big Stone-Coat shoulder and she poured water into the Stone-Coat's open mouth before Gray Wolfe helped her climb back down. Moments later, the Stone-Coat resumed its ponderous steps towards the Deck, but much slower this time. The impatient girl ran ahead to the waiting humans.

"Well, that was embarrassing," said the smiling ten-year old, as she stepped up to Jerry and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Ruth," she said. "And you're the famous Jerry Green from the Government."

"Sit down here and eat some lunch, young lady," said Mary, as she helped the girl out of her back-pack, sat her down next to Jerry, and passed her a plate of vegetables. "This is what we white people call a working lunch. Feel free to eat and talk at the same time."

"A Mohican tradition shared with the Mohawk!" claimed Running Bear. "And you, young lady, can explain why Rocky is without his sun reflecting poncho and is moving using steam."

"That's my fault, Chief John," she replied. "I wanted to show off Rocky's diamond scales to Mr. Green, so I took off his poncho in the greenhouse this morning. When we came outside he got too hot and switched to steam but that made him very weak and slow."

"But on the plus side his diamond scales are indeed spectacular," said Jerry.

"My Stone-Coat is the best!" said Ruth brightly.

Jerry and the other adults stood to properly greet the slowly approaching rock-creature. Jerry couldn't decide if in its general form it looked more like a monstrously husky mutant bear or an absurdly gigantic deformed mole, but it was definitely over six feet tall and yard wide, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The outside of it was covered in many faceted diamonds between the size of peas and baseballs, with the larger ones covering its torso and the smaller ones covering hands and face. The Mohawk name 'Stone-Coat' was well deserved.

Sunlight reflected and refracted by the diamonds was dazzling, and Jerry was glad that he wore sunglasses. Through the diamond layer elongated crystals of various colors could be seen dimly, along with cloudy nets of dark fibers: the graphene/carbon neural and circulatory system of the stone creatures. The big round eyes were black disks with a dull tinge of red that contrasted greatly with the surrounding diamond scaled skin. Oversized fingers and toes that ended in pointy diamond claws completed the unmistakable impression that this monstrous creature was incredibly powerful and potentially dangerous.

Its approach was pitifully slow and noisy; with each step its big feet and clawed toes scraped noisily across the granite surface of the Deck, no doubt gouging scrape marks into its surface that would be slowly repaired by Stone-Coat abilities still contained within the floor. "Verbal greetings, Jerry Green and Tribe Chiefs," said its mechanical voice as it approached closer.

"Greetings Rocky," replied Jerry. "I am very interested to at last personally meet with Stone-Coats."

"I suggest that you resume your consumption of energy containing organic materials," said Rocky. "I will similarly cool this unit to optimize its mobility. Communication will be available throughout my cooling process."

Jerry knew that the Stone-Coats had been studying human radio, television, and internet communications for decades before finally conversing with the Tribe, but he was nevertheless impressed by Rocky's ability to think and talk so human-like. Even small units like this one were incredibly sophisticated compared with the most advanced human robots. But being a biologist, Jerry understood that like humans, Stone-Coats had been painstakingly 'designed' through hundreds of millions of years of evolution. In principle their achievement of sentient consciousness was no more remarkable than that of humans and other intelligent animals such as dolphins and chimpanzees.

The Tribe humans sat back down and resumed eating, and Jerry followed suit. Meanwhile the Stone-Coat steadily moved past the table where the humans ate and settled into the phone-booth-like crystalline Stone-Coat cooling station next to it. What looked like smoke leaked over the top of the cooling-cubical walls and poured down its sides.

"He consumes dry ice to cool himself quickly," explained Gray Wolf. "I don't know exactly why their crystals don't shatter due to temperature differentials, but their nanotube impregnated crystals don't seem to shatter easily."

"Astounding!" said Jerry.

"Is Rocky what you expected?" Ed asked.

"And more," admitted Jerry. "For one thing its sheer bulk exceeds my expectations."

"That is to stabilize its temperature and to protect humans and jants from the radiation internal to itself that provides most of its power," explained Gray Wolf.

"Of course," said Jerry.

"I am also solar powered," voiced Rocky from in the cooling station booth. "These are among several design innovations introduced which better enable our function near humans in this hostile warm environment."

"You prefer cold?" asked Jerry.

"For efficient mobility, yes," said Rocky. "Climate warmth however has compensating advantages. Warmth stimulates plant growth. Plant life carbon fixing has long been exploited by us. Carbon is used for what you call our neural circuitry and material replenishment systems, and for our autonomous mobile units in particular, large quantities of carbon are required. We can acquire carbon from the atmosphere directly but not nearly as efficiently as plants can. Tribe humans for a considerable time hindered us but most recently have aided us by providing us much carbon and other useful elements."

"Yet after a few years you Stone-Coats stopped asking the Tribe to bring you metals and other materials from scrapyards," said Jerry. "Why is that?"

"We jump-started them by doing that but now they can better retrieve their own materials," explained Gray Wolf. "They grow great underground root-like systems of carbon nano-tubes that transport to them most of the elements they need from deep within the rock below. What to us are only trace amounts of rare elements not worth mining are bountiful treasures for them that can be found throughout their mineral habitats and retrieved by them. To acquire the balance of elements that they need they do consume some of the plants we grow and all of our human waste, but we are no longer asked to truck tons of scrap materials to them."

"Which is fortunate because we can no longer drive land vehicles to and from Giants' Rest except for small snowmobiles," noted Ed.

"And that is done only with great difficulty and danger," said Running Bear. "The ice is dangerous. Helicopter has become the preferred means of transport between us and the outside world. It is fortunate that the Stone-Coats are masters at obtaining the atomic elements that they need from the minerals around them."

"Unlike your life forms we also directly exploit the crystalline structures of minerals to provide structure for ourselves," added Rocky. "Igneous and metamorphic rock formations provide environments in which we thrive best, but sedimentary formations are also satisfactory, even though extra time and energy is required to re-establish suitable crystalline structures within them."

"The result is smart rocks," said Ed.

"For every hundred ton mobile Stone-Coat unit we see moving about there are millions of tons of immobile smart rock that we don't see," added Gray Wolf. "They are perhaps more analogous to mushrooms than they are to animals or sun-seeking plants, with most of their bulk hidden underground. There are unsung mushrooms with greater bulk than sequoia trees, but all we see of them are the little parts of them that bloom and produce spores that spread them around."

"An apt analogy," Rocky acknowledged. "Although the period of global warmth you humans have caused is not what we prefer, climate change has produced a very useful temporary period of cold in this local region that we are using to spread ourselves rapidly and to collect carbon using our mobile units."

"Yes, our satellite surveillance of this region has recorded extensive Stone-Coat movements," said Jerry. "I'm afraid that the secret of your existence will soon be out to humanity."

"Fifty foot tall giants walking about can at times be hard to miss," noted Ed.

"Agreed," said Rocky. "Internet rumors of our existence are increasing, despite your attempts to suppress them."

"Stone-Coats are of enormous interest to my team of scientists," said Jerry, "and you have developed a good and peaceful working relationship here with the Tribe. I see no reason to prematurely make Stone-Coats known to our public, but humans are curious information-hungry creatures, and will very soon know about you. I'll have to somehow try to manage that using my influence in the Government."

"It is a common problem that we share," said Walking Stone. "We also have suppressed knowledge about ourselves on the internet."

"We have noted your internet proficiency and it does not surprise me," said Jerry. "Our computer system protocols tend to be uniform and common and must be very simplistic compared to what you employ internally."

"Correct," Rocky acknowledged. "Human systems tend to be clever but uniform and ultimately relatively simple. Yet our study of your systems has given us insights into ourselves that has stimulated self-improvement."

"Rocky helps me with my computer," added Ruth. "He is super smart."

"Out of curiosity, how much immobile Stone-Coat computing power is allocated to supporting the function of the mobile Stone-Coat unit Rocky?" asked Jerry.

"The amount is highly variable, but usually far less than one-tenth of one percent," said Rocky, "and that is chiefly to provide data replication and communication. Each mobile unit has enough intelligence to operate autonomously, though my unit is close to the minimum size required to approximate human intelligence. More cognitive resources will be allocated when we discuss more complex matters."

"Then I suggest that our meetings be held in our Tribe caves," said Ed. "In the caves we are literally surrounded by millions of tons of smart rock. But first I wanted to give you a quick tour of our latest greenhouse. Rocky, are you cold enough to resume normal movement and to come with us?"

"Yes," said Rocky, "but I will need my parka. It is made of materials similar to what was once used by humans to construct early Earth-orbiting satellites."

"Very similar materials are used including the thin aluminum-based reflective layer," noted Gray Wolf, "except that the super strong Stone-Coat produced graphene form of carbon is used instead of other plastics. The result is improved Mylar."

Ruth removed Rocky's silvery colored parka from her backpack, and Running Bear and Gray Wolf helped the girl cover Rocky with it after he emerged from the cooling station. The entire group then set off for their tour.

"We grow crops all year in our greenhouses," Ed explained, after leading the party into the greenhouse furthest from the Deck. The greenhouse was an elongated building two hundred hundred yards long and ten yards wide. On either side of the center aisle, leafy green crops grew in elevated rows of soil that had been rescued from the Tribal fields before they were buried in ice year-long. "The soil was the critical living resource to preserve in our transition period. Under normal circumstances it can take a hundred years to develop a centimeter if good, living soil."

"We didn't have centuries," noted Frank. "Soil is our biggest continuing research and bioengineering project, carried out mostly by the jants, local and world-wide. There are tens of thousands of tiny soil organisms that are part of that research. That research is in turn related to research on the many tiny organisms that live within the bodies of jants, humans, and other macroscopic plants and animals. Some interesting parallels and relationships between soil critters and inner-body critters have been discovered. You are of course aware that there are more such organisms within a human body than a body has cells?"

"Certainly," said Jerry. "This is fascinating work that you describe! How is temperature controlled in the greenhouses?"

"A lot of plants like the ice-cooled temperatures we enjoy year-long," said Ed. "It's about seventy degrees in here now; not bad for July. In the winter Stone-Coat heated water is circulated under the floors, such that freezing temperatures are avoided and the more hearty greens still thrive. I especially like the sugar-snap peas."

"Even in the winter the greenhouses are still inconveniently warm for Stone-Coats that use ice expansion for hydraulics to provide for mobility," noted Rocky. "The cooling stations in the greenhouses are actually active Stone-Coat units that are needed year-long."

As they worked their way through the greenhouse Gray Wolf and Rocky identified minerals used to form the greenhouse and which building components were particularly active, while Mary and Talking Owl identified vegetables and other crops that were being grown. Dozens of Tribe members tended the vigorously growing crops, often in family groups, and exchanged friendly greetings with the touring group.

When they reached the far-end of the greenhouse, Rocky entered another Stone-Coat cooling station. Beyond it what looked like a heavy-duty transparent plastic shower curtain stretched across the greenhouse. A few feet beyond that, the greenhouse abruptly ended and opened into empty space ten feet above the ice sheet below. The edge of the greenhouse was covered in wispy mats of impossibly thin black-tinged fibers, so fine and dense that they looked like gray smoke.

"Here you see greenhouse construction in progress," said Ed. "Millions of microscopically tiny carbon nanotubes per share-inch are being employed to build this greenhouse one molecule at a time along its edge. You can see why the growth process is slow."

"Growth is close to an inch a day," added Running Bear. "This final greenhouse being constructed will someday be twice as long."

"Astounding!" said Jerry. "Can they similarly mend existing human concrete and steel structures?"

"Yes, they can," said Ed. "We don't have many of those anymore but Stone-Coats now completely maintain them. When they repair concrete they make it much stronger by replacing amorphous structure with long crystal fibers and adding a nanotube network and limited intelligence to repair any future deterioration. They can even do machine repairs, if you're willing to wait weeks to get them done. It took them a while to learn to not reflexively consume the carbon-rich engine oil in our combustion engine machines, but now they do most of our vehicle and appliance maintenance. They are repairing our old helicopter now. They even synthesize its fuel."

"What about human-made computer parts?" Jerry asked.

"We can repair most problems that arise in human computers," Rocky said, "though in many respects human computers are very crude. Sometimes we add design improvements instead of simply repairing human computing devices."

"Most impressive," said Jerry. "I notice that the greenhouse growth edges do not appear to require cooling. Growth is occurring in direct summer sunlight at temperatures well above freezing."

"Freezing temperatures support efficient liquid to solid state changes of water, and the resulting volume expansion enables effective hydraulic-based Stone-Coat mobility," said Gray Wolf. "Only the mobile units require this temperature range. More generally Stone-Coats compute thoughts and construct mineral structures over a much wider range of temperatures. Non-motion is actually the usual Stone-Coat status. They have apparently been mentally active continuously for hundreds of millions of years, but are effectively mobile mostly when ice-age glaciation periods or long winters occur."

A loud buzzing noise grew in volume and then abruptly stopped.

"It's one of those big flies!" said Ruth, pointing to the plastic curtain. In the outside surface of the transparent curtain, a gigantic blackish insect was walking about. The body was as large as that of a rabbit, though longer and thinner, and the length of the entire creature including wings was nearly two feet.

"It's looking for a way in," said Mary.

Just then the creature came to where two sides of the curtain met. A Velcro-like tearing sound could be heard when the fly forced the two sides to part far enough for it to squeeze through. It immediately took to the air and flew at Mary, where it was met by a karate chop from Running Bear before it could reach her. The fly, deterred but unharmed, bounced away and next landed atop Ruth's head before quickly being knocked away by Gray Wolf. Though startled, the girl seemed to also be unharmed.

"KILL THE TSIKS!" Talking Owl commanded, as her companion Yellow Claw launched itself screaming from her shoulder. The agile fly/tsiks dodged the reaching talons of the owl but after a loud popping sound it staggered in flight and dropped to the floor, where it laid twitching and dying.

"What just happened?" asked Jerry.

Running Bear knelt beside the still convulsing body of the fly and poked it with the big hunting knife that he now held. From the body of the dying fly several inches of ice as thick as a man's finger protruded. "Stone-Coat icicle, I suspect; spat by Rocky using radiation heated steam. Nice shooting, Rocky!"

"You shot the fly down with an icicle?" Ed asked Rocky, as the Stone-Coat emerged from the cold-station to inspect Ruth more closely. Some residual steam seeped out from his mouth

"It attacked my companion Ruth," the Stone-Coat explained. "Since this morning my protocol has been slightly altered towards closer companionship with Ruth. Protective measures were immediately employed without hesitation."

"I'm OK," Ruth reassured everyone. "I told you that my Stone-Coat is the best! And now he's even friendlier!" She stepped up to Rocky and gave him/it a big hug.

"Thank you for shooting the fly," said Ed. "You have the gratitude of the Tribe."

"Look! Many more flies are coming!" exclaimed Mary.

An increased buzzing sound could be heard, followed a loud thump, as a big fly body struck the overhead glass of the greenhouse. At least a dozen more followed.

"The dummies think they can fly through the glass!" said Ruth.

"Can they?" Jerry asked. "They're pretty damn big!"

"Unlikely," said Gray Wolf. "That glass is strong enough to withstand the weight of ten feet of snow, plus there are nearly invisible strands of carbon nanotubes laced through it. It is essentially super-strong safely glass. Even if they were to shatter a window I doubt that they could break through it."

"People outside on the Deck are being attacked," said Ed. He could sense their fear and the telepathic cries for help from some of them.

"As are area animals," added Talking Owl. "The flies swarm the sunny mountainsides where the remaining forest life is concentrated. The owls and other raptors battle them but they are greatly outnumbered. There is much death."

A dozen flies were walking about atop the greenhouse, searching for an opening big enough for them to exploit. There were indeed vent openings, but those were protected by strong gratings constructed of Stone-Coat shaped minerals. Another fly found its way into the greenhouse via the curtain and this time was quickly dispatched by Yellow Claw.

"WE ARE UNDER ATTACK BY GIANT FLIES," Ed pathed loudly to the Reservation at large. "STAY CALM AND STAY INSIDE THE GREENHOUSES AND CAVES. KILL ANY FLIES THAT YOU CAN. SECURITY FORCES WEARING GRAPHENE SUITS RESCUE THOSE TRIBE MEMBERS THAT ARE OUTSIDE AND SECURE THE CAVE AND GREENHOUSE ENTRANCES. SPEARS, SWORDS AND SHOTGUNS USED WITH CARE ARE RECOMMENDED."

"OK, this Chief has seen enough," Ed said aloud. "The flies are hereby official Tribe enemies and to be exterminated."

"How?" asked Mary.

"Damned if I know," admitted Ed.

"I hope my questing grandson knows," added Running Bear.

Even through the thick glass of the greenhouse, the buzzing of flies and sound of many shotgun blasts could be heard.

****

### Chapter 4: Red Claw

Mark and Walking Stone made good time with Mark leading the way. Using his trekking poles Mark twice discovered hidden crevices in the ice sheet in time to avoid disaster. Fortunately they had reached the northern shadow of Giants' Rest Mountain, where the icepack was more solid and the melting snow wasn't blindingly bright due to reflected sunlight. This side of the Mountain was covered in ice that towered above them to their left like a gigantic frozen waterfall.

Even in the shade walking atop ice, at human-level the July afternoon was close to fifty degrees and too warm for Walking Stone to sustain motion for longer than several minutes at a time. The Stone-Coat frequently vented hissing steam from deep within his radiation powered body, and paused to take in ice cold water. Every several minutes he needed to also lay down on the ice to further cool himself for a minute or two. As a result their net speed across the ice was hardly more than a mile an hour.

"GREETINGS CLAN BROTHER," came the thought from Red Claw, Mark's long-time friend.

Mark looked up in the direction of the thought and saw the big snowy owl flying towards him from the direction of distant Green Mountain. Its wide wings beat steadily but silently, carrying it swiftly across the wide expanse of white that separated Green Mountain from Giants' Rest Mountain. Mark was disappointed to note that the owl carried no dinner in its talons. "NO FOOD?"

"NO FOOD," the owl confirmed, as it landed atop a small rock outcropping nearby and studied Mark and his Stone-Coat companion with big sharp eyes. "ALL PREY FLEE ATTACKING BLACK THINGS."

"What? What attacking black things?" Mark remarked aloud.

"The bird is likely referring to the giant black flies that now attack the Reservation area," stated Walking Stone.

"The Reservation is being attacked?"

"Yes," stated the Stone-Coat. "I monitor Stone-Coat electronic signals that indicate an attack of thousands of giant flies. The attack began an hour ago."

"An hour ago?" Mark sputtered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The information was judged not to be relevant to this quest. The flies focus on sunny areas where warm-life is concentrated. We have moved into the shade of the Mountain where the flies are far less likely to come."

"Not relevant? My family and friends are on the Reservation! Of course it's relevant!"

"No humans have been killed," reported Walking Stone. "A few have been injured. None of your family is injured. This quest has not been compromised."

"Thank Tharuhyawa:ku!" said Mark.

"You say that sometimes," noted Walking Stone, "even though you sometimes also state that you do not believe in gods, including the Mohawk god Sky-Holder who you have just thanked. Why do you thank a god who you do not believe exists?"

"It's just an old saying," Mark explained. "Mom says it sometimes so I say it sometimes when I feel relieved. Besides, maybe Sky-Holder does exist; what do I know about it?"

"Gods do not exist," stated the Stone-Coat bluntly. "There is no objective evidence of them, merely supposition and wishful thinking driven by human emotional needs."

"And there will be no objective evidence of us unless we get going," Mark retorted. "We're already more than two hours behind my schedule."

"What schedule?" asked the Stone-Coat.

"The schedule that is part of my plan for Green Mountain."

"What plan for Green Mountain?" asked the Stone-Coat. "You have thus far been logically leading us to colder shaded areas north of Giant's Rest Mountain which favor my mobility. I had assumed that much to be your plan. You have not indicated additional planning."

"Coming here is only the first part of my plan," admitted Mark, "but it has nothing to do with your mobility; it has to do with my mobility. I made my plans assuming you wouldn't be with me. I assumed I would be traveling somewhat faster, even when considering rest periods needed due to backpack carrying."

"As that is no longer true perhaps your plan should be reviewed and reconsidered," said Walking Stone.

"Yes, and as now that the quest is for both of us we should make our plans together. I'm sorry Walking Stone; I guess I'm still used to you being merely an observer that follows me around."

"Understood. What is your baseline plan?" asked the Stone Coat.

"I plan to go to Green Mountain. Giants' Rest Mountain is hunted out, and Green Mountain is the closest peak that still has a forest with wild animals and a trout stream with fish. I have food in my backpack for only today and after that I have to find more food. I planned to camp on the sunny side of Green Mountain for two weeks with Red Claw, with him and me hunting and fishing for food."

"Logical," admitted Walking Stone. "Why then have we hiked to the north side of Giants' Rest Mountain and not directly towards Green Mountain?"

"Crossing the valley ice sheet directly would be suicide, the summer melting ice surface is too infirm," Mark explained. "I seek a Stone-Coat trail across the ice."

"Excellent plan," agreed Walking Stone. "Your young and small warm-life brain functions with surprising adequacy. But some small changes to your plan may become necessary. I will lose most mobility on the warm sunny side of Green Mountain."

"Oh!" said Mark. "I hadn't planned for that! We'll have to stay near the edge where ice meets rock, I suppose."

"Agreed," said Walking Stone. "You need to stay warm and I need to stay cold without benefit of convenient cooling stations. It presents an interesting problem for which you have already perhaps computed the optimum solution. We will apparently need to stay near the border where ice meets rock."

"Agreed," said Mark. "Now let's get going!"

"Squawk!" agreed the owl, as after a few flaps of its wings it settled comfortably atop Walking Stone's head for a free ride. The owl secured itself by firmly grasping each of the Stone-Coat's small diamond ears with its talons.

As he had done several times in years past Walking Stone estimated the impact of the extra weight, the warmth of the bird, and the shading of the sun it provided, and decided that carrying the flying warm creature was acceptable.

****

### Chapter 5: Jerry's Conference

"We require the participation of our Tribe friends in our talks," insisted Rocky. "The jants also."

"Very well," said Jerry Green. "But I must insist that what we discuss here be treated as secrets not to be disclosed to other humans. The information will have to be released very carefully."

"Agreed," said Ed. All the other humans present in the Council Chamber were used to keeping secrets and nodded in agreement. Ed, Mary, Running Bear, Talking Owl, and Gray Wolf were the Tribe representatives. These were humans that the Stone-Coats had dealt with for thirty-five years and perhaps trusted. Ruth played nearby but wore music-making headphones that prevented her listening to the meeting of the grown-ups. She was the lucky one, Ed thought.

"AGREED," echoed the jant contingent. Several hundred of the large-headed, large jawed ants were gathered in neat rows at the center of the small round wooden table, which along with several chairs for humans sat next to the cooling-station near the edge of the Tribe Council Chamber. Gray Wolf typed the jant response into a laptop computer, which was then displayed on screen and stated aloud by the computer for the benefit of telepathically mute Rocky, Running Bear, and Mary.

"As you all know, climate change is causing severe problems for humans," began Jerry. "You all have access to human news sources so I won't go into details."

"And what does that have to do with Stone-Coats?" Ed asked.

"Nothing, so far," said Jerry. "But now that the Stone-Coats are migrating sightings of them are increasing dramatically. United Stated and Canadian governments will soon need to acknowledge their existence. I have managed to gain Canadian cooperation so far by assuring them that Stone-Coats are harmless."

Ed resisted an impulse to laugh. In past centuries Stone-Coats had killed and consumed countless Tribe members that obstructed them.

"We Stone-Coats need take advantage of the brief period of regional cold in this region to replenish and spread ourselves," explained Walking Stone. "Our motion is necessary."

"Understood," said Jerry. "But we in Government fear what the reaction of our public might be when they find out about you. If you are perceived to be an enemy they will want military action taken against you. Some Canadians suspect a United States invasion plot and might independently attack Stone-Coats."

"That would be unwise for humans," stated Walking Stone. It was a simple statement, said in Stone-Coat fashion without emotion, but Ed and most of the Tribe members present knew it was also an implied threat.

"Yes, and it would also be the end of Tribe secrecy," noted Talking Owl. "All Stone-Coat paths over the ice sheet lead here to our Reservation, and the Tribe has kept Stone-Coats a secret for thousands of years. The Tribe could be perceived by other humans to be enemies of humanity."

"There will be enormous pressure on the Government to be in control of the situation," noted Jerry. "Some sort of Government action will be necessary, and my control of Government actions could become difficult."

"But you control the Government!" Ed pointed out.

"I do so largely by subtly steering public opinion in useful directions," said Jerry. "The humans in Government that follow me do not do so blindly. Many humans are always looking for scapegoats and behave fearfully and irrationally. The jants and their medical ticks were carefully introduced to humans as curers of cancer and other diseases. That has worked out rather well. Jants and their medical ticks are now welcomed world-wide by most humans, despite the huge inherent 'yuck' factor."

"ATTACKS ON JANTS BY HUMANS HAVE BECOME ACCEPTABLY RARE," acknowledged the jants.

"Inch long ants, even in great numbers, are less threatening than fifty-foot tall Stone-Coats," noted Running Bear. "I can state that from personal experience."

"But here at Giants' Rest humans, Stone-Coats, and jants live together and greatly benefit each other," noted Ed. "I don't see why that shouldn't be the approach world-wide."

"Agreed," said Jerry.

"Agreed," said Rocky. "In our experience if provoked humans can be a nuisance. If negotiated with they can be helpful and we Stone-Coats can benefit."

"AN ACCEPTABLE GOAL," agreed the jants. "WE HAVE ALSO BENEFITED FROM ASSOCIATION WITH HUMANS."

A gross understatement, thought Ed. Jerry created the jants in his garage.

"How do you propose that humans and Stone-Coats further benefit each other?" John Running Bear asked Jerry.

"As shown by what has been accomplished here on your Reservation, Stone-Coats could help humans in many ways," said Jerry. "You could help us fix our old bridges and buildings. You could help us produce electronic components. You could even help us gather rare elements from the Earth's crust and dispose of our atomic waste materials."

"All that you propose and more is technically feasible," said Rocky. "How would humans in return benefit Stone-Coats?"

"We would help spread Stone-Coat life across the Earth."

"Useful, but we are already gradually doing that," said Rocky, "particularly during ice age glacial periods."

"Humans could greatly accelerate that geologically slow process," said Jerry. "In a few years we could help you accomplish what could take you millions of years to do on your own."

"An interesting and valid point," acknowledged Rocky.

"I similarly helped the jants spread world-wide," said Jerry. "Without human help it could have taken centuries for them to do that on their own."

"TRUE," agreed the jants. "WE JANTS CREDIT OUR RAPID WORLD-WIDE SPREAD TO YOUR APPLICATION OF HUMAN SYSTEMS OF TRANSPORTATION. THE UNITED STATES POSTAL SERVICE HAS BEEN PARTICULARLY EFFECTIVE IN UNKNOWINGLY SPREADING OUR COLONIES."

"Stone-Coats are far heavier than ant colonies," pointed out Mary.

"But when as small as Rocky they can still be transported using common human shipping technologies," said Running Bear.

"Much smaller implants would be possible," said Rocky, "though they would not be immediately sentient."

"We might even be able to help Stone-Coats spread beyond Earth," said Jerry unexpectedly.

"What?" Ed asked.

"Explain," said Rocky.

"I have been considering re-establishing our national space program," said Jerry.

"But all space programs have been reduced to almost nothing so that people can concentrate on climate change driven problems!" noted Mary.

"People need causes to rally around," said Jerry. "They need something inspiring to strive for. Maybe we can't fix global warming anytime soon but by God we could put humans on Mars and beyond."

"I applaud the notion," said Frank Gray Wolf. "Space exploration is mega-big science. One of my greatest concerns is that because of climate change and stingy right-wing politics, funding for most science has already disappeared. But wouldn't what you propose be truly cost-prohibitive, not to mention too energy and material resource intensive?"

"Not with Stone-Coat help," said Jerry. "They could literally grow just about everything we need in a very 'green' way. Why be limited to Earth? Stone-Coats together with humans could colonize whole new planets and asteroids. Where we delicate humans cannot live, Stone-Coats might thrive."

Rocky stood silent and motionless for several seconds before replying. "Agreed," he finally said. "We seek more details. And we also note that humans are very short lived and frequently change their decisions even over the span of their own incredibly short lifetimes."

"True, it is always good to proceed with caution when dealing with humans," agreed Running Bear. "On the human side to last very long things need to be institutionalized and made part of our culture. That is not always easy. But the lure of exploration has always been a strong motivation in humans. A new space exploration program would be welcomed by many and help with Stone-Coat acceptance by humans if the Stone-Coats support the effort and make it affordable."

"AGREED," added the jants. "THE JANTS AGREE TO ASSIST IF INCLUDED WITH SPACE COLONIZATION PLANS. OUR COLLECTIVE INTELLIGENCE WOULD PROVE USEFUL. WE COULD ALSO UNDER SOME CONDITIONS FUNCTION AS EFFECTIVE BIOLOGICAL TERRAFORMING AGENTS. IN ADDITION WE, NOT HUMANS, ARE NOW THE EARTH'S PREEMINENT LEADERS IN THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCE FIELDS AND COULD PROVIDE SCIENCE SUPPORT."

Jerry, clearly taken by surprise, slowly nodded. "Agreed." He surveyed the meeting participants. "Again I stress to each of you that this meeting must not be disclosed to others. Human politics needs to be dealt with very carefully."

"Understood," said Running Bear. "Details remain to be established with regard to how to proceed on the several things we have discussed. Will you be staying with us for a while?"

"For only a day or two at most I think," said Jerry. "I dare not be out of Washington for longer than that."

"Super," said Mary. "I already readied some spots for you and your crew to stay in our Jant Clan Longhouse cave, assuming you won't mind bunking near the jants you created."

"We'll manage," said Jerry.

"We can also all dwell upon the new big issue we have been discussing," said Running Bear. "What I refer to is the problem of very soon making Stone-Coats known to the humans of the world in such a way that peace is maintained and we are not all destroyed."

"It is a big problem truly worthy of resolution by our Chief-for-the-month," said Mary.

"Swell," said Ed.

****

### Chapter 6: Deadly Trail

From the shady frozen north side of Giants' Rest Mountain a dozen well-trodden pathways across the ice sheets led in many different directions. In winter thousands of fifty-foot tall Stone-Coat Ice Giants each weighing hundreds of tons strode the paths day and night, going off to establish themselves throughout the Adirondacks and beyond into Canada. Even in the summer a few dozen of them set out across the ice during most nights.

"What a mess!" noted Mark, when he and Walking Stone reached the paths. Each path was a fifteen foot wide, ten to fifteen foot deep trench through the ice, made by the gigantic tramping feet of hundreds of massive Stone-Coat Ice Giants. Some of the footprints were now ten-foot long puddles of cold water up to a foot deep. Little streamlets of melt-water were everywhere. At scattered points the streamlets disappeared into deep gurgling fissures in the ice.

The trench/path they wanted to use had been scouted by Red Claw. It led east-north-east and skirted the shady side of Green Mountain, seven miles away across the ice. "We will need to stay to the right side of the path," said Walking Stone. Indeed, the right side of the path was shaded and the crisp air above it near freezing due to it being deep below the surface level of the ice sheet. The ice there was fairly solid and featured fewer puddles and streamlets from melting. The left side was a dripping crumbling wall of mush.

Mark with his crampon shod boots and tracking poles and Walking Stone with his diamond claws each were at times able to walk at nearly two miles an hour even over the irregular surface covered by gigantic footprints. Gradually the ice and granite peak that was Giants' Rest Mountain disappeared from view behind them and only miles of endless trench could be seen both behind and ahead of them.

"Big crevice," Mark warned, as three-foot wide split in the ice suddenly appeared in front of him. Far below he could hear running water. Looking to the left and right, he found that this was the narrowest place to cross the opening. The bigger Stone-Coats of course simply stepped across it without difficulty. "I can jump across it but I'm not sure that you can. Throw the pack across."

The owl flew ahead, Mark easily jumped across, and Walking Stone tossed the backpack across without difficulty. That left only Walking Stone to cross. "Stone-Coats do not jump," he noted, "but I compute that I will be able to cross it if I take an unusually long stride and have sufficient speed. However the ability of the ice on either side of the opening to support my weight is highly questionable."

Mark dug his climbing rope out of his pack and tossed one end towards Walking Stone and the Stone-Coat caught it in his huge right hand. "Hold the rope in your mouth and if it looks like it you need help I'll pull on it," instructed Mark. "It will only be a small pull compared to your weight but it could provide the little extra force needed to get you across. Leave your hands free to grab at the ice if it comes to that."

Walking Stone first cooled himself off by lying on the ice for a few minutes.

Meanwhile Mark took stock of their status. Before them and too their right broad Green Mountain at last loomed, ice covered on its north edge and green on its south side. The Stone-Coat path they followed skirted the shady north side of the peak. In an hour or so they would have to leave the path and move towards the southern green side of the Mountain, but it would probably be dark long before that. They were already three hours behind his original schedule and it would probably be midnight or later before they reached their wooded destination.

Walking Stone stood up and backed away from the crevice before speed-walking towards it at more than twice his usual speed. On his end of the rope Mark kept pace by dashing at his top speed and keeping the rope taut.

Walking Stone's right foot landed solidly on the far side of the yawning gap as his left foot pushed off powerfully. His body was halfway across the gap when with an audible snap the ice crumbled under the tons of weight applied by his right foot and the Stone-Coat dropped down into the icy crevice.

Mark pulled with all his strength on the rope and though he came to a dead stop he was pleasantly surprised not to be pulled back and into the crevice. Glancing back he saw that Walking Stone's head, shoulders, and arms were still visible above the lip of the fissure. The three-inch long diamond claws of his big fingers were dug into the ice in front of him, and he still held the rope in his jaws.

"Keep pulling in the rope!" said Walking Stone, as with his huge arms he pulled himself forward and out of the dark yawning gap in the ice inch by inch using inhuman strength.

Adrenalin powered, Mark pulled for all he was worth, for long seconds that seemed like minutes. Finally most of the Stone-Coat's great mass was safely out and away from the crevice.

Walking Stone's efforts had generated considerable internal heat and he lay down on the ice to cool off. Mark was similarly exhausted and a dozen yards away was also lying on the ice to recuperate.

"Hey! I thought we weren't supposed to do that sort of thing again," Mark complained, but he was grinning. "You are definitely slowing me down." He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and tied it, rather than rest his head on the bare ice.

"Your puny efforts again made a big difference, human," Walking Stone was saying when the flies struck.

Mark only heard their buzzing for a moment, not even long enough for him to register what he was hearing, and then five of the creatures were on him, nipping at him with sharp, raspy, sucking mouths that would have dug into his flesh had he not been covered in jacket and leggings that were reinforced by thread spun from Stone-Coat made carbon nanotubes a hundred times stronger than steel. But the attackers soon sensed that the boy's uncovered hands and face were vulnerable, and they quickly refocused their attack.

Walking Stone heard the boy's screams mixed in with the buzzing of the flies and the screeching of Red Claw, and stumbled to Mark to find a dozen flies attacking his human companion's face. The boy was flailing wildly with his arms and knocking most of the creatures back but they threatened to overcome him with their sheer numbers.

Walking Stone dispatched several flies by spearing them with deadly icicles propelled from his mouth by steam, and quickly crushed several others in his big stone hands and jaws, but more of them kept coming. He pulled the boy into a nearby unusually deep depression in the ice made by the toe of a gigantic Stone-Coat and lay atop him, blocking the flies with his stony body. The soft creatures could do nothing to harm a Stone-Coat, and any that landed on him had the bottoms of their feet dissolved by his nanotube filled skin and they quickly flew away. The remaining flies cannibalized the flies that had been killed and flew away in minutes when there was nothing else to eat.

"Are they gone? Let me up!" came the muffled but insistent voice of Mark from underneath his stone protector.

Walking Stone stood up and Mark crawled slowly out of the toe-print, bleeding from several superficial gouges on his face and hands, but not badly injured. His tough hooded clothing and his companions had saved him. "Red Claw," he mumbled immediately, as he stood up and stumbled unsteadily to a spot several yards away where the grisly scattered remains of the owl lay. There were white feathers and bloody bones and nothing else left of the valiant bird. A dozen fly wings and other tough bits of fly were mixed in with the feathers, showing that the bird had not died easily.

Mark Dawn Owl dropped to his suddenly weak knees in shock, tears quickly forming in his eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" he shouted angrily, jumped up, and waved his arms impotently. "He was supposed to become my official clan brother! We were going to grow up together!"

"Stillness and quiet is advised," cautioned Walking Stone. "The flies may sense your motion or sound and return."

"Good! Let them! I'll kill them! I'll kill them all!" He pulled his forgotten hunting knife out and held it tightly as he searched the empty skies for flies. There were none.

"It is beginning to get dark," noted Walking Stone. "The flies will become inactive without the stimulation and warmth of sunlight. They seek somewhere warmer than ice and melting snow to rest for the night. You need to do the same. It is unfortunate that Red Claw has been killed but we must move on."

"He should have flown away when they attacked," reasoned Mark. "I should have ordered him to fly away. He would have escaped them and he would still be alive. I sensed him fighting and dying soon after the flies attacked, but I did nothing but selfishly try to fight off my own attackers while crying out for help like a helpless baby."

"I did not sense his dying battle," said Walking Stone. "My focus was on you. You were fully occupied by the flies and their attack happened too quickly for you to do anything other than take the defensive measures for yourself that you did. I was similarly occupied. I also conclude that you could not have saved him; you could not even save yourself. Besides, he would not have left you even if you had told him to do so."

"What?"

"He has shown that he was truly your clan brother," explained Walking Stone. "You refused to leave me alone in the ice even when I told you to do so. You would not leave me, and you risked your life for me and for our quest together. Similarly, Red Claw would never have left you. Like me, he was truly your clan brother. He could have flown away, but his solution to the attack problem was to stay and fight. That was the trade-off that he chose to make for your sake. His solution was not perfect, as there was no entirely satisfactory solution available to him, but he did the best that he could. One of the many flies that he killed could have killed you."

"He was a hero, and my friend."

"Yes. Such acts of sacrifice are something that you warm creatures sometimes do for each other, even though you are very frail and short-lived. You do not even have redundant memories! Such self-sacrifice is a phenomenon under our intensive study."

With tears in his eyes Mark picked up a small soft owl feather and put it in his tee-shirt pocket, over his heart. When he readied his pack he made another grim discovery. The ravenous flies had ripped open the pouch carrying his food and eaten everything. He had been looking forward to eating turkey sandwiches at the end of the day; now he had nothing to eat or drink except a half-empty canteen of water. He should have eaten earlier! His stomach suddenly felt painfully empty. He cleaned the empty fly fouled food pouch in a puddle of ice-cold water, filled his canteen, and they moved on.

Walking Stone led the way using infrared vision when it became completely dark, and Mark followed as best he could. Fog was quickly forming in the ice-chilled summer air; by dawn this entire ice -covered region of the North American continent would be shrouded in thick fog that would linger for much of the following day. Near the ice the temperature of the ice-chilled fog was near freezing.

They removed Walking Stone's parka and packed it away in the backpack. The Stone-Coat no longer had to make frequent stops to cool himself off. The radioactive Stone-Coat glowed slightly and Mark literally followed in his big footsteps, occasionally stumbling and catching himself on increasingly sore hands and knees. It was a moonless night, dark and silent except for the glowing Stone-Coat, whose every footstep crunched into ice or splashed into a water-filled giant footprint. Mark's own heavy breathing and the crunch of his own ice-gripping crampon-clad boots was comparatively quiet.

The boy was increasingly tired, hungry, and distraught. What had made him ever think that he could reach Green Mountain in a single morning and afternoon? He had to push himself to the limit of his strength to keep up with Walking Stone. His Stone-Coat companion had not really hindered him at all, he realized. If he had come on this quest without Walking Stone he would likely by now be miles further back along this endless path, totally exhausted from carrying the heavy pack or eaten by flies.

The invigorated Stone-Coat was essentially tireless, but his human companion was not. Mark's legs increasingly ached and he was breathing too hard. Perhaps they should stop here for the night, Mark thought. It would be cold sleeping atop the ice in his light sleeping-bag but he was becoming too tired to go on; he was even more tired than hungry. He was about to suggest to Walking Stone that they stop when he heard a distant splashing of puddles and crunching of ice behind them that could only mean that Ice Giants that were rapidly overtaking the questers.

"Many big Stone Coats come," confirmed Walking Stone. "We need to get off the path now and let them pass by us. It is near to where we needed to get off this path anyway, for we are near Green Mountain."

In the dull light that his glowing companion created, the ten to fifteen foot walls of ice to either side of the Stone-Coat pathway loomed impossibly high. "Do we have to?" asked Mark. "I've never heard of a Stone-Coat walking on a person or another Stone-Coat. Won't they simply step over or around us?"

"Not in this situation. They have been instructed to completely ignore us, so that means that they could by chance step on us."

"That's totally stupid!" remarked Mark. "Stepping on us would be interfering with us and that would be against the quest rules!"

"Perhaps they would agree to your very logical interpretation but unfortunately during our quest they are forbidden from communicating with us," explained Walking Stone.

Not far enough behind them, Mark could hear the cracking and crushing of ice, and he could already see several pairs of huge red glowing eyes fifty to sixty feet above the fog-covered path, moving steadily towards them. These Stone-Coat Ice Giants of Mohawk legend were setting off to colonize some unknown distant rock outcroppings, perhaps in distant Canada. In the summer they walked by night and concealed and cooled themselves in the ice sheet by day. "They're too close! Why didn't you detect them sooner?"

"Their radio communication is sporadic and limited to help avoid detection by humans," said Walking Stone. "They walk quietly and swiftly and only at night."

"Nifty, but now we need to climb up and away from this path."

"Yes, here along the southern edge of the path, where the ice is shaded and most firm and might bear our weight," agreed Walking Stone, who rotated his head to scan the cliff using his infra-red night vision. "I see no nearby point where our egress is favored." The cliff bordering the giant-worn pathway here was nearly fifteen feet high and made of slippery vertical ice smoothed by repeated melting and refreezing. Towards the bottom it was solid ice, near the top it was melting mush that due to summer warmth tended to break off in big heavy chunks.

Mark retrieved his ice axe and rope from the backpack before having Walking Stone toss it up and atop the cliff. When Mark climbed up and stood atop Walking Stone's upraised hands his own upheld hands were nearly level with the top edge of the ice cliff. At first the boy thought that it would be easy for him to climb the rest of the way out, but when he drove his axe into the ice a water-soaked chunk if it bigger than his head easily broke off and fell onto his face and then onto Walking Stone. "The ice is far too soft!" he complained. "It won't even hold my weight much less yours!"

"Knock down the soft surface ice," said Walking Stone. "It should be more solid underneath."

Almost blindly in the dark Mark chopped away at the ice as far as he could reach with the short-handled ice axe, knocking big chunks of it down that nearly knocked him off the upraised hands of Walking Stone. Before long he had carved a boy-sized niche into ice that seemed firm enough to hold his weight. "It will easily hold me but not you," he told Walking Stone. "After I climb off of you, claw yourself into the ice wall or you'll be trampled!"

"Affirmative," agreed Walking Stone. "Here comes the first Ice Giant."

As Mark drove his axe hard into the ice as high as he could reach and lifted himself off of Walking Stone, he saw silhouetted against the starry sky the immense towering dark shape of the lead Ice Giant rapidly bearing down on them with twenty-foot strides. Its dinner-dish sized red glowing eyes didn't appear to even register the presence of the questers; this Ice Giant was indeed completely ignoring them. The ice sheet cracked and shook with each monstrous step it took as hundreds of tons of rock pounded the pathway and two-foot long diamond claws dug into crunching ice.

In the glowing light cast by his Stone-Coat companion Mark glimpsed an immense leg swing by him only three feet from where he was perched in the cliff wall, while a broad foot with its immense claws came within scant inches of Walking-Stone's back. It was perhaps sixty feet tall; the creature's knees were nearly as high as the nook in the ice where Mark cowered. At the same time a huge clawed hand swung past only a few feet above him, causing a sudden rush of air that threatened to tumble him from his perch.

"That was too close," Mark noted. He had seen the big Ice Giants many times before, but not this terrifyingly near. They looked almost exactly like Walking Stone but they were a couple of hundred times bigger and a thousand times scarier. Most of them also lacked ears and voices. "Dig yourself in!" Mark advised his Stone-Coat companion.

Walking Stone was already desperately clawing away with hands and feet at the ice-wall, gouging out great chunks of ice. He stopped digging and threw himself against the wall again as the second Ice Giant reached them. This Ice Giant's huge foot landed directly behind Walking Stone, knocking him hard against the ice wall as it fell. The Ice Giants also favored the firmer shady side of their path, Mark belatedly realized with 20-20 hindsight. If he and Walking Stone had simply moved to the other side of the path they might have completely escaped the strides of these giants.

Walking Stone had clawed himself halfway into the ice wall when the third Ice Giant's right foot struck him a glancing blow and he tumbled onto the path. Mark watched in horror as the Ice Giant's swinging left foot kicked Walking Stone solidly, knocking him completely out of sight. "Walking Stone!" he shouted repeatedly, but he got no reply as a dozen more Ice Giants marched past noisily. "Stupid Stone-Coats!" he shouted angrily, as the last of them marched away. "You are breaking our agreement!" He climbed the rest of the way up and out of the path/trench, then for the next half an hour he shouted down at the path for Walking Stone without receiving any reply. There was only silence and the never-ending sound of running water. He was on his own.

Now what? The forests of Green Mountain were a distant dream. It would be suicide for him to go on alone in the dark across the ice sheet. More important, he simply had to find his partner Walking Stone. Was he destroyed or merely injured? Or had he simply been kicked so far down the path that he was out of shouting range and possibly lost?

Mark retrieved his pack and dropped it back down onto the Stone-Coat pathway, then cautiously climbed down after it. He wasn't worried about more Ice Giants coming this night; Ice Giants left Giants' Rest Mountain all at once in the early evening to maximize their nighttime marching time. He had been using his tiny keychain-sized little flashlight. Now he got his larger flashlight out of the backpack and put away his ice axe and rope and began a thorough search for Walking Stone, while periodically calling his name aloud and listening in vain for a reply.

He sensed nothing but ice, puddles, and little streamlets that gurgled down into deep openings in the ice. Then fifty yards further along the path he found the mangled arm. Including the hand at one end and the elbow at the other it was over two feet long. Shredded strands of carbon nanotubes hung from the broken end.

"Flint!" Mark cursed using the English name for the oftentimes troublesome Mohawk deity. Then using his little flashlight he resumed searching for the rest of Walking Stone. After searching for a half hour without result he returned to the broken off arm. As it lay palm-upward he noticed the fingers move ineffectively, like a turtle trying to right itself.

"Of course!" Mark realized, the arm was still alive, in the Stone-Coat sense. He remembered old stories about Stone-Coats reassembling themselves after being blown to pieces. He turned the forearm over, so that the fingers could walk upon the ice pathway. Immediately it turned itself around in the opposite direction and began to ever so slowly crawl along the path, fingers digging into the ice to pull the forearm along. It was emitting and detecting electronic signals, Mark suspected, and moving towards some other part of itself. Mark used his boot to push it along faster, but its crawling motion was still agonizingly slow. Most of Walking Stone's nuclear power sources were concentrated deep in his core; the isolated forearm had little energy reserves of its own.

At last it reached a big new Stone-Coat footprint-puddle and readily crawled into it, nearly disappearing from sight in foot-deep water that reflected most illumination from his flashlight. It crawled to the middle of the puddle and stopped. With his flashlight Mark could at first barely make-out only the arm and nothing else.

Suddenly he realized that Walking Stone had been dully glowing when he disappeared. He turned off his flashlight, plunging the world around him into darkness. Below the forearm something larger glowed dully under the clear water and ice.

"Flint!" Mark swore, when he realized it was Walking Stone, or at least a big part of him, pushed down into the ice of the path by hundreds of tons of Ice Giant weight! Mark had walked past this spot in the dark a half-dozen times without even noticing him! He searched with his bare hands into the numbingly cold water and felt a small patch of pebbly Stone-Coat skin instead of ice. It was Walking Stone; it had to be!

He clicked the flashlight back on and retrieved the ice axe and wood-axe from his pack, and used them to chop an outlet for the water to drain from the big footprint. The resulting exposed Stone-Coat skin further confirmed that the buried object was indeed Walking Stone. The diamond scales even felt a little warm to Mark's touch; Walking Stone was trying to melt himself out but in an hour hadn't made any noticeable progress; the ice prison that held him was too huge, and easily absorbed his body-heat.

Mark tapped the exposed Stone-Coat skin of his companion a few times with his hatchet, hopefully signaling his presence, and then got to work with his ice axe, chipping chunk after chunk of ice off of the immobilized Stone-Coat.

It soon became apparent that Walking Stone had been crushed down headfirst into the ice path. Within an hour Mark had cleared away several inches of ice from his companion's back, head, and limbs. Abruptly the Stone-Coat flexed and broke the remaining ice that confined him. Soon he stood before Mark, apparently whole except for a conspicuously missing forearm.

"Let's not do that again either," said Mark, as with difficulty he lifted up the heavy detached forearm and handed it to Walking Stone.

"Agreed. Without your aid I may have been inconveniently entrapped for an indeterminate period of time, perhaps for several days and nights while being trampled nightly underfoot. It would have been the end of the quest."

"Your severed arm led me to you," Mark noted.

"A fortuitous loss of limb," Walking Stone said.

"You were lucky only to lose an arm, I suppose."

"There were serious fractures elsewhere but I healed them while in my icy tomb."

"Icy tomb? That's a poetically human expression! I bet you plagiarized that from something you found on the internet! How long will it take you to re-attach your arm?" Walking Stone had already shoved together the broken arm but it would take time for the minerals to meld.

"Overnight," said the Stone-Coat. "I will doubtless need the use of all of my limbs to climb out of this pathway and traverse the ice sheet, so we are unfortunately not going to reach your Green Mountain sanctuary tonight."

"That's alright, I'm too tired to go any further anyway," said Mark.

"And hungry?"

"I'll live. I'll find a dry spot for my little sleeping pad and bag, and you can find a nice cold spot for yourself. The night should be pleasantly uneventful."

"Affirmative," agreed Walking Stone.

****

### Chapter 7: The Immortals

Without incident Jerry and his helicopter crew settled in comfortably for the night in the Jant Clan Longhouse cave, along with the regular Clan members including Ed and Mary. In the center of the longhouse were several refrigerator-sized mounds of earth that contained millions of jants. There were several special six inch in diameter jant-tunnels that led from there out to the Deck and to each greenhouse. After going to bed and most of the Jant Clan and jants had settled down including Mary, Jerry and Ed at last were able to silently carry on a one-on-one conversation telepathically as they rested in rooms only a few dozen feet apart.

"ARE YOU REALLY SERIOUS ABOUT INTERPLANETARY SPACE TRAVEL?" Ed asked his old Virginia neighbor.

"VERY SERIOUS, EVEN IF IT TAKES MORE THAN A CENTURY TO ACCOMPLISH," Jerry responded. "THE PROJECT WILL GIVE HUMANITY SOMETHING TO UNIFY AROUND AND STRIVE TOWARDS: SOMETHING FOR THEIR DECEDENT'S TO FINALLY ACHIEVE. TO GET THROUGH THE PRESENT WE NEED TO LOOK BEYOND CLIMATE CHANGE PROBLEMS TO OUR FUTURE, INCLUDING A FUTURE AMONG THE STARS. HUNDREDS OF EARTH-LIKE PLANETS HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED SO FAR. WE NEED TO GET OURSELVES TO SOME OF THEM, EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE TENS OF LIGHT YEARS AWAY."

"DID YOU PLAN ON GOING YOURSELF, JERRY?" Ed had to ask.

"IF I LIVE THAT LONG; AND ALL INDICATIONS ARE THAT I'M NOT GOING TO DIE ANYTIME SOON FOR HEALTH REASONS," said Jerry. "AND NEITHER ARE YOU."

"HAVE YOU FIGURED OUT WHY WE AREN'T AGING?" Ed asked.

"NO."

"BUT YOU'VE BEEN WORKING ON IT, RIGHT?" Ed wanted to know. "YOU DO HAVE CONTROL OF A BUNCH OF GOVERNMENT LABS NOW. ARE THEY WORKING ON IT?"

"NO," pathed Jerry. "IN THE COURSE OF THE ARMY ANT INVASION AND THE FEDS ON MY TAIL I LOST TRACK OF THE DRUG MIXTURE WE WERE BOTH EXPOSED TO THAT DAY. BUT THAT IS JUST AS WELL. HOW WE GAINED OUR APPARENT IMMORTALITY WOULD BE DANGEROUS KNOWLEDGE AND HIGHLY DESTRUCTIVE IF IT SPREAD. I'M CONTENT TO REGARD IT AS A HAPPY ACCIDENT THAT NEED NOT BE REPEATED."

"HAPPY!" Ed sputtered, almost too flabbergasted to focus his thoughts. "I WATCH ON HELPLESSLY AS MY LOVED ONES AGE AND DIE! YOU MAY VALUE YOUR IMMORTALITY JERRY, BUT I CERTAINLY DON'T! I WANT YOU TO FIND ME A CURE!"

"REALLY?" Jerry responded, genuinely surprised. "SORRY ED, BUT FRANKLY, I'VE BEEN TOO OCCUPIED WITH OTHER THINGS. YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THE BIGGER PICTURE."

"DANDY. SUCH AS YOUR SPACE PROJECT, I SUPPOSE. WELL, I SUPPOSE YOUR SPACE PROJECT WOULD ALSO GIVE THE STONE-COATS AND JANTS SOMETHING TO OCCUPY THEM. THEIR BUY-IN ON A PARTNERSHIP WITH HUMANS IS ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL."

"AGREED," said Jerry.

"AS YOU SAW FROM OUR MEETINGS TODAY BOTH THE STONE-COATS AND THE JANTS ARE HIGHLY LOGICAL AND PRACTICAL," said Ed. "HUMAN SUPPORT WILL BE THE HARDEST TO GET AND SUSTAIN. MOST PEOPLE ARE BUSY JUST TRYING TO SURVIVE NOWADAYS. BUT YOU ARE CORRECT; MERE SURVIVAL HAS NEVER BEEN ENOUGH FOR HUMANS."

"HERE ON THE RESERVATION YOU HAVE DONE REMARKABLY WELL TO SURVIVE," noted Jerry. "YOU'VE TAKEN YOUR STONE-COAT PROBLEM AND MADE A SOLUTION OF IT. BUT THE TRIBE IS IN TURMOIL; I CAN SENSE IT IN THEIR THOUGHTS. SURVIVAL IS NOT ENOUGH FOR THE TRIBE EITHER."

"YES, YOU ARE RIGHT," Ed agreed. "WE ALL NEED A BIGGER VISION; ONE THAT TRIBE, HUMANITY, STONE-COATS AND JANTS ALL OWN."

"DEVELOPING BOTH JANT AND STONE-COAT BUY-IN FOR OUR AGREEMENT INCLUDING THE SPACE PROGRAM IS ESSENTIAL FROM A WORLD-WIDE SURVIVAL PERSPECTIVE," said Jerry. "BOTH JANTS AND STONE-COATS MAY ALREADY BE FAR MORE FAR POWERFUL AND DANGEROUS THAN EVEN YOU AND I KNOW THEM TO BE. THEY HAVE TO BE MADE OUR ALLIES."

"JANTS HAVE LIMITATIONS THAT WE LARGER SIZED HUMANS COMPLEMENT, AND THAT IS TRUE OF THE STONE COATS AS WELL," said Ed. "I THINK THEY ARE BOTH BECOMING WISE ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND THAT. FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE THEY NEED US AS MUCH AS WE NEED THEM, BUT THEY ARE RIGHT TO DISTRUST HUMANS. HUMANS ARE DEFINITELY THE MOST UNPREDICTABLE MEMBERS OF OUR THREE WAY PARTNERSHIP."

"YOU AND I NEED TO CONTINUE TO WORK ON ESTABLISHING AND MAINTAINING THE HUMAN RELATIONSHIP WITH BOTH STONE-COATS AND JANTS," said Jerry. "CONVENIENTLY, ACCORDING TO MY ANALYSIS OF OUR MEDICAL CONDITION, UNLESS WE SUFFER CATASTROPHIC PHYSICAL DAMAGE YOU AND I SHOULD LIVE FOR MANY CENTURIES."

"AND WITH GREAT PERSONAL POWER COMES GREAT PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY, I SUPPOSE," Ed lamented.

"I SUPPOSE IT ALSO," agreed Jerry. "HUMAN SURVIVAL COULD BE UP TO YOU AND ME."

"SWELL!" concluded Ed, with as much sarcasm as he could telepathically manage.

****

### Chapter 8: Ann

The next morning was fortunately overcast and cooler, and was a much better day for traveling on the ice sheet for Mark and Walking Stone. The ice was a bit firmer and Walking Stone needed fewer cooling stops. Mark again led the way and avoided dangerous crevices. They were constantly on the watch for flies but encountered no more of them so far. Walking Stone surmised that the flies needed a warm-up period in the morning before they were prepared to fly. Nevertheless as a precaution Mark wore his uncomfortably warm fly-proof leggings and hooded jacket and carried his hatchet on his belt, while Walking Stone made sure to contain within himself a large quantity of water that could be converted to steam-driven ice-projectiles if necessary. By midmorning the pair reached well forested Green Mountain without incident.

Mark was happy to be in wonderful old growth forest: one of the last patches of forest that still survived the encroaching ice sheets. This wooded sanctuary was a favorite place for the Tribe to visit, even before the ice-sheets came. The Tribe and by treaty with them the Stone-Coats preserved this special place as a wildlife sanctuary, and it was the favorite summer camping spot for the Tribe.

Mark was pleased to soon discover that there were still large scattered patches of snow in the forest that Walking Stone could use as cooling stations, such that the pair would not be forced to remain near the ice sheet. That meant that they could camp in the forest spot that was long a favorite campsite for the Tribe. This and being in the forest brightened Mark's mood considerably, though he still grieved over the loss of Red Claw.

The two questers would have Green Mountain to themselves, for the Tribe would avoid the area until the spirit quest was concluded. In accordance with custom Mark had disclosed his intended general location to the Wolf Clan Leader, who in turn ensured that Tribe security patrols and others would avoid Green Mountain for the next two weeks. Since most questers chose Green Mountain as the place where they camped, and most questing happened in early July, restricted access to Green Mountain during early July was common for the Tribe. Mark and Walking Stone had camped here with Grandfather Running Bear in August the previous summer, in preparation for this quest. They hadn't crossed the dangerous ice-sheet on foot to get there however; the Tribe helicopter had flown them to and from the campgrounds, along with several other campers.

While the northern slopes of Green Mountain were now covered in ice year-long, the gentler sun-facing southern slope consisted of jagged rock outcroppings interspersed with patches of old-growth forest. The trees were mostly pine and fir, but the Tribe over thousands of years had ensured that a few patches of Redwood trees also thrived. In the coldest winters Ice Giants historically devastated the forests surrounding Giants' Rest Mountain, and the Tribe replanted those forests using seeds and saplings from Green Mountain. If the ice sheets spared the trees of Green Mountain over the next few hundred years, the Tribe planned to move back from the south to the Reservation and replenish Giants' Rest forests using surviving Green Mountain trees.

Such concerns were far from the mind of Mark Dawn Owl when he and his Stone-Coat companion reached the forests of Green Mountain. Mark was exceedingly weary from his journey but ravenously hungry. It had been almost a full day since his last meal. The teen planned to catch a batch of trout and cook them over a warming fire, stuff himself silly with the yummy fish, and then sleep for however long he felt like sleeping. In fact, eating and sleeping was his over-all plan for his entire quest on Green Mountain. It should be a wonderfully boring time, thought Mark, particularly for Walking Stone.

First things first, however. They had entered the hunting grounds of the Green Mountain wolf pack, and needed to contact them, particularly the alpha pair, Gray Shadow and Long Fang. In fact, Mark was surprised not to have been greeted by the wolves before this, both physically and psychically.

Mark sat down on a nice sunny rock outcropping, while nearby Walking Stone wallowed in a patch of slowly melting snow. Recalling the arduous training sessions that Grandmother Talking Owl had put him through, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the life around him. Immediately he felt the presence of small animals nearby: moles, voles and others digging below the surface; birds, squirrels, and chipmunks in the trees. Oddly, he sensed no white-tail deer or wolves nearby, and rabbits, raccoons, and other mid-sized animals seemed to be staying in their dens; as if they were spooked by something.

"SHE:KON OKWAHO," he projected many times as a Mohawk greeting to the wolves, but received no answer. "HELLO WOLVES;" he repeated his message in English, but still sensed no reply. Could they all be too far away, or could they be staying mentally silent to aid their hunting? Or to keep from being hunted themselves?

Dressed in his sun-reflecting parka, Walking Stone soon joined his human companion and pointed out to him the possible reason why the forest was so quiet. "On that next higher rock outcropping I see flies," he stated quietly.

"Flint!" swore Mark quietly in return. Indeed through an opening in the tree cover on a particularly prominent rock formation fifty yards away he could see numerous motionless dark shapes. "How many?"

"Dozens, perhaps hundreds," replied the Stone-Coat. "They appear to be sunning themselves. Can you sense them psychically?"

Mark closed his eyes and cleared his mind of thoughts and physical sense-perceptions again. His ability to sense animal thoughts was at the gifted level even by Tribe standards, but his ability to isolate what he sensed to specific species and individuals was not yet fully developed. He couldn't isolate fly thoughts, but he did immediately sense something unexpected.

"There is another human nearby," he told Walking Stone. "Towards my favorite camping site." Mark led the way and his two-ton companion followed as quietly as he could, which was very noisy. Twigs and other objects were crushed and broken by his heavy foot-falls. The Stone-Coat was almost as annoyingly noisy and destructive as one of those 'all terrain vehicles' that the whites used. They had to pause twice to allow Walking Stone to wallow in snow patches. The campsite wasn't far but it was uphill and not an easy climb for the Stone-Coat.

As they got closer the campsite the human thoughts became stronger, but detecting human thought here should have been impossible. The Tribe warriors should have made sure that nobody else was on Green Mountain. But someone was here nevertheless. Mark could sense their pain, fear, and anger, but not cogent thoughts. It was a human female he sensed, a human in serious distress, but she was not a telepath.

In a clearing near the trout stream lay a small tent, almost exactly where Mark had planned to place his own sleeping pad and bag. The camouflage-patterned tent was not set up, but lay on the ground with a person-sized lump in it. Mark motioned Walking Stone to stay back while cautiously he approached closer. The tent was pegged down around its edge, but was mostly collapsed, as though no tent poles were being used. But it looked like someone was lying in the collapsed tent.

"Tanon'onhkani:se?" asked a woman's voice in very poorly pronounced Mohawk.

"Mark Dawn Owl," Mark answered her question. "Tiohrhen:sa sata:ti," he added, requesting that English be used.

"I'm afraid that was my only Mohawk," the woman replied. "I come in peace, by the way, and I'm unarmed."

"Me too, except for my knife and hatchet camping equipment. Who are you?"

"Ann. Ann Richards."

"The news lady from Channel Four Ann Richards?"

"You've heard of me?" she asked, clearly as astonished as Mark. The sound of a zipper could be heard, and the blonde haired and beautiful head of a woman wearing a baseball cap poked out of the tent. Attractive and in her mid-twenties, Mark indeed recognized her to be the popular Albany TV news reporter Ann Richards, despite seriously messed up hair poking out from under the baseball cap and total lack of makeup.

"Sure I've heard of you. Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Right now I'm hiding from giant flies and from your noisy bear friend."

"Bear friend?"

"Didn't I see a bear with you a minute ago? Wearing a Space Blanket?"

It took a moment for Mark to realize that she must have caught a glimpse of Walking Stone in his parka.

"Just a friend of mine, Miss Richards. Nothing for you to worry about."

"I hope you have other friends nearby? Adult humans I hope?" When she first saw Mark she thought he was an adult; he was as tall as she was, at least. Now she realized he was a teenager no older than fifteen, at most.

"Nope. You and I are the only humans on Green Mountain, and you aren't supposed to be here. What are you doing here Miss Richards?"

"Call me Ann, Mark. I was collecting video footage for an important news story, until the damn flies came. They almost got me yesterday evening; I even broke a leg getting away from them. Nightfall and this tent saved me, I think. Then I heard you and your absurdly noisy bear coming and figured that I was done for. Thought if I played dead I'd stand a chance. I heard that bears are supposed to maybe leave you alone if you play dead. With my broken leg I can do a bang-up job of playing dead."

"This is Reservation land, Ann. You don't belong here."

"OK, young man, you win. You've captured me fair and square. I'm not normally a quitter, but between the flies and this leg, I know when I'm beat. Tell your Reservation cops to come and cart me away. To the nearest hospital, preferably, which happens to be in Albany, I believe."

"Impossible. Reservation Security obviously doesn't know you are here or you wouldn't be here, and since they know that I'm here they won't come here for a couple of weeks."

"But don't you have a radio or something, Mark? Mine is smashed and nobody knows I'm here."

"Sorry Ann. No radio or phone. No Indian smoke signals either. Nothing is available or permitted. I can't get in touch with the Tribe; this is my spirit quest."

"What's a spirit quest?"

"It's where a Tribe guy camps alone in the woods for a couple of weeks and gets all wise and mature. Beautiful blonde reporters with broken legs aren't supposed to figure into it, except maybe in our dreams."

"Really?" She couldn't imagine a society that placed a child into the wilderness alone on purpose. Where was the child welfare agency? There was a news story here! "But you aren't alone; you have a bear."

"We're spirit brothers; that's allowed. News reporters from off-Reservation? Not so much."

"Say, that could make an interesting little boy-meets-world side-story to my big blockbuster main story! A human interest thing!"

"No thanks. I haven't even figured out what to do about you, aside from the moral imperative of somehow saving your life I mean. What's your big blockbuster story, anyway?"

"Sorry, that's a secret. What makes you think that I need my life saved?"

"Let me see: woman with busted leg alone in a forest surrounded by frozen wasteland beset by giant flies. Sounds like a rescue sort of story to me. Maybe even a newsworthy one."

Mark heard the sound of breaking twigs behind him and turned to see Walking Stone moving towards them quickly.

"Holly crap, it's a baby Ice Giant!" Ann said, as she whipped a small camera out from somewhere and started taking photos. "Wearing a parka!"

"The flies come!" Walking Stone voiced, just as Mark began to hear their buzzing.

"And it talks too!" Ann exclaimed, as the Stone-Coat crunched to a halt before them.

"No time for long introductions, but this is Walking Stone," said Mark. "They'll rip that tent to shreds before long but we both might also fit under Walking Stone's fly-proof parka. Help me get it off of him and into the tent."

"What?" Ann asked, as she still tried to come to grips with the fact that a live and deadly looking Ice Giant was standing within arm's reach of her. She of course noted right away that it had huge claws on its oversized fingers and toes, and it probably had big teeth as well. All to tear flesh of course, she incorrectly assumed. The claws were actually for traction on ice and to grasp trees being harvested, and the big beaver-like teeth were to chew through tree trunks.

"Good plan, Mark," said the Stone-Coat, again without moving its mouth, as the boy began to pull apart the Velcro-fastened parka edges. "I will attempt to slow them down." A fly flew straight for Mark but was speared by a steam- powered ice projectile that shot out from Walking Stone's mouth with an audible popping sound. The fly dropped dead a dozen feet from the tent.

The good news was that one fly was dead but the bad news was that it drew the attention of dozens of others that had been swarming above, looking for anything that lived and could die to become fly food. The dead fly was immediately set upon and cannibalized by several other flies.

"With my broken leg I can't stand up to help you," Ann admitted, as she watched Mark help the small Ice Giant remove what looked like a Mylar parka. Plus she wasn't anxious to get within claw-reach of the Ice Giant. Dozens of questions gathered in her reporter-trained mind. What the hell was an Ice Giant doing in company with a human and wearing a parka?

"Pop!" again came a loud sound from the Ice Giant. Did it just spit something at a fly, Ann wondered? Another fly was suddenly lying dead near the first one. What was happening? "Whack!" Using a hatchet the boy skillfully knocked down a third fly that dove for her face. In his other hand he held the parka. "Open the tent further," he told her in a commanding tone of voice.

She was laying with her head out the tent opening. She reluctantly unzipped the tent doorway open further and the boy scrambled in next to her carrying the parka and hatchet, followed by a fat backpack that was pushed in by an enormous clawed Ice Giant hand.

"Close the tent," Mark ordered, though she was already doing that. The sound of flies was getting louder.

"What about your Ice Giant friend?" she asked.

"The flies can't hurt him," Mark explained. "Hopefully your tent will hold back the flies long enough for us to get situated under the parka. I'll spread it above us; maybe it will help obscure their senses if they're looking for food animals using infrared. Then we'll hold still and maybe they won't attack again right away. Wow! This is a really small tent!"

"I wasn't expecting company," Ann replied. "Try not to trample my broken leg, please!" She lay propped up on her left elbow, and held up the tent in the middle using her right hand as she eyed the teen interloper warily. Up close his youthfulness was even more apparent. She revised her estimate of his age down from fifteen to fourteen or even a mature thirteen. The kid didn't seem like an ax-murderer but she felt a bit relieved when she saw him attach his wicked looking hatchet to a loop on his backpack.

Mark's head and shoulders held up the tent near its entrance. He looked down at Ann and saw in the faint light that filtered through the tent fabric a shapely woman's body obscured by loose baggy sweatshirt and shorts, and shapely bare legs. But there were fly jaw sized gashes in the sweatshirt that might have reached through to skin, and several shallow but painful hooking fly leg bites. She lay atop a blood-spattered sleeping bag. Worse of all, her left leg was swollen, discolored, and slightly bent at mid-thigh where it should have been straight. Aluminum tent poles lay next to it, along with several long boot laces and shirts that had been torn into strips. "Your femur is broken," he noted, as he used one of the tent pole to help spread out the parka above them like a second internal tent.

"I noticed that. And it hurts like hell!"

"A broken femur is a very serious injury for humans," stated Walking Stone from outside the tent.

"You were going to set and splint it yourself?" Mark asked.

"No choice," said Ann. "I was going to try, once I gathered enough courage. I should have brought bourbon with me instead of water. It hurts like crazy even when I don't move it. When I do move it I damn near pass-out from the pain. I broke it not far from the tent or I wouldn't have made it here last night. When I did make it here I did pass out until a short time ago. What about the flies?"

"The flies don't seem to sense us here in the tent," Mark noted. "The sound of their buzzing isn't as loud."

"Your lack of movement and use of the tent as a visual cover and the parka as an additional infrared shield is a good strategy," interjected Walking Stone from outside the tent. "I suggest you continue it. Most of the flies have already withdrawn to hunt elsewhere."

"They must mostly use sight into the infrared range to hunt," Mark said.

"Agreed," replied Walking Stone.

"Your Ice Giant friend is your spirit brother?" Ann asked.

"That's a long story that I don't think I'm free to tell, but I suppose that you should at least be properly introduced to him. His human given name is Walking Stone."

"So you said," noted Ann.

"And yours is Ann Richards," said Walking Stone. "I also recognized you from your newscasts."

"Ice Giants watch newscasts?" she asked.

"They've been doing that sort of thing since radio was invented," said Mark. "That's how they learned English."

"That's crazy!" Ann exclaimed. But was it?

"We are not supposed to speak of Stone-Coats with outsiders," said Mark. "That's a sort of the Prime Directive of the Tribe. But you have to be protected and cared for, so I don't know what else to do."

They waited silent and unmoving for several more minutes until there were no more buzzing sounds outside.

"The flies are all out of my sensing range for now," noted Walking Stone. "And we are in turn hopefully outside of their sensing range."

"Good. We'll have to set the leg then," said Mark.

"We?" Ann exclaimed. "You two? What do you know about setting broken legs?

"We received first aid training," said Mark. "We seem to be the closest things to medics available to you."

"Affirmative," added Walking Stone.

"What's a Stone-Coat?" Ann asked.

"We Mohawk use the name Stone-Coat for Walking Stone and his kin. That's the English translation, anyway. The Mohawk term is Atenenyarhu."

"I'll stick to English, I suspect that my tongue is too lazy to handle Mohawk," she said. "So you and Walking Stone want to set my broken leg? That's your plan?"

"Yes. I also have a medical tick in my pack," said Mark, "though I haven't yet been in contact with the local jants. Together they can reduce pain and greatly accelerate healing."

"OK, I know that the jants claim to be somehow associated with medical ticks," Ann said. "I'm not sure I want a tick attached to me anyway, but if I did would it be required that big ants get involved too? That would at least double the yuck factor! The very thought of intelligent ants creeps me out big-time."

"Certainly they are required. You don't even have to see them but jants need to be within a half-mile. A med-tick without jants is just a big blood-sucking bug."

That made sense with news stories she had heard. She had never personally seen real jants or ticks herself though; it was too cold around Albany nowadays for them to thrive. Sick people left Albany for points south where med-ticks were available. Finding med-ticks and jants here in the frozen wastelands of the Adirondacks was pretty astonishing. "So did you bring some jants with you on your quest too?"

"I can't carry a whole jant colony around, especially in places where they might get frozen! Besides, there's already a modest colony here on Green Mountain. Not as many as at Giants' Rest but enough for sentience and medical aid. I've contacted them and they are already gearing up to help."

"A colony? You need a whole colony?"

"Of course. You don't know a lot about some very basic practical things, do you?"

"I thought that I did," Ann countered. "Apparently I don't. Say, how did you contact them for their help?"

"Telepathically, of course," Mark replied.

"Telepathically?" Ann asked. Was the kid loony?

"Certainly," said Mark. "Walking Stone: do you have medical information about fixing human broken legs?"

"Yes," the Stone-Coat replied. "I can act as a consultant on leg setting and splinting, but I recommend that you perform the physical acts required yourself, Mark. I could too easily break additional human bones accidently."

"Agreed," said Mark. It will also have to be done outside the tent; or half-way out at least. It's too dark inside."

"But the flies!" said Ann.

"We'll just have to watch out for flies," said Mark, as he zipped open the tent.

"I will watch for them," reassured Walking Stone.

Through the open tent doorway Ann stared open-mouthed up at Walking Stone. Standing in the tree-filtered partial sun without his parka, his gem-constructed body was for the first time fully displayed to her. "He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life! He seems to be made of diamonds!"

"He is largely made of diamonds. His thinking parts are mostly silicone-based, but his scales and claws are diamond; that's why the Tribe calls them Stone-Coats. Nowadays we also apply the European term Ice Giants to the big ones. But just as at least three dozen types of chemical elements are essential for humans, Stone Coats needs are similarly complex."

"Yes, like warm life forms such as yourselves we internally make use of dozens of substances," added Walking Stone. "We use carbon readily in all of its basic forms, including diamond. We use water, but it is not as essential for us as it is for you."

"My Dad is a scientist. He says we are essentially water balloons," said Mark. "Sea water, of course."

"And how does an Ice Giant talk with a closed mouth," Ann asked.

"He talks using his ears," explained Mark, as though that made all the sense in the world. "My Dad suggested that basic design to them decades ago. It isn't as efficient for them as digital communications but we humans don't have digital systems within ourselves. I think that together we can lift you out on your sleeping bag. I'll get the leg end and Walking Stone can lift each corner of the end near your head."

Ann held her breath as the Stone-Coat reached down and with huge claw-tipped fingers grasped two corners of her sleeping bag and gently lifted in concert with Mark.

"Ahhh," she moaned in pain as towards Mark's end of the sleeping bag her broken leg shifted slightly.

"Sorry about that," Mark apologized. "I'm not as strong as a Stone-Coat."

"APPLY THE TICK AND WE CAN ESSENTIALLY SEDATE HER," said a voice in Mark's head. It was the local jant colony fully coming 'on line' at last, just in time. Fortunately their colony was only a hundred yards away and was fully active. "WE ARE AUTHORIZED TO HELP THE HUMAN FEMALE INCLUDING COMMUNICATIONS WITH YOU TO DO SO," the jants further explained. "NOTE HOWEVER THAT IN KEEPING WITH QUEST RULES DISCUSSED WITH YOUR TRIBE WE WILL REFRAIN FROM RELAYING SPECIFIC INFORMATION ABOUT YOU TO GIANTS' REST."

"UNDERSTOOD," Mark replied to them. He reached into his backpack and retrieved a small wooden box. After opening it, he gently retrieved a three-inch long tick, easily the most horrible thing Ann had ever seen, except maybe for giant flies. "Turn over a bit and I'll put it on your back," he said.

"No damn way," she said. "I don't trust those things!"

"Trust that we of the Tribe know more about ticks and jants than outsiders do," Mark reassured her. "The jants will monitor the tick and I will monitor the jants. I'll let you know what's happening and what they are doing every step of the way. You don't have to trust the bugs; just trust me."

"But it's a damn yucky bug!" A couple of years she had done a story on parasites that were being spread throughout the world due to climate change and other interrelated factors. There were dozens of species of worms, fly larva, flies, mites, micro-organisms, and other nasty critters that infected many millions of people: still mostly in third-world countries but increasingly in even the United States. Critters that lived in the gut or under skin or in the brain. Critters that gave Ann nightmares.

"Scientists around the world have studied med-ticks for decades now and have always found them to be free of parasites, pathogens, and so forth. Besides, after you're healed we will remove it, I promise. Come on; we don't have time for this! The flies could return at any time, and Walking Stone will be reduced to steam power in twenty or thirty minutes, tops. We have to set that leg and heal it as soon as possible. No other choice is available."

"How could you possibly monitor what's going on?"

"I'll listen to their thoughts," Mark explained.

"Listen to the thoughts of the tick and the jants that control it?" Ann asked.

"Sure. I've been able to do that for years. My Grandma can communicate with practically anything through their thoughts and she taught me. Here look! I'll put the tick down here on the tent flap and have the jants instruct it to do something unusual." He sat the tick down on the tent flap facing Ann.

Ann had seen videos of medical ticks, but she had never seen one up-close and personal. Sure, really sick people used them; and they had cured many millions of people of many ailments including even cancer, but nobody seemed to know how they did it, and fortunately she had never needed one. This one was dark brown and spotted and looked deceptively like a big brown beetle, but it had eight legs like its cousins the spiders, instead of six: eight insect-like legs that she would soon feel walking down her back. Worst of all it had a hideous buggy head with bug-eyes and some kind of long pointy mouth thing that it would stick into her spine. "Is it alive?" she asked. It's not even moving."

"It's fine. I'll have it wave its right foreleg at you."

Moments later the tick raised its right front leg and waved it.

"How did that happen? Did it hear us talking?"

"No, jants and ticks don't have ears or voices; they're telepathic. I projected my thoughts to the jants and they commanded the tick. The tick is a medical probe and miniature biological laboratory while the jants act as the medical doctors that control it.

Creepy! Using telepathy? She still didn't know if she could believe that! If she saw the tick dance a jig maybe she still wouldn't believe it. But though Ann had just met this kid, she already liked him and had growing confidence and trust in him. He was very mature for his age and obviously very intelligent. Plus she was already learning so much about Ice Giants and jants and the mysterious Giants' Rest Mohawk Tribe that her head was spinning. There was a huge story here, there had to be.

Plus the kid was right, she had no choice. There was no way she would be able to fix herself up well enough to get out of this jam herself. Plus she was so dizzy from pain she could hardly think straight. She had to surrender her care to the kid and his talking diamond studded friend, she had no choice. "OK, Mark, deal; and thanks in advance. What do I need to do?"

"Not much at all, we're going to do most of the work while you relax. Your body will do most of the heavy lifting for your healing but at a subconscious level that you don't need to worry about. Hold yourself up on your elbow like you were doing before and let's talk together about other things while the tick crawls down your back."

"Sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed, when Mark placed the enormous tick on the shoulder of her sweatshirt and she could feel it crawl slowly towards her neck.

"It won't hurt you," Mark reassured her; "just think of other things. Like why are you here now and not doing newscasts in Albany?"

Albany. Her safe, snug, cluttered little office in Albany seemed like a million miles away. "I've taken an extended break from the studio to work a big story. How long has your Tribe known about Stone-Coats?"

"A very, very long time." Since the last ice age over ten thousand years ago he didn't tell her, as had been confirmed by well calibrated radiocarbon-dating of Tribe artifacts. "Many years."

"And they are friendly?" Ann asked.

"Lately, yes; we are at peace and do very important things for each other."

"We have a treaty between us by which we mutually benefit," added Walking Stone, as he stood watching.

"Why do their trails across the ice lead to Giants' Rest Mountain?" Ann asked.

"That's where they have lived and thrived for a very long time," explained Mark. "Look, let's talk about something else, OK? How did you get here?"

"I paraglided from a low-flying drone airplane yesterday morning at first light."

"So that means you can't get back the way you came. How were you going to get off this Reservation?"

"I was going to radio a buddy for a helicopter pick-up in about a week, assuming I had my story all wrapped up."

"This close to the Reservation a helicopter intrusion would be easily detected. The Reservation is a state and federally recognized no-fly zone. The Tribe could even shoot it down."

"Not if I the pick-up point is beyond the next mountain and they fly in super low. But now it's not happening anyway; my radio is busted and nobody even knows that I'm here."

"Except for me and Walking Stone, and I'm duty bound to turn you in to Tribal Security. For the record I am placing you under citizen's arrest right now."

"What? You can't do that!"

"By federal law I can and have."

"You're pretty pushy for a kid."

"And you're pretty pushy for a trespassing lawbreaker with a broken leg stranded in a frozen wilderness infested with giant flies."

Ann grinned. "I suppose that I am, Mark. OK then, for the record I'm your prisoner, which makes you legally responsible for my welfare, by the way. I demand medical care! When is your tick going to get to work?"

"It already has. Your leg should be starting to feel numb."

"What? Already?" She had been so deeply engaged in talking with Mark that she didn't even notice her pain disappear, but he was right! The pain was gone!

"Already. Other than the broken leg you are in excellent condition, the jants report."

"Good. Will they heal my leg now?"

"After I set the bone they will have the tick get your body to focus on healing itself. Mostly they control your neural and other body networks to get your own body to do things that your body already sort of knows how to do. But Walking Stone and I will do some things that they can't do, just like would be done in a real hospital. For instance Waking Stone will now x-ray your leg as I set it."

"How?"

"Very carefully," Mark replied.

Walking Stone stood next to the broken leg and worked one of his huge feet into the forest moss-covered soil until it was nearly flush with ground level, than Mark gently shifted Ann's broken leg to lie atop it.

"Hey! That didn't hurt at all!" Ann marveled.

"So far so good," noted Mark. "That's the med-tick doing its job."

Walking Stone held the palm of one of his huge hands over the leg to commence x-ray emissions that were received by the foot. A crude image of the bone beak appeared in one of the Stone-Coat's eyes for viewing by Mark. Walking stone moved his hand slightly, changing the angle of incidence and resulting in a sharp 3-D image. The break was clearly shown.

"Luckily it looks close to being set already," Mark announced.

"Yes," agreed Walking Stone; "a seven degree twist and closing of a three millimeter gap will set it. Follow the arrows on my diagram."

Mark followed directions as Walking Stone talked him through the procedure. In only a few minutes they were done. "Continue to hold absolutely still and the cast will be made, he said. Sticks and leaves?" He asked the Stone-Coat.

"Affirmative," said Walking Stone.

"What the hell is going on now?" Ann asked, as Mark gently began to pile leaves and small sticks all over the leg. Sticks and leaves? Was this some sort of ancient Indian treatment? Next would he dump mud on her or something?

"You're doing great," said Mark. "The leg is in place and Walking Stone will fabricate a cast for it using organic carbon rich sticks and leaves. This will take only a few minutes."

"Graphene reinforced diamond pins are recommended at the break by the jants," Mark announced. Five of them with specification 3j. Can you make them, Walking Stone?"

"Yes, in approximately one minute. I have the necessary elements held in reserve. I suggest you lay the pins on the patient's skin before I begin the cast, as that will speed their absorption and application."

"Roger that," said Mark, as he gently cleared the leaves and sticks from a small area of Ann's leg directly over the break.

"What's happing now?" Ann asked.

"They're going to insert pins into the bone to strengthen the mend," explained Mark.

"Have they done that before?"

"Yes they tell me that they have done this exact thing successfully several times in Florida and Mississippi," said Mark.

"But these local bugs never did it?"

"Jants accurately share thoughts and memories. It's almost the same thing as doing it themselves. Individual Jants are short-lived insects. They have to use their long term hive level memories to do practically everything."

"Get the pins from my mouth now and place them at the fracture," instructed Walking Stone.

Mark retrieved the pins from the lips of the Stone Coat. They weren't as long as toothpicks but they were thicker, and had an irregular shape and surface. He lay them down gently on Ann's swollen leg, where they seemed to immediately melt into the numb swollen skin of the leg. "The rest is up to the jants and the tick," he noted. "Amazingly enough they can have your body move small objects through it. The pins will soon be permanent parts of your leg. Meanwhile Walking Stone will form the cast. It will need to extend for the entire length of the leg including your foot."

"That's going to itch like crazy I bet!" she exclaimed.

"Not with the tick it won't," Mark vowed.

From the palm of the hand that Walking Stone held above her leg Ann saw a wispy cloud of nearly invisible threads descend onto the pile of leaves and sticks that Mark had spread over her leg. The pile of organic materials began to rapidly dissolve and reconsolidate into clear thin shoots and twists of what appeared to be fine fabric.

"That's millions of nanotubes that essentially eat away the organics and convert them into a cast," explained Mark. "The cast will be mostly carbon; a combination of two-dimensional graphene structures and three dimensional diamond fiber that will be much stronger than your original leg."

"I am programming enough sensors and intelligence into it for it to self-adjust to the expected reduction in swelling," said Walking Stone, "as well as short-range communications to allow me to monitor it."

"A smart diamond leg cast!" Ann marveled. Now that the pain was gone she could think clearer.

"While the ticks and jants are masters of healing life, the Stone-Coats are masters of minerals and electronics," said Mark. "They can manipulate crystal structures to make practically anything they want to."

"Maybe that explains persistent rumors of a diamond mine at Giants' Rest Mountain," said Ann.

"Someone thinks that the Tribe actually digs caves to find diamonds?"

"The Mohawk have been selling flawless diamonds all over the East Coast for decades," Ann said. "I helped break that story."

"I remember that silly story," said Mark. "I can't imagine having to dig a mine just to get diamonds, but my dad says that humans off the Reservation don't have Stone-Coats to make things like that for them. I can understand why you came up with the diamond mine idea."

"True enough," said Ann. "Why dig for diamonds if you have Ice Giants to make them for you?" This wasn't just a story, it was a blockbuster series! Diamond making Ice Giants! Telepathy! Tribe secrets! It was overwhelming!

"The cast is complete," announced Walking Stone.

Mark relayed that information to the jants and got status back from them in return. "THE PINS ARE IN PLACE AND ATTACHED BUT THE BROKEN BONE WILL TAKE SEVERAL DAYS TO FULLY STRENGTHEN," said the jants. "LIMITED SELF-MOTION IS POSSIBLE BUT SHOULD BE DONE ONLY IF NECESSARY."

"A potty break is absolutely necessary very soon," Ann informed Mark, after he explained her status. "Then food and sleep, I think, if possible."

"Let Walking Stone cool off for a few minutes and then he can carry you to a nearby potty site," said Mark.

"Cool off?" Ann asked.

"He's damn close to needing to use steam locomotion already. He has to maintain a temperature near freezing for his hydraulic locomotion to function efficiently."

Walking Stone slowly moved to a nearby bank of snow and collapsed into the middle of it, using his arms to mound snow over himself until only part of his head protruded above snow level. It wasn't as cold as the interior of a glacier or a cooling station, but it did the job.

"They have to stay cold to move?" Ann asked.

"Mostly. Not wearing the parka cuts in half how long he can go before needing to cool off that way."

"While he does that, could you get me some food from my tent, Mark?" Ann asked. "I haven't eaten for hours."

"Right," Mark agreed. He fetched a sandwich and canteen from the tent and handed it to her.

"Hey!" Ann said, as she opened the sandwich bag, releasing a smell of fresh bread and mustard that caused Mark's eyes to water and empty stomach to quake. "Are you hungry too? You look hungry! Have half of my sandwich." She held out half of her sandwich to him and was very surprised when he refused and pulled away, shaking his head.

"I don't think that's allowed," he explained. "Quest rules. I have to find my own food. Walking Stone can help, but no other humans or Stone-Coats can."

"Don't be silly!" Ann insisted, as she held the sandwich out to him again. "I have a week's worth of food packed. Can't we do a reciprocity sort of deal? Lunch on me now and dinner on you later? This is damn good chicken, and the last I have. It's all freeze dried meals-ready-to-eat after this sandwich."

"I don't think so," Mark again refused. "But thanks anyway. Besides, you'll need the nourishment to heal."

"When was your last meal?" she asked, as she ate.

"Only a day or so ago. Flies ate my one day supply of food. Right now I have only my vitamin tablets and water."

"How did you plan to find food?"

"Besides taking multiple vitamins I planned on fishing for trout and on having an owl friend and wolf friends to help me hunt, but none of that seems very likely right now." He told her about not being able to contact the wolves and about the tragic loss of Red Claw.

"I'm sorry, Mark," Ann responded. "But you can still fish, can't you?"

"I don't see how. The stream is too far. We would all be too exposed to fly attack."

"But you need to eat so you need to fish," insisted Ann. "We'll move the tent closer to the stream so you can get to it quicker in event of attack. I'll rest in the tent and heal while you fish and Walking Stone stands guard."

"I think that Walking Stone and I are supposed to plan our quest," Mark objected.

"So what's YOUR plan young Chief?"

"What you said," he admitted, as he started to pull-up tent stakes.

****

### Chapter 9: Fly Fishing

Walking Stone returned from snow wallowing and the plan was put into motion. Within fifteen minutes Mark was fishing while Ann dozed in the newly located tent. He had brought a spool of fishing line and a few spoon and feather lures that he had used in the past to catch fish and was confident that he would soon have lunch, flies permitting. He wore a light-weight plastic parka that he hoped would at least slightly befuddle fly senses. The loose extra layer of clothing made handling the fishing line by hand almost impossible but the strategy seemed to work with the flies: twice solitary scouting flies buzzed through the area and ignored him as he held perfectly still until Walking Stone told him that the fly was gone.

Their luck with the flies continued. Most of the flies were perhaps occupied elsewhere, Walking Stone conjectured. But Mark was having no luck with fish. He decided to employ a trick his Grandmother had taught him. With proper telepathic focus the Tribe had long ago found that they could influence the mood of fish towards increased hunger. In fact, according to Tribal legend, this is how and why the Tribe first discovered and developed their telepathic skills. From there the Tribe learned to communicate with other animals and to even detect the quiet thoughts of Stone-Coats when they became active.

Though in recent hours his head spun with thoughts about how he might best manage the quest given the added responsibilities and complications presented by Ann, Mark now closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and focused totally on his surroundings. There was an inherent activity to all life that could be sensed by a few talented humans. Mark's calm mind was a sensing device that could be tuned to detect such activity, including the primitive thoughts and emotions of others.

The forest around him was full of life hidden to the eyes; a legion of small creatures that dug deep through the darkness of forest soil, or climbed high through the forest canopy, or flew from tree to tree in an endless ocean of air, all seeking other life on which to feed. Though battered severely by climate change, Green Mountain was still brimming with life.

Mark identified dozens of rodents and birds and eliminated them from his focus. He sought out still simpler minds that lived in yet another world, a cold world of endless motion and gurgling sound: the world of constantly rushing water. Resting in quiet eddies Mark found the creatures that he sought, trout that had thus far miraculously survived climate change and swam through ice-clogged rivers and streams to summer here in this mountain refuge, following ancient instincts that drove them to swim and eat and spawn despite whatever happened in the world around them.

Their numbers nearby were fewer than Mark remembered; climate change was steadily taking its toll on everything. He had envisioned stuffing himself silly with delicious trout but now decided to eat as few as possible to get himself through this day. Then perhaps he would eat no more of them. If necessary he and Ann would resort to eating grubs and roots to avoid devastating the small remaining stock of trout here on Green Mountain.

Tuning his thoughts to those of the fish, he found what he sought: a feeling of hunger that he amplified by using his own hunger. Several fish stirred and more attentively patrolled for tasty aquatic insects and their larvae. They must have been hungrier than he thought, for the feeling of hunger suddenly amplified much further than Mark expected. "HUNGER! HUNGER! HUNGER! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! HUNGER! HUNGER! HUNGER!" Mark repeated, as he tossed his lure towards a quiet pool in the stream, a favorite fishing hole of his since he was too young to talk.

Before he saw the lure even reach the water there was a sudden warning shout from Walking Stone and a buzzing noise, followed by an insistent pulling on his fishing line. He had a strike and it felt like a big one! But he was using twenty-pound line that was tied to a sturdy stick that he firmly held in one hand, so unless the hook tore free at the fish end he for sure had lunch! The pull was towards the water but then unexpectedly the pull came from above and then behind him. Where the hell was the fish? And the buzzing sound was louder than ever; where was the fly he was hearing?

It took a few more moments for it to register in Mark's confused mind that a giant fly and not a fish had taken his lure and was struggling to free itself twenty feet above his head!

"Kill it quickly and hide it or it will bring others!" warned Ann from the tent opening where she watched.

Walking Stone shot off a fly wing with a well-placed ice projectile and Mark cut off the creature's head with his hatchet after it hit the ground. After prying the fishing lure from its mouth he tossed all the oozing remains into a plastic garbage bag and climbed into the tent with it to hide it from detection by other hungry flies.

"I didn't realize that you were fly-fishing," Ann said. "Congratulations."

"My fishing didn't go quite as planned," Mark noted, as Ann laughed. "I have a sack of fly instead of a sack of fish."

"Well I got some great video out of it. The look of shock and befuddlement on your face was priceless when you snagged that ugly thing!"

"You videoed me fishing?"

"Sure, I video record almost everything. You never know when you'll capture something that you can use."

"I don't remember signing up to be in a news story," said Mark.

"You aren't in one yet; don't worry. But would that really be a problem? Most people like being in news stories."

"I don't know why," said Mark.

"Maybe they just want to be famous."

"Why would anyone want that?"

"So that they feel good about themselves. So they feel that their life makes a difference."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with being famous."

Ann had to think about that for a minute before replying. "Maybe for some people it does; I guess for you it doesn't. I hope you weren't figuring on cleaning and cooking that thing here in my tent."

"The fly? I hadn't figured what to do with it. Maybe it would make good fish bait."

"No, you're going to eat it, right?" asked Ann. "I've heard of people eating them before. Waste-not, want-not, as the saying goes."

"They also say you are what you eat, but you're right; I'll have to give it a try I suppose. For the Tribe killing anything is serious and should have meaning."

"Cook it well done," advised Ann. "Those things can carry very nasty pathogens. I did a story on that once."

"Yes, I remember that story," said Mark. "It was a nicely condensed version of a more detailed Scientific American article."

After an 'all clear' indication from Walking Stone Mark moved the fly out of the tent and butchered it. He had butchered game animals before, but what fly parts were suitable as people food Mark could only guess at. The dead fly stank and butchering it was a disgusting experience but he was very, very hungry. He focused on the thorax: the middle section of the fly that contained leg and wing muscle. The thicker leg sections also looked promising. There was a tough outside carapace and hair to deal with, but that was no match for his hunting knife and hunger-driven determination. He soon carved away two pounds of what vaguely looked like meat plus several leg sections. The remaining fly parts he tossed into the stream, where he wasn't surprised to see trout eat them. He was surprised to see that there were hundreds of trout, more than he had ever seen before. What had drawn them? "Well that figures," he muttered. "Always happens once you've stopped fishing."

"That fly exhibited unusual behavior," noted Walking Stone. "It dove straight towards you when it appeared, instead of buzzing around and cautiously spiraling towards the camp as if it saw or otherwise sensed something interesting. There was little time for a warning."

"The lure must have really attracted it strongly," reasoned Mark. He retrieved his pan from his backpack and fried a thick fillet of fly, along with some leg segments, with Walking Stone supplying the heat. The Stone-Coat held the sizzling pan in one of his huge hands and stirred the sizzling fly pieces with a diamond claw of his other hand. Ann moved to sit just outside the tent in order to better observe and record events.

"Perhaps," said Walking Stone. "The issue requires further data for resolution."

"It smells pretty good," Mark noted. "Maybe I won't starve after all."

"How is that pan being heated?" Ann asked.

"By Stone-Coat. A campfire would have been more readily detected by the flies," Mark noted.

"Electrical resistance is experienced in selected circuits of my hand," explained Walking Stone. "It's actually a very simple phenomenon. Mark prefers this to microwave cooking, though I could also provide that, and with greater speed and efficiency."

"You Stone-Coats are certainly amazing!" Ann noted. "Are you going to eat some of the fly also, Walking Stone?"

"I will consume what Mark leaves as waste but not segments that would provide food for him," replied the Stone-Coat. "I will absorb waste to help avoid detection by other flies. Currently I am not in need of any substances."

"I hadn't noticed you eat anything at all," Ann noted. "That seems strange for such a big creature."

"I take on ice periodically; nothing else is needed," explained Walking Stone.

"Stone-Coats are mostly powered by nuclear decay, if that's what you wanted to know, though they also absorb solar energy," said Mark. "They can and do consume almost anything to get the substances they need, especially trees for their carbon, but they don't really consume food for energy like we warm living things do. They can actually go for millions of years without eating, as long as they have a trickle of electricity based on nuclear decay."

"That sounds handy," Ann muttered. She was confused. She had never heard of anything like this!

"The Prime Directive," Walking Stone reminded Mark.

Mark abruptly stopped explaining Stone-Coats to the outsider. "This meat is very well cooked," he noted. He speared a small bit of it on the tip of his knife and after blowing on it to cool it he bit into it. "Oh wow!" he muttered with his mouth full, "it's fantastic, once you get past the 'yuck' factor!"

"Let me try a bite!" Ann requested. "Why it tastes like chicken!" she soon exclaimed. "Like dark meat; and that's my favorite! It's very good! Please pass me a leg."

The rest of the fly meat was soon cooked and consumed by the hungry pair. The armor-clad legs reminded Ann of snow crab legs, but the meat was more chicken-like in taste.

While Ann hobbled out of sight for another nature call and Mark cleaned cooking utensils in the stream Walking Stone startled Mark with a question. "Are you going to soon mate with Ann?" he asked point blank.

"What? Of course not! Why would you ask such a question?"

"You are adults of opposite sex and of suitable ages to reproduce," noted the Stone-Coat.

"I suppose that's true, but we've just met today and she's about twice my age."

"Is age parity a priority?"

"I don't know," Mark admitted.

"Your father is many years older than your mother."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Mark asked.

"Human reproduction is a topic of our research," Walking Stone noted, "and it has also been noted in the Tribe caves that humans often engage in sex even when reproduction is not sought. The entire sex issue appears to radically motivate and distort human behavior and culture."

"I guess, but I think we'll both get sex education this year in school," Mark noted. "That should provide an optimal opportunity for your research on this topic. I suggest that you save such questions until then." He had never thought of it before, but when he eventually did have sex, did Walking Stone intend to observe? No way!

"Affirmative," agreed Walking Stone, just as Ann lurched into view on her crutches and returned to hide in the tent.

"These wooden crutches that you guys made for me are perfect," she noted. "Did you carve them with your hunting knife while I napped, Mark?"

"No, Walking Stone carved them using his teeth while he wallowed in snow. He is very talented."

"I used designs obtained from the human internet," Walking Stone added.

"You have internet access?"

"Usually they do; they plug themselves right into it," said Mark.

"But not while on this quest," added Walking Stone. "I am isolated from the other Stone-Coats and from their internet. I downloaded several gigs of medical related information during the weeks prior to the quest in anticipation of their possible usefulness."

"You certainly know a lot about many human things, Walking Stone," Ann noted. "Are you an adult Stone-Coat? I've seen much bigger Stone-Coats than you."

"This entity is obviously a fully functioning autonomous unit," Walking Stone stated. "The term 'adult' does not meaningfully apply to Stone-Coats."

"They don't have kids or adults or sex or mates like people do," Mark explained. "Most of the Stone-Coats aren't even in the form of mobile units. They only form mobile units when those are needed. This one was designed to be as small as possible to be able to follow me around, but he's mostly the same as any other mobile Stone-Coat. You said that you've seen others? Bigger units?"

"A few." Indeed she had been taking videos of them for weeks all over the northern ice fields of New York. Gradually she figured out where they were coming from: Giants' Rest Mountain, just across the valley from Green Mountain.

"Did somebody build the Stone-Coats?" Ann asked Walking Stone. "A scientist maybe? Mark said something about his Dad designing ears."

"Our basic patterns for life evolved long before soft carbon forms such as humans matured into sentient entities," said Walking Stone, "but the process was conceptually similar and there are many apt analogies between Stone-Coat biology and evolution and human biology and evolution. For example warm life forms have genes; Stone-Coats have digital designs that they exchange."

"Evolution built them many millions of years ago, similar to how evolution built us," said Mark, "only using different materials. My Dad calls them living computers, but that's not quite right either."

"Human computers are computationally fast but very primitive in most respects," said the Stone-Coat.

"And how old are you, Walking Stone?" Ann asked.

"This unit contains basic constructs that are approximately four-hundred million years old, but most of this particular mobile unit was formed from granite less than a million years ago," Walking Stone stated. "We are a relatively young Stone-Coat enclave. Most other enclaves in Europe and elsewhere are far older."

Ann sat quietly for a long time, absolutely dumbstruck, as she tried to digest what she had been told. This wasn't just a story; it was the biggest story imaginable! A sentient life form had evolved on Earth long before humans! This was even crazier than smart ants!

She had done a story once about how some scientists feared a pending moment in history they called the Singularity, when machines would reach a state of self-aware sentience. Ironically, rock based life had apparently reached that point long before humans.

This was an absolutely huge story: a story of a lifetime; just what she needed to catapult her career from this dying frozen region of the country and trivial news stories to national news and big stories. She hated doing little stories in Albany while the world at large was so obviously going to shit.

Somehow she had to get this story off this Mountain and out to the world! But first she had to understand it better, and for the first time in her life she feared that she had encountered a story that was so big that she might be incapable of competently piecing it together. But she had too! She wasn't the sort of reporter that simply drew attention to things that were interesting; she was the sort of reporter that studied and understood what she reported on.

Raw information was not enough, even when it was incredibly sensational. In fact, the more sensational a story was, the more it tended to require research. That's why she had held off for weeks on reporting about sightings of Ice Giants in this area. She had amassed hours of videos and hundreds of photos and eye-witness reports, but what she wanted was the full story. She had to find out what they were and what they were doing and why!

"The jants report that your leg is healing very fast," Mark said, interrupting Ann's thoughts.

"It hardly hurts at all anymore."

"But they also report that you are very troubled by something."

"They do? Are they reading my mind?"

"Yes and no," Mark explained. "Through the tick they focus mostly on the portions of your mind that control pain and healing. They could of course read your conscious thoughts as well, but usually don't bother to."

"And what about you? Can you read my thoughts, Mark?"

"No, for two reasons. First it would be inappropriate and impolite. Second, you are hopelessly inept telepathically."

"I am?"

"Most humans are."

"I suppose that in your Tribe's society that would make me a total loser."

"Not really. My Grandfather is a great Chief and Tribe hero yet his telepathic abilities are even weaker than yours. For him it is a strength. Wise people make the best use of whatever they have or whatever they don't have."

"You seem to be pretty wise for a kid. How old are you anyway?"

"Past thirteen."

"Wow! You're going to be really something when you're fully grown!"

"Maybe, but only if I live that long," said Mark. "The flies seek to prevent that. I, on the other hand, after a nap hope to catch another fly for dinner. Or a fish. Whichever I catch first will be dinner. I need a rest period first, though. I've had a tiring time and all that fly meat I ate is really weighing me down. Also we need to make some plans."

Mark crawled into the tent and under the reflective poncho with Ann. They weren't touching, but Mark was immediately so aware of her that he was very uncomfortable. For one thing it was uncomfortably warm: it was at least eighty degrees in the tent under the poncho. For another thing Ann was a very beautiful woman. He was thankful that she wasn't telepathic, for some embarrassing thoughts had crossed his mind.

"So, quest planner, do we stay here or make a run for it?" Ann asked. "What do you think?"

"I need the stream for yummy fish," said Mark, "but I doubt we'll be able to stay here for the whole two weeks. We've been lucky so far with the flies, but it can't last. So I say the hell with the fish; we need better shelter. Then in two weeks we'll have to haul you to Giant's Rest Mountain. You'll be more mobile by then but probably not mobile enough for a challenging hike across the ice sheet. We'll have to make a sled that Walking Stone can use to pull you over the ice to Giants' Rest in one night."

"Wait a minute! Why will that be necessary? Won't your quest simply end in two weeks? Can't we then simply send up smoke signals in two weeks that will bring your Tribe rescue helicopter to us?"

"No, two weeks is just a minimum time limit," explained Mark. "The quest won't be over until Walking Stone and I both return to Giants' Rest under our own power. Until then any signals from anywhere near here will be ignored."

"Your quest rules seem to be designed to F-us up but good!" Ann remarked.

"Sure seems like it," agreed Mark. "But they are what they are. For now we should get some sleep. I know of some caves nearby that should provide better protection from the flies. We'll move ourselves there tonight. Walking Stone can easily carry you that far."

"What about your yummy fish?" Ann asked.

"Over-rated," Mark declared. "We'll eat flies. They taste like chicken."

"Yummy flies."

"Do you like big dogs?" Mark asked.

"Sure, I guess so. What's not to like?"

"Good," said Ed. "The cave is a wolf den."

"You've been talking about wolves but there haven't been wolves in New York for hundreds of years," Ann insisted. "I did a story on that once."

Mark laughed. "I guess these wolves missed that story."

****

### Chapter 10: Pact

The historic Pact between the Stone-Coats, the United States Government as represented by Jerry, and the jants was quickly completed and agreed to. Jerry had apparently written a draft of it over the last few months in anticipation of reaching the agreement. It was written in plain English as a plain-text electronic format file that the Stone-Coats could access directly.

As Ed was quick to point out it was merely a framework of principles, not a detailed agreement for all specific activities, but everyone agreed that it would provide a sound philosophical-level foundation for a lasting Stone-Coat/human relationship.

Stone-Coats would for example mine minerals for humans, create machines, and repair and build structures for human use. In return humans would facilitate the spread of Stone-Coats to everywhere there was exposed rock and help supply carbon and other substances when requested. Basically the treaty between the Stone-Coats and the Tribe had been extended to the rest of humanity, as the humans were obligated to extend the agreement world-wide, starting with the United States.

The space exploration project was included explicitly in the Pact. Stone-Coats were to help build and use spaceships in cooperation with humans. Together they would colonize other worlds. To Ed it seemed farfetched, but maybe no more farfetched than the rest of the pact.

Jant provisions were hastily added into the agreement, as they were not a part of the original document developed by Jerry.

Jerry was very pleased with the outcome, but Ed and the other Tribe members had many concerns that they openly voiced. "I know that you are a very powerful man in our Federal Government, Jerry, but this Pact reads like it is a world-wide agreement between the entirety of the three species involved," noted Ed. "We don't know if Stone-Coats and jants have the authority to speak for themselves, but we know full well that we don't have the authority to speak for all of humanity. You can't even speak for the United States, Jerry; most Americans don't even know who you are."

"And they won't," said Jerry. "I will continue to control things from behind the scenes, but will see that this Pact holds to the extent of my powers."

"But the Pact defines a very extensive and necessarily public relationship," noted Running Bear. "I can envision hundreds of Stone-Coat Ice Giants in New York City, Chicago, and hundreds of other cities, battling scared pissed-off Americans that have guns and dynamite, and news outlets and politicians ready to sensationalize and twist to their own advantage everything that can go wrong. And make no mistake, things will go wrong. The things outlined by the Pact are huge and will probably take several human generations to implement."

"We have computed all of those difficulties and more," said Rocky. "Yet we also compute that having this Pact is probably significantly better than not having one."

"Stone-Coats will be endangered by unscrupulous humans when their existence becomes known," warned Running Bear. "Human thugs will realize that just a single small Stone-Coat like Rocky is composed of millions of dollars' worth of diamonds and other gems."

"But such gems will become dirt-cheap when the Stone-Coats give us tons of them," Ed noted. "Perhaps we should flood the market with them even before we go public with the Stone-Coats."

"We have computed the dangers that humans pose and concluded that humans do not pose an existential threat to us," said Rocky. "We are located throughout the world and imbedded in hundreds of mountains. Humans could do little to threaten our existence, but a small tribe of humans here at Giants' Rest Mountain annoyingly halted our spread for several thousand years. Now with their cooperation our spread has greatly accelerated. Cooperation with humans is preferred but not necessary. For humans, cooperation can be very valuable. The humans are adapting to jants. We conclude that their adaptation to Stone-Coats is also possible."

Ed wasn't convinced of that. A new type of ants in the backyard somehow seemed like a more natural thing to accept than sixty-foot tall nightmarish giants of rock that could crush a human like a bug.

"In sum our potential to further accelerate your spread is huge," noted Jerry. "And your potential to aid us is similarly huge. Our mutual cooperation can greatly aid our mutual survival. This enormous potential for our mutual benefit is what we should try to exploit."

"Agreed," said Rocky.

"And what about the jants?" asked Running Bear.

Ed relayed the jant thoughts aloud: "We generally have no interest in the affairs of Stone-Coats, but are intrigued by the concept of spreading ourselves to other planets. For now we want humans to acknowledge that they share this world with us and with other creatures. Their population reached nine billion and has now started to decline. We encourage this development. Humans consume too many resources. We will live cooperatively with humans and follow this Pact if humans continue to decline in numbers and further reduce their resource use."

"And if they don't?" asked Running Bear.

"They will," stated the jants through Ed. "We will help them live up to this Pact."

Ed wasn't sure that he liked that response. The jants seemed too sure of themselves and what humans would do. What did they mean when they said that they would help humans live up to the Pact?

"Both Stone-Coats and the Pact with them will need to become known to the human public," said Talking Owl. "That will also expose the Tribe and our role in all of this. We will likely be denounced by many to be traitors to humanity. Expect droves of reporters, diplomats, and other busy-bodies, as well as verbal, legal, and physical attacks from political and religious nut-cases. We could even be attacked by paramilitary or even military forces."

"I can provide Government protection," said Jerry.

"Or perhaps in the view of society and history we'll be immediate heroes," said Mary, "depending on how well this all turns out."

"We will need some damn good publicity, that's for damn sure," said Running Bear. "I think our Chief should work on that problem."

They all turned to stare at Ed. "Swell," he said.

****

### Chapter 11: Okwaho

Walking Stone wearing his parka easily carried Ann in his arms and her camping gear and Mark's on his back. Fortunately the wolf den was less than half a mile away and the Stone-Coat had been there before the previous summer. He had memorized each footstep and now repeated them accurately with little need for correction using his infrared eyesight. It was another dark moonless night, and so that Mark and Ann could dimly see their surroundings his head and feet slightly glowed.

Mark followed closely behind them, focused on his telepathic search for nocturnal animals. He located owls and encouraged their efforts to attack and kill the dormant flies that rested on the rocky outcroppings of the Mountain that still retained heat from the daytime sun.

He remained deeply puzzled and concerned about his inability to contact the wolf-pack. The wolves should have heard the frequent telepathic calls he made to them since his arrival on Green Mountain. Even neglecting telepathy, the arrival of Ann, Mark, and Walking Stone in their hunting territory should have been sensed and acknowledged by them. The jants would only say that for the last few days they detected unusual patterns of distressed thought from most animals of the region, similar to what occurred when a storm or a forest fire threatened the forest. This was due to the fly invasion; it had to be. Had the flies attacked the wolves?

As they made their way towards the den Mark spoke about the wolves to Ann. "They aren't dogs," he noted. "They're smart, fiercely independent and proud, and behave as a coordinated unit. Humans in general are a competitive enemy that they normally avoid. These particular wolves didn't stay on the Reservation when the others moved south because they are fond of the Tribe that still lives here, they did so because they stubbornly refused to be forced away from their territory."

"Hmmm," mused Ann. "A fiercely independent, proud, stubborn coordinated unit that refused to move south. That sounds like your Tribe but in canine form."

"I guess it does!" Mark admitted. Minutes later he was relieved when he finally sensed the distant thoughts of several wolves, but upset when he immediately felt their extreme pain, fear, anger and weariness. Most were in their den and sleeping, or trying to sleep, at a time when they often hunted in the forest.

"OKWAHO, OKWAHO," Mark pathed the Mohawk name for 'wolf' over and over.

"OWL CUB!" he finally sensed as a joyful answering thought, but it was accompanied by a mournful chorus of cave-muted, anguished wolf howls that erupted from somewhere deeper in the rocks not far ahead. With his flashlight in hand, Mark rushed past Walking Stone and Ann just as a big dark shape shot out from the darkness of the rocks and leapt upon him, knocking him down hard onto his back.

It was a huge gray wolf easily as big as Mark, Ann realized, as Walking Stone increased his glow-light. She would have been scared to death if it wasn't for the fact that Mark was laughing and hugging the creature with both arms as it licked his face liberally.

"Off, Runner!" Mark finally said, as he pushed himself up from under the affectionate creature. "Wow you've grown big! You put on thirty pounds since fall, I bet! Ann, this is Runner, a sixteen-month old pup of pack leaders Long Fang and Gray Shadow. He and I became good friends last year. Runner, this is Ann. ANN!"

The wolf raised his forefeet up to rest them on the arm of Walking Stone and peer into the face of Ann and smell her arm. He also seemed to take stock of the cast on her leg. "HURT?" he asked.

"BROKEN LEG," Mark replied.

"He's fantastic!" said Ann, "but look! He's injured!"

Using his flashlight for extra light, Mark closely examined his wolf friend and was disturbed to find numerous bite marks all over his body. Most were in the form of swollen bruises under thick ruffled grayish fur, but a few were ugly bloody areas of torn skin where patches of fur had been gouged off. Bleeding had coagulated to a stop but no scabs were yet formed: the wounds were obviously only hours old.

"Flies!" Mark exclaimed. "These must be fly bites! Lots of them! Some got past the protective fur and broke the skin."

"RUNNER HURT," the wolf confirmed. "TSIKS," he said the Mohawk word for fly. His thoughts were filled with anger and pain. "PACK HURT," he added. "PACK DEATH!"

"There are more wolf injuries and even deaths," Mark told his companions.

"How bad is it?" Ann asked.

"I don't know yet," Mark said. "Wolves don't understand numbers well enough to quantify how bad things are, but this is very bad. Let's get to the den and assess the situation."

"There were only a dozen wolves remaining in this pack," Mark explained, as Runner led them towards the den. "Most wolves moved south with most of our Tribe."

"I remember reading about the Tribe moving when I was a kid," said Ann. "At first it was thought that the whole Mohawk Tribe had moved away, but then it was discovered that some of the Tribe stayed to guard their sacred Giants' Rest Mountain."

"That's us, the stubborn remnant. My Dad says that after his Uncle White Cloud led most of our Tribe and clan animals south, there was a rush of intruding white men that had to be repelled. The ice sheets were forming then. Those were very tough times for the Tribe."

"Yet then somehow in the middle of all that your people managed to build huge greenhouses. How did the Tribe manage to do that?" Ann asked.

"Greenhouses?"

"Until the flies trashed it I had a little UAV with a camera that got some damn good pictures of them. Did the US Government build them for you?"

"No way!" Mark objected. "The US Government abandoned all Native Americans more than two decades ago as a cost-saving measure. There was no more Bureau of Indian Affairs to help with anything such as greenhouses."

"So you admit there are greenhouses?"

"Sure. Clever of you to get me to admit that, but you'll see them when I take you to Giants' Rest anyway, I suppose," Mark reasoned.

"But aren't they supposed to be a big Tribe secret? How can you take a reporter to see your Tribe's secret greenhouses?"

"Good question, but save it for later," said Mark. "We might not live that long anyway, and we near the okwaho den."

"Oh my God!" Ann exclaimed, when she realized what she was seeing in the light that Walking Stone and Mark's flashlight illuminated. The path they had been following ended at a deep cleft in the mountainside. Before it on the rocky ground the remains of hundreds of giant flies were scattered, wings and tough carapace parts that were inedible.

"The flies themselves ate all the flesh of their dead," said Mark. "But there was a great battle here."

"Is that a dead wolf?" Ann asked.

To one side of the path partly hidden by fly parts was a skeleton stripped free of all flesh, surrounded by torn furry strips of wolf-hide. Runner paused beside it and lifted his head to let out a mournful howl. The howl was answered by whimpers within the den, and by the howls of several wolves much further away somewhere higher on the Mountain.

"It was a wolf," said Mark. He fought down tears. "I can't even tell which one. Some of the pack hunts higher on the Mountain not very far from here. Much of what remains of the pack is in the den."

Beside him Runner looked up for a moment at his human friend, and then led the visitors into the den. The cleft in the rock was a cave opening just large enough to admit Walking Stone, but he had to put down Ann first and give her the crutches that had been strapped to his back. Mark entered first behind Runner, shining both his large flashlight and his little penlight, followed by Ann with her flashlight and crutches, followed by the increasingly brightly glowing Walking Stone.

The nauseating stench is what first struck the humans. A wolf den should normally smell a bit nasty to a human but this one was pungently putrid, an assault that nearly caused Mark and Ann to puke and run away. The air was chilly inside the cave also; in the mid-fifties at most, Ann judged. It was almost like being inside a refrigerator full of rancid food.

The sight was nearly as bad as the smell. A few feet in from the entrance the cave widened out to roughly the size and shape of a twenty-foot long hallway. At the feet of the three visitors lay more dead flies: several dozens of them, with wings and legs and torn oozing body parts that stunk of death. Mark had smelled this odor when he butchered they fly they ate earlier, he realized, but here in the confines of the cave and numerous fly bodies the odor was a thousand times stronger. There was a weaker smell of wolf urine and poop also. The wolves had befouled their own den in a futile attempt to overpower the smell of the dead flies.

Worst of all the entire mess was in motion. Some of the fly bodies twitched as if still alive, and hundreds of light colored objects the size and shape of half a human finger slowly crawled on the cave floor in every direction. "Magots!" Ann exclaimed. Hundreds poured out of the bodies of several of the dead flies after consuming their own dead parents, searching for more to eat.

Against the far wall of the cave four wolves lay huddled panting and shivering around a fifth prone wolf. The four lifted their heads and whimpered to acknowledge the return of Runner, and looked up at their visitors with wide eyes that stood out in the dim light. Runner lay down in front of them to establish a protective position, though not before crushing with a big paw several maggots that were crawling towards the wolves.

Thinking calming thoughts of reassurance and muttering words of greeting, Mark slowly and cautiously approached the prone wolves and crawled around to assess each one of them with his small penlight and soft touches of his hands. Ann feared that in their pain and fear they would attack the boy or at least nip off his probing fingers, but they all lay still. Each licked his hand and appeared to greatly appreciate his attentions; especially when he scratched them behind their ears. The big gray wolf in the middle never moved at all, and Ann had to wonder if it was alive at all.

At last Mark returned to where Ann and Walking Stone stood watching. Ann could see that the distressed young Mohawk was fighting back tears. "Runner is in the best shape of any of them by far; the others are weak from hunger, thirst, and especially loss of blood. Their thoughts are confused and not that easy to piece together even at the best of times, but for most of the day they were here fighting off the flies, attack after attack of them. They also keep repeating three names; those must be the names of their fallen pack members. The big wolf in the middle they huddle around to keep warm and protect is Gray Shadow herself, the female pack leader. She lives, but only barely. I couldn't raise a conscious thought from her. The three strongest remaining pack members are out hunting flies, as far as I can tell. That's probably a good thing; Long Fang the leader can be a bit difficult at times. Humans, even Tribe humans, aren't his favorite creatures. That's one of the reasons that this pack stayed here when the others went south."

"Now you tell me! But what can we do for them anyway?" Ann asked.

"They need medical help, protection, food, and water," said Mark. "I have to do whatever I can for them. The quest just got ten times harder again."

"So you're determined to help them then?" Ann had to ask.

"I have to try," said Mark. "As important as our quest is, keeping the wolves alive, like keeping you alive, is far more important. These wolves are essentially part of the Tribe, at least as far as the Tribe Wolf Clan is concerned. But even if they weren't, I'd have to try to help them no matter what."

"Can medical ticks help them?" Ann asked. "I've heard of the ticks helping other animals aside from humans."

"I don't know," Mark admitted. "I'll talk with the jants." He returned to sit near Runner while he mentally conversed with the jants.

"Well while you do that telepathy stuff I'm going to start to clean this place up," Ann announced. "Good God it stinks in here! And I won't rest until every damn maggot and wolf turd is gone." She got a plastic garbage bag from her backpack and a trekking pole from Mark's pack. She had only two extra-strong garbage bags. Using the pole and one of her crutches she was able to push fly parts and other nasty stuff into the bag one yucky thing at a time. Walking Stone joined her, knocking nasty things into the bag expertly with his big diamond-tipped toes at several times the rate of Ann's slow efforts. Quickly they settled into a routine where Ann focused on holding the bag open while Walking Stone pushed refuge into it. After they cleared one side of the room near the entrance, Ann helped the Stone-Coat take off the two camping backpacks and lay them in the cleared area.

The first trash bag was full. It would have to be emptied so that it could be used again. Ann helped Walking Stone remove his parka at his request and the Stone-Coat carried the bag away to empty it, leaving Ann to work on her own using only a flashlight for light. She found that if she lay down she could use one of her hands to more quickly fill the second bag. She used a small empty plastic bag as a glove so that she didn't have to directly touch anything nasty but it was still a disgusting job. The down side of her approach was that her face came within feet or even inches of disgusting fly parts, maggots, and wolf excrement that she scooped into the bag.

"Where did Walking Stone go?" Mark asked, when he finally joined her.

"To cool himself in a snowbank somewhere and empty a full trash bag," said Ann. "I envy him; he is out there in the warm fresh night air, while we're stuck here in this stinking refrigerator. God, I wish I had packed about a hundred pounds of fresh smelling baking soda!"

"He simply walked off by himself without me?" Mark asked, amazed.

"He's a big boy that can take care of himself," said Ann. "What's the big deal?"

"He can't hear or see me; that's the big deal!" Mark insisted.

"And why is that such a big deal?"

"This breaks the Treaty between humans and Stone-Coats!" Mark told her. "I should have gone with him!"

"You've been busy with the wolves," Ann noted. "Walking Stone knows that. What more have you learned?"

"The jants can help the wolves but they need more ticks," said Mark. "I've sent an owl to Giants' Rest to try to get more. We should get them in a couple of hours, if the Tribe decides to supply them."

"Why wouldn't they?" Ann asked. "Don't they have them?"

"Probably, but the Tribe is prohibited from helping my quest."

"But the wolves are the ones that need the help," Ann noted. "And you said that's more important than your quest."

"Maybe the Tribe will see it that way, maybe not."

"Well, in the meantime we already have one tick that can be used," said Ann.

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked.

"That big ugly bug on my back. Take it off me and put it on the wolf."

"But it's still helping to heal you and deaden your pain!" Mark explained.

"I'll get by but Momma Wolf won't. Get that tick off me and on to her A-S-A-P."

"The jants say it can be done but it will be a big strain on the tick," said Mark. "It's all geared up to support your chemistry now and it will be switching to support a significantly different species. The last common ancestor that humans and wolves share lived eighty-five million years ago. Since then evolution changed us both. That's a hundred-seventy million years of accumulated evolutionary divergence in body chemistry to deal with, even though our tribe and pack behavior has converged enough for us to get along together."

"Take the tick." said Ann. She turned her back to him and pushed up her sweatshirt and tee-shirt, exposing her bare back. Centered where most humans couldn't see or reach it was the big tick, gorged to twice its original size with her blood.

"OK, hold that pose for a minute and I'll get the jants to release the tick. It wouldn't do for me to break off its head inside your back."

"Hell no, it wouldn't!" agreed Ann. She tried to relax but couldn't. She abruptly felt a stinging pain centered on her back when the tick severed its neural link with her, but that was nothing compared with the sudden throbbing pain in her upper leg.

Moments later Mark lifted the tick off of her and dabbed away the resulting gush of blood that dribbled down her back with a paper towel. "Crap! That's going to bleed a bit," he said. From his first-aid kit he found his biggest bandage and put over the hole in her back, then helped her sit down on the cave floor. "Sit still until Walking Stone returns and we'll cauterize that if you're still bleeding," he told her.

"Never mind me; work on the wolves," Ann insisted, pulling down her shirt. She watched the tick that had been attached to her spit out several tablespoons of her blood onto the cave floor before Mark again picked it up.

To her surprise Mark put the tick on Runner at the base of his neck, instead of on Gray Shadow. "It has to calibrate itself to a healthy wolf first," Mark explained, "and Runner is the healthiest wolf that we have and the offspring of Gray Shadow."

Mark spoke calmly and pet Runner for fifteen long minutes while the tick sampled the young wolf's body chemistry. Then he moved the tick to Gray Shadow, who remained unconscious. For the next fifteen minutes the humans anxiously waited for first word from the jants on the older wolf's health. Far more exhaustively and quickly than would have been humanly possible, the tick/jant medical team examined the she-wolf.

"She is near death," Mark finally announced. "They recommend a second tick for her, if she lives long enough. This first tick might be able to keep her alive for an hour or two, but maybe not."

"When will the owl get back here with the additional ticks?" Ann asked.

"In an hour or so, if she is successful in getting any," said Mark. "And there is more nasty news: the flies have injected their larva into her. Maybe into some of the others too; we don't know yet."

"Maggots! Oh my God!" Ann exclaimed.

"They'll be eaten alive, but with more ticks we can handle that problem too," said Mark. "And how are you doing?"

"My leg hurts like hell," Ann admitted, "but I'll live."

Waking Stone returned and provided a warm glowing light.

"You left me and broke the Treaty," Mark told Walking Stone.

"You broke it first," noted Walking Stone. "Put my parka on me, please, and I will resume the cleanup effort."

"Cut off from the Mountain Stone-Coat enclave you are becoming quite the rebel, aren't you?" Mark remarked. "Well then, go ahead and resume your cleanup."

"We will do it together," said Ann.

"But your leg!" said Mark.

"It's going to hurt like hell anyway even if I just lay here," she noted, "so I might as well get some work done."

"Your logic is sound," remarked Walking Stone.

Mark offered the wolves water but most of them refused to drink any, even though he sensed that they were all thirsty. They were all in an anxious angry mourning tizzy, on top of individual weakness and pain, because of the death of three pack members and the pending death of Gray Shadow. There was really nothing else he could do for them directly now, he realized, so he also joined in the clean-up effort, though he continued to monitor Gray Shadow telepathically through the jants. With three of them working, cleanup progress was rapid, and the inside of the cave was soon finished, including the removal of every disgusting maggot they could find.

"It even smells a lot better," said Ann, "unless I'm just getting used to the stink."

"Airborne hydrocarbons are only twenty-three percent of what they were when we started," stated Walking Stone.

"Let's cleanup outside the cave too while we're at it," said Ann. "Plenty of nasty stinking airborne hydrocarbons out there."

There were even more fly parts outside than there were inside, but most had at least been mostly eaten clean by the hungry flies and weren't as messy. Waking Stone and Mark took turns carrying the full bags of fly remains down the path they had used to reach the den and returning with the emptied bags.

"Where are you guys emptying those bags?" Ann asked.

"At the closest Stone-Coat implant site," said Mark. "There are a couple of dozen of them on this mountain."

"Implant point? What's that?"

"It is a place where Stone-Coats have started to grow into the rock of Green Mountain," explained Walking Stone. "In only a hundred thousand years this mountain will host thousands of mature Stone-Coat units."

"I can't wait to see that," said Ann.

"That's very rapid development for Stone-Coats," said Mark. "Meanwhile they absorb waste and refuge dumped onto them. The potty spot near your earlier camp site was a Stone-Coat implant point."

"They eat poop?" Ann asked.

"They eat everything!" said Mark. "That's super useful for the Tribe!"

"And for Stone-Coats," said Walking Stone. "We make use of most elements, particularly carbon. Human waste is rich in many useful substances."

Ann again added to the growing set of knowledge that she would have to report on.

They buried the wolf remains not far from the den. When they finished there was a sound of howling wolves from higher on the Mountain. The howling was getting noticeably closer.

"Long Fang will return sometime later tonight," said Mark. "I wonder what he will think of all of this." Contacting the jants he checked on Gray Shadow's status again for probably the hundredth time since applying the tick. Again there was no appreciable change. The tick was administering helpful aid but the wolf was tiring. At some point soon the aid of one greatly over-taxed tick would not be enough to sustain her life.

"And I wonder about your owl friend and the additional ticks," said Ann.

****

### Chapter 12: Night Owl

Ed was just falling asleep when Mary shook him awake. It had been a long day, but now Jerry Green had gone back to Washington and things were back to normal, more or less. Or at least that's what was supposed to have happened. "What is it?" he asked.

"Visitors on Tribe business I suspect, Chief," Mary informed him.

"But I need my beauty sleep!" he complained.

"So that's your secret!" Mary concluded.

"SORRY TO DISTURB YOU, CHIEF," pathed Talking Owl from nearby, "BUT I HAVE JUST RECEIVED A VISITOR WITH AN UNUSUAL REQUEST."

"YOUR VISITOR ASKED YOU TO WAKE ME UP?" Ed guessed.

"NO, RACCOON; HE ASKED FOR MEDICAL TICKS," said Talking Owl.

Ed had by now thrown on a colorful Tribe robe and slippers. He told Mary to go back to bed and stepped through the curtains that formed the doorway, out of the modest suite that he and Mary called home and into the common area that ran the length of the Jant Clan Longhouse.

There stood Talking Owl, looking regal as always, even when wearing a plain gray robe instead of her usual ornate and colorful one. Her small size and subdued clothing contributed to the impression that the big snowy white owls that sat on each of her shoulders were truly gigantic and exotic. He tuned his thoughts to the owls. "SHE:KON," he greeted them both, as he nodded a Tribal greeting to Talking Owl. Yellow Claw he recognized by her thoughts, the other owl he did not.

"We of the Owl Clan know our visitor as Night Wing, a recent arrival to our Reservation from icy lands to the north and a new resident of Green Mountain," explained Talking Owl. "I fed him well, but he is impatient to get on with business and return to Green Mountain."

"I see," said Ed. "Could this have something to do with Mark?"

"What do you think? He says that Wolves are sick and he needs to have medical ticks," said Talking Owl.

Indeed, Ed could sense the owl repeating a message in English over and over again: "WOLVES SICK; NEED TICKS." It probably didn't know what it was saying; a powerful human telepath had to have given it the message and sent it here.

"And since this longhouse houses the Tribe medical ticks you brought him here?" Ed asked.

"That and the fact that fulfilling his request might be in violation of the need to not aid those on a spirit quest. Owls do not request or administer medical ticks. There is a sentient intent behind his actions."

"Mark, of course," admitted Ed. "That's pretty obvious."

"WHAT DO THE GREEN MOUNTAIN JANTS KNOW OF THIS?" Ed asked his local jants.

"THE GREEN MOUNTAIN JANTS ARE HELPING TREAT A HUMAN AND PLAN TO TREAT SEVERAL WOLVES," the jants replied.

"MARK DAWN OWL IS BEING TREATED BY JANTS?" Ed asked.

"NO," replied the jants. "ANOTHER HUMAN, IDENTITY UNKNOWN TO US, IS BEING TREATED: A NON-TRIBE HUMAN. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION IS NOT BEING MADE AVAILABLE, AS THE GREEN MOUNTAIN JANTS ARE DEDICATING ALL THEIR RESOURCES TO PROVIDING MEDICAL TREATMENT, AND THEY CONCLUDE THAT ADDITIONAL DATA COULD BREAK THEIR AGREEMENT TO NOT PASS ON QUEST INFORMATION."

"That's all very interesting," noted Talking Owl.

"It must be related to the fly attacks," said Ed. "The good news is, Mark is apparently alive, the bad news is, he's asking for help to deal with the medical needs of wolves and an intruder human."

"The owl message only mentioned wolves though," said Talking Owl. "The intruder situation isn't part of it, possibly because owl message capacity is tiny. From what Mark selected to tell us the most urgent issue is sick wolves that need ticks, not intruders."

"Nevertheless, ask your husband to increase surveillance for intruders around Green Mountain," Ed said.

"And the ticks?" she asked.

"There are twelve wolves; how many med-ticks can Night Wing carry?"

"Unknown, but he can certainly carry twelve," Talking Owl said.

"That is hopefully too many but those that aren't used will doubtless be returned to us."

"You intend to provide the ticks then, despite quest rules?"

"Yes," replied Chief Ed. "The Tribe and the animals of this Reservation are under attack by flies and there are one or more human intruders. I think we should do what the Tribe man on the scene has requested, even if it might bend quest rules a bit."

"The Council of Elders might not like it," Talking Owl warned.

"Tough. It's my call."

Talking Owl said nothing, but Ed could tell that she approved.

Ed contacted the jants, who rounded up the med-ticks and had them ready to go in minutes. He pack them into one of his wife's smaller leather purses, along with a short note for Mark: again breaking the quest rules. Talking Owl tied the purse to the owl's leg using its shoulder strap and then she and Ed walked the bird topside to the Deck.

There they repeated Mark's name to the bird several times, and saw him off.

Mary was awake when Ed returned to bed and grilled him mercilessly before letting him sleep. It had been a taxing night, but Ed knew that somewhere on Green Mountain young Mark was having a much tougher time.

****

### Chapter 13: Maggots

The first new tick was assigned to Gray Shadow. Others were soon assigned to the remaining wolves, including Runner, and then to Ann. Half of the ticks remained, and Mark carefully packed them away in the purse and put it in his pack. Med-ticks could go for weeks without feeding.

"Wow!" Ann said, as her pain abruptly disappeared. "I don't know why I objected to using a med-tick earlier; these things are great! With Walking Stone's help, when he gets back from emptying that last trash bag of fly parts, I'll cook us up some MREs. Do you think the wolves would drink some chicken soup?"

"I think they would do so gratefully," said Mark.

"Will you eat some of a MRE or do we have to find you a dead fly," Ann asked.

"I guess I'll eat some MRE," Mark admitted. "There was a note from Tribe Chief Ed in with the ticks that relaxed the quest rules just a bit."

"Really?"

"Essentially it said that I should stick with the quest rules if possible, but bend them if necessary to deal with sick wolves and with intruders," Mark explained.

"Intruders? How did he know about me? Did the owl tell him?"

"Not the owl. The jants must have told him," Mark guessed.

"The jants here can talk to him all the way back at Giants' Rest?" Ann asked.

"No, the jants here communicated with the jants at Giants' Rest. Jants anywhere can communicate with jants anywhere else," Mark explained.

"Anywhere?"

"Sure. Well, for several miles anyway. Anywhere world-wide where there are other jants they can relay a message using possibly hundreds of colonies. Isn't that common knowledge?" Mark said.

"Maybe for your Tribe it is. Some sort of mysterious jant to tick communications were claimed when the med-ticks and the jants were introduced to the public, but telepathy and intelligence to the degree you talk about is thought to be hyperbola. How smart are the jants, anyway?"

"Smarter than humans of course, when lots of them think together as one. Jant hives from all over the world tuned into the conference held yesterday. Billions of jant brains working together adds up to mega intelligence."

"What conference?"

"Tribe business I guess," Mark said evasively, suddenly aware that he was again blabbing about things he shouldn't be. "Where are those MREs?" he asked to change the subject. He went to the wolves and kneeled among them for several minutes before returning to tell the good news to Ann and Walking Stone as they heated MREs. "The jants report that Gray Shadow is already a little better. Got soup?"

Mark carried the soup around to the wolves and much to his relief they all drank a little. Even Gray Shadow opened her eyes and drank a little bit when she smelled the warm chicken soup. "DAWN OWL," she pathed weakly to Mark, before she closed her eyes and returned to her sleep, "COLD," she also managed to add.

Mark got his little camping blanket from his pack and spread it over the wolves, then fed them more soup. They were all a little stronger now, the jants reported. Mark himself breathed a little easier and chowed down on a MRE. It seemed to be mostly rice along with a healthy portion of reconstituted unidentifiable meat of some sort. It was the best thing Mark ever tasted, except maybe for the roast fly that he ate hours earlier. He was greatly relieved that the wolves were improving. He was also dead tired. After he finished eating he nearly dozed off as he sat propped up between Ann and Walking Stone.

"Should we set up my tent someplace?" Ann asked.

"I've been holding off on that until Long Fang gets back," Mark said. "I don't want to usurp his authority too much and upset him. This is his pack."

"The wolves seem to be waking up," Ann noted.

Indeed all the wolves except Gray Shadow followed Runner out of the den, and then returned a few minutes later to again lay closely around Gray Shadow.

"I could use a potty break myself," admitted Mark, which explained to Ann what the wolves had been up to.

"Me too. Do we have to hike to wherever the fly parts were dumped?" asked Ann as Mark stood up and Ann joined him.

"No. Anywhere a hundred yards from the den will do," said Mark. "Will you need help to walk?"

"No. The new tick has me feeling strong as a horse," said Ann. "I'll use my crutches and a pen-light to find myself a little girl's room. You can find yourselves a men's room."

After both humans returned from doing their business the wolves gathered around them. Even Gray Shadow lifted her head from under Mark's blanket and stared expectantly at the visitors.

"They seem to want something," said Ann.

"They want more of your MREs," explained Mark. "Cook up two more MREs for now and give each of them a little. Hopefully Long Fang will at some point bring them something more substantial."

A short while after the wolves again ate and returned to keep Gray Shadow warm Mark retrieved some small plastic bags from his pack and went to the side of the pack mother. "The jants say that she is strong enough to expel the maggots now," he explained. "I'll bag the disgusting buggers and try to keep all of the wolves calm."

"What can I do?" Ann asked.

"Stay calm yourself and pet them," said Mark. "You need to become better acquainted with them anyway. Start with Runner and get his scent on you. Let them all get your scent and most important get their scent on you. You just fed them so you should have no trouble. "

Ann had no trouble with Runner; the young wolf seemed much like a big puppy dog. He especially liked being scratched behind the ears.

"What about fleas and regular ticks?" Ann had to ask.

"The Tribe treats them with long-lasting anti flea and tick stuff," Mark reassured her. "But if there were any the med-ticks would have gotten rid of them anyway."

"They could still use a bath." Ann remarked.

"All of us could," Mark agreed. "At some point we should get back to the trout stream and its nice clean ice-cold water."

"OK, they are as calm and ready as they're going to be," Mark judged, after both humans had made a couple of circuits through the wolves. He uncovered Gray Shadow and had her lay on her side. Then he got his bags ready as instructed by the jants and waited. After about a minute thumb-sized maggots began to hastily crawl out of one of the wolf's stomach wounds: one, two, and three at a time. The other wolves that sat and watched moaned and howled, despite Mark's calming thoughts, and Ann had to turn away to keep from throwing up. With all that she and Mark had gone through already, they both thought that they could easily put up with anything but they were wrong. The sight of dozens of squirming slimy white worm-things erupting from the injured wolf was the worst thing that either of the humans had ever witnessed.

Mark skillfully caught them in his little plastic bag, every one of them. The bag was brown and opaque, so thankfully the maggots were soon out of sight, but the bag undulated with them. More and more writhed out of the wolf, until at last the jants informed Mark that they were all expelled. Throughout it all Gray Shadow panted heavily but remained calm.

"My God!" Ann exclaimed, as Mark tied the bag shut with twine. "There must be two pounds of them!"

"Two more wolves need the same treatment," Mark said, as he fetched more empty bags. The grizzly maggot exorcism was soon carried out for the other two infested wolves without incident. Mark gathered the small bags into one bigger bag that Walking Stone carried away to the Stone-Coat implant site where they would be consumed along with the other fly remains. He liked the fact that the maggots would soon be consumed by Stone-Coats.

When Walking Stone returned a few minutes later he was not alone.

"She:kon Long Fang!" Mark said in greeting, when he saw the wolf-pack leader closely follow Walking Stone into the den. Mark motioned Stone Coat and Ann behind him to one side of the cave where the packs were. Mark kneeled down in what he hoped was a submissive stance and Ann sat down next to Walking Stone.

"RONKWE EKSA'A," the wolf said as he placed himself between the intruders and his pack members, bared his teeth, and growled menacingly.

"He called me man-child," said Mark. "But I can't say that he's happy to see us. Think friendly thoughts and don't stare into his eyes."

Even in the dim light given off by Walking Stone it was evident to Ann why the big brownish-gray wolf was called Long Fang. At the moment the big wolf seemed to be considering if he should immediately attack and tear out the boy's throat. Two other big wolves entered the den and took up positions on either side of their leader. The hair on these wolves also stood up and they stared menacingly at Mark and Ann just as Long Fang did. Whatever their leader did, they would follow.

There was suddenly more movement as Runner walked slowly around Long Fang and his lieutenants and with head, tail, and ears down head and a little whine presented himself submissively to Long Fang. The pack leader gave a little growl but licked the younger wolf on the face.

Then the young wolf turned and walked to Mark, licked the boy on the face, and pushed him over on his back with his paws. Mark responded with a little petting and hugging, which was the apparently best that a human could do. Long Fang watched attentively.

There was a lot of wolf communications going on here for sure, Ann figured; through scent, touch, body posture, and perhaps even telepathy. Long Fang was dominant over pack member Runner who was dominant over pack member Mark.

Long Fang visibly relaxed but maintained his defensive position. There was more background motion and Ann was startled to see Gray Shadow herself walk unsteadily to Mark and lick him on the face, and then do the same with her before lying down between them. The other injured wolves soon joined Gray Shadow, until there was a big mixed up pile of wolves and humans.

The tension in the den was all gone. Long Fang calmly walked to Mark and sniffed him extensively, and then did the same with Ann. "HURT?" he asked when he examined Ann's leg cast.

"HURT," Mark confirmed.

Long Fang walked all about the den, sniffing everything. "TSIKS GONE?" he thought, while staring pointedly at Mark.

"TSIKS GONE," Mark confirmed. "GOOD," he added.

The big wolf walked to where Gray Shadow lay and licked her precisely where the maggots had emerged from her.

"EKSA'A TSIKS GONE," Mark projected, preempting the wolf's next question.

The big wolf walked to Mark and licked him lavishly on the face. "GOOD," he projected.

And that was that.

****

### Chapter 14: Tsiks Attack

In the early morning Mark was surprised to wake to the smell of cooking food. Ann, Walking Stone, and most of the wolves were gone from the den.

Not far outside the den Mark was astonished to find Ann sitting next to a big flat rock where she was butchering flies with his hunting knife. Nearby Walking Stone cooked fly pieces in a pan that he held and heated in one hand while with a diamond tipped finger of his other hand he flipped and stirred the simmering pieces of meat. Atop a big nearby rock cooked fly pieces cooled under the watchful eye of several wolves, who took turns eating the meat whenever it had cooled enough. Mark was very pleased to see Gray Shadow eating along with the others. The med-ticks had worked miracles.

"You're just in time for breakfast, Mark," said Ann. "Guess what? Just like us the wolves like their fly meat better when it's cooked! The three hunters keep bringing in dead flies and I keep butchering them and Walking Stone keeps cooking them and the wolves keep eating them!"

"This early in the morning the flies must be lethargic enough to be caught," Walking Stone reasoned. "After an hour or two more sun they'll be hunting wolves and humans."

Long Fang arrived with a big dead fly in his jaws and dropped it at Ann's feet. The reporter lay it atop the stone where she carved it to bits, throwing nasty fly pieces into a garbage bag and saving the meaty ones for Walking Stone's simmering pan.

"Eat, Man-Child" Ann told Mark, and Long Fang told him something similar.

Soon he was chowing down on yummy strips of fly meat. His Tribal diet was almost totally vegetarian, but he found the fly meet to be delicious. "Is this really what chicken tastes like?" he asked. "I would have said pheasant."

"You never ate chicken?" Ann asked, astonished.

"Maybe some bits of it now and again," Mark admitted, "but the Tribe gets very little meat to eat lately. We're big on beans and fish as protein sources. I figured I'd be eating mostly fish for most of my quest."

"I figured on eating MREs for most of my own quest, but almost half of them are gone already," said Ann. "If I am to survive for almost two more weeks during your spirit quest I guess I'll have to go native and eat mostly flies and fish also."

"First we have to live that long," said Mark. "The weakened wolf pack won't survive another attack like they had yesterday. What I gather from their thoughts is that Long Fang and the other two with him were spared the attacks because the three of them were out hunting miles from the den. They returned to find the rest of the pack decimated. Only the hunting party and Runner are strong enough to effectively fight the flies, but I have a plan that might work. We need to make the den fly-proof."

"How?" Ann asked.

"Only your tent is large enough to barricade the den entrance," Mark explained. "I'm sure the flies will chew through it eventually but we have no other options. We'll have to work fast to set it up. I'll fetch some wood to help hold the tent in place."

"Are you sure that the flies are coming back?" Ann asked.

"Ninety percent sure," Mark estimated. "From what I've been able to learn from the wolves Long Fang and his two best hunters killed hundreds of dormant resting flies last night, but most flies were resting on the high mountain sides where they couldn't be reached. The owls killed many others but not enough to make a difference. Besides, more might fly in from the west. In any case we can't take the chance that they won't attack; we have to be as ready for them as we possibly can. I'll get the sticks. Walking Stone, you cool off and help Ann do some quick clean up and prepare the tent, which may need some alterations. Prepare it for sticks that will be tied to it as a frame. And try to herd the wolves into the den. We don't want them to be out in the open when the tsiks come looking."

Several wolves looked at Mark quizzically and raised their ears when they heard him mention tsiks, and they seemed anxious when he run off with his hatchet. Runner went with him, but the remaining wolves stayed at the den and attentively watched Ann and Walking Stone move about urgently, doing things they didn't comprehend but could sense were important.

"Tsiks," Ann said once in a while, when she caught the wolves watching her work. Gray Shadow shortly led all the remaining wolves except her mate to the rear of the den, absolving Ann of any necessity to try to get them to go inside. Long Fang sat on-guard alone outside the den, calmly watching, listening, and sniffing the air.

Drawn by his motion, flies attacked Mark and Runner as they returned when they were only a hundred yards from the den. Burdened by a big bundle of sturdy sticks tied in a bundle with rope, Mark nevertheless killed the first fly skillfully with his hatchet. He and Runner retreated away as fast as they could while a half-dozen more flies converged on the dead fly and ripped it to pieces.

The tactic bought precious fly-free seconds for the fleeing pair, but too soon they were again discovered and again attacked. This time the attacking fly came too close to Runner and was decapitated by strong wolf jaws. This second dead fly was attacked by the other flies but now there were a dozen of them and they consumed their fallen comrade twice as quickly.

By the time the dozen feeding flies resumed their attack on Mark and Runner, the commotion got the attention of yet more flies. Before this Mark hadn't understood how the flies had managed to overcome a wolf pack, but now he knew. Killing some of them only caused a feeding frenzy that brought more of them. They were almost within sight of the den, but Mark was tiring fast. Given the geometric growth in the number of their attackers he knew that they would be overwhelmed before they reached the den.

As the growing wave of the giant insects closed again on them and they turned to face them a big gray-brown something flashed past them and flew into the thick of the flies: Long Fang decapitated two flies and de-winged another in moments.

"RUN!" the wolf-pack leader commanded, as Mark and Runner also each brought down a fly. All three fled, reaching the den before the next attack. The tent covered most of the den entrance, but it zipped open at the bottom enough for Mark to shove in his bundle of sticks and crawl in after them, followed by the wolves. Mark turned when he was in to see that Walking Stone stood in the den opening, holding up the top tent edges in his big three-fingered hands, and holding down the bottom edges with his clawed feet. Mark and the wolves had entered the den by crawling between the Stone-Coat's legs.

"Let's have your sticks," said Ann, as she zipped shut the opening. Mark noticed that there were many short lengths of cord hanging along each edges of the tent. Ann had been busy while he was gone. These cords the humans tied to the sticks that Mark quickly trimmed to appropriate lengths. Meanwhile the first fly pushed its way in along an edge and buzzed into the den, to quickly die in the jaws of Runner.

The humans continued to work on the tent-barrier while the healthiest wolves picked off flies that got in along the tent edges. The recuperating wolves huddled in the rear of the cave and watched anxiously. The four healthy wolves were determined not to let any flies get past them and so far they were successful. Gradually the barrier conformed better to the den opening and the fly incursions decreased. Also, the barrier stood on its own without Walking Stone holding it.

"It's working!" said Ann. "We have a dozen killed flies in here but it could be a lot worse."

"If I had the skills of my more dexterous ancestors the barrier would have been twice as good in half the time, but it will do," said Mark. "The question is, how long will it hold up? They must smell us in here, or smell the dead flies, or something, because they keep on coming!"

Sunlight filtered through the tent material, and the shadows of a dozen flies walking on the outside of the barrier looking for a way in could clearly be seen. The buzzing of many others could be heard, and the buzzing was getting louder.

A half hour went by, and though the number of flies walking on the outside of the barrier doubled, none got in. Until one finally did. It pushed in along an edge and was immediately crushed by Walking Stone. Another immediately followed and met the same fate. While the Stone-Coat held the spot closed, Mark made hasty repairs. Then another one got in. Alarmingly, this one had chewed through the tent material near its middle. Mark tried to tie it shut but two other flies attacked the hole, pushing through and ripping the hole even bigger.

Walking Stone finally placed a huge fist in the hole, but soon another hole was opened nearby. Then another. Suddenly there were more flies in the den than the four healthiest wolves could handle.

Walking Stone turned his broad parka-covered back to the barrier and backed into it, blocking the holes. The flies were slowed but they still crawled in around Walking Stone.

Walking Stone killed a few flies with ice-sickles shot from his mouth, while Ann used a stout stick to club the flies and Mark whacked at them and cut them with his hatchet and hunting knife. Four wolves attacked what got past them, and the five recuperating wolves took care of those that got past all their protectors. The flies seemed to sense which wolves were weakest and most tried to get to them, but some also went directly after the protectors. For Ann and Mark, as well as for most of the wolves, this was too much like their terrifying previous experiences with the flies. Soon they were mostly protecting themselves.

"This is unsatisfactory," noted Walking Stone. "The tent barrier is disintegrating and I will soon be in steam mode, followed by stationary mode. In minutes I will become powerless to aid you."

Mark saw that many of the flies were eating their fallen comrades. When the dead flies were gone, all flies would focus on humans and wolves, and all humans and wolves would die. Or worse yet, some of them would become food for fly larvae.

"You have to do some of that psychic stuff you do!" Ann told Mark.

"What psychic stuff?" Mark responded.

"Psychic fly talk or whatever," Ann added.

"I've already tried!" said Mark, as with his hunting knife he stabbed a big fly that tried to eat his face. "They're too stupid to communicate with!"

"Don't try to teach them quantum physics, geek," Ann replied. "Go primitive on them, like you tried to do with the fish."

"The fishing incident did result in unusual fly behavior," said Walking Stone. "You should try what Ann suggests. I will focus on protecting you while you make the attempt."

They were right, Mark realized. Even if it was a longshot he had to try. Trusting his personal protection to Walking Stone, he defocused his 'normal' senses and reached out telepathically to the life around him. He immediately sensed the anger and fear of the wolves, but had to block that and reach beyond them to the flies. Beyond what the wolves could sense were other thoughts, thoughts that only few of the most talented humans could possibly detect. It didn't turn out to be too hard: there were dozens of the creatures in the den and thousands outside headed for the den and their thoughts were strong. Once Mark know what to look for their thoughts were so intense that it was difficult to tolerate them. They were essentially on the same 'wavelength' as trout thoughts, he noticed. Perhaps earlier he had influenced a fly when he was trying to influence the fish!

Figuring out what the creatures were thinking was difficult, but with his Grandmother Talking Owl he had done this with dozens of creatures, including birds, insects, rodents, and fish. From the flies he detected vague but strong, savage, instinctual feelings: "HUNGER, ANGER, KILL, EAT!" The creatures were incapable of complex thoughts and concepts, all they had were instincts and emotions that fed off the emotions of themselves and each other.

Right now they were in a feeding frenzy, to the point where they even ate the dead of their own kind. The creatures seemed to be almost totally out of control. That probably made sense, Mark reasoned. They attacked prey that was often dangerous to them, without regard for their own safety.

Could he change their nasty savage mindset? He briefly tried to appeal for peace and calm, but very quickly gave up. Such feelings were so foreign to them that they had no meaning, and their need to kill and feed was much too strong for him to overcome.

Hunger and attacking was the only thing they understood, so if he was going to influence them at all, there was only one way he could do it. Instead of fighting their feelings he added to them. "HUNGER, ATTACK, KILL, FEED," he projected as strong as he could, over and over again. It was exactly what he had done earlier when he was trying to catch fish, he realized. He could sense magnified feelings echoing back from them, stronger than ever. Too strong: insanely strong, such that all other instincts were completely overwhelmed.

Instead of bothering to look for prey, the flies attacked whatever living thing was nearest to them, which typically turned out to be another fly. In the den most flies were soon eating both each other and fly larvae. Outside the den swarming flies attacked each other by the hundreds and drew more flies that attacked and consumed each other by the thousands. The killing went on and on for what seemed to Mark like hours. The flies in the den were long dead but farther away he could sense more and he silently shouted his telepathic message to them also. More came and more died: wave after wave of flies mad with hunger. Mark didn't stop until he sensed no more flies at all anywhere.

Then he was tired; more tired than he had ever been in his life, and he sensed nothing.

****

### Chapter 15: The Fly Mystery

"The flies are gone," Running Bear told announced to Ed, Mary, and Talking Owl. The trio was in the Council Chamber and had been actually discussing the fly problem when Running Bear burst in with his surprising information.

"You mean they've all been killed?" asked Mary.

"No, they all flew away," said Running Bear. "Tribe scouts report thousands of them have left Giants' Rest Mountain."

"That's wonderful news!" said Mary.

"Not necessarily," said Running Bear. "They all flew East."

"Towards Green Mountain," Ed noted. "Crap!"

"We have seen how they swarm when they find prey," said Running Bear. "I don't like it."

"I will send swift falcons to scout out what is happening," said Talking Owl.

They all rushed topside and gathered together with Mark's anxious parents on the Deck. Talking Owl met briefly with a pair of peregrine falcons that soon flew off swiftly towards Green Mountain. Though reassurances were repeatedly given to the parents, there was a growing dread among them all.

"I wish the damned helicopter was available!" said Ed.

"But using it would break the quest rules!" said Talking Owl.

"Screw the quest rules!" said Ed. "Pardon my French people, but we do need to know what's happening, quest or no quest."

"The falcons should return in less than an hour," said Talking Owl. "They are to report what they see but not interfere."

They all brooded while they waited. "The only thing we have found that induces fly swarming behavior is a feeding frenzy," noted Mark's father, Frank Gray Wolf. "On the other hand, perhaps we are mistaken; our study of them has just begun."

"No," said Talking Owl. "I have sensed their insane hate when they attack prey, and witnessed the response of their peers. A great feeding frenzy may be occurring at Green Mountain: an event of such magnitude that it attracts all flies for many miles around."

Such as might occur if hundreds of pounds of wolf and human flesh were made available to them, nobody added aloud.

"We should have delayed the spirit quest," said Ed. "This is my fault."

"None of us would have supported that," said Running Bear.

"My Grandson is far too smart to be consumed by flies," Talking Owl insisted, but it seemed to Ed that he saw a tear run down her cheek.

An hour went by, and the falcons still did not return. Had the swift birds been sent to their deaths? In great numbers the flies could overcome even the most swift and powerful raptors.

At last both Talking Owl and Ed broke into wide grins. "Humans and wolves live!" the Owl Clan Leader declared joyously. "They live!"

There were hugs and laughter throughout the group. Meanwhile the two falcons physically arrived to each perch upon the extended arm of Talking Owl where they were further interrogated.

"Many wolves were seen walking outside their den, and all flies seen were dead or dying," said Talking Owl.

"What killed them?" Mary asked.

"Unknown," said Talking Owl. "But a Stone-Coat was seen wallowing in a snow bank."

"Walking Stone wouldn't have been injured by flies anyway," said Running Bear. "On the up side, he would have broken his silence if the quest was over-with, so we can interpret his continued radio silence as good news about Mark."

"What about humans?" asked Mark's still worried mother, Morning Dove.

"They report seeing only one human outside the den," said Talking Owl.

"Mark or an intruder?" asked Mary.

"Unknown," said Talking Owl.

"Someone could be in the den where they would not be seen by the falcons," said Walking Bear. "That multiple wolves and at least one human remain alive is outstandingly good news. The worst case scenario of everyone being eaten by flies clearly has not happened."

"But what killed the flies?" Frank asked. "Further, we have seen that some fly victims are not immediately killed and eaten, but suffer an even worse fate."

"Maggots!" said Ed, with such disgust that he almost spit out the word. "The flies leave living victims that are infested with maggots!"

"Can we get any status information from the Green Mountain jants?" Running Bear asked.

"Well dah!" exclaimed Ed. Why hadn't they thought of that before?

A minute later, Ed breathed a deep sigh of relief. "It took my wrangling with several layers of jant hierarchy to get some answers but I managed. The jants report nine wolves, five being treated by ticks, and two humans, one being treated by a tick for a broken leg and the other one sleeping. They confirm that no wolves or humans have died today and none are seriously injured. They also happily report that the entire jant colony is busy consuming an abundance of dead flies and maggots."

"There should be twelve wolves," said Running Bear. "But the overwhelming flavor of the news is outstandingly good."

"And we can all go back to our normal summertime routine," said Ed. "Except that instead of trying to figure out how to kill the giant flies, we need to figure out what's already killing them. Or maybe simply wait for Mark to tell us."

"Works for me," Running Bear remarked.

****

### Chapter 16: Idyllic Campout

"What is your physical status?" Walking Stone asked.

It was the first thing Mark heard as he woke up. He found that he lying down on his back inside the den, and that it was still daylight. Next to him stood Walking Stone in his parka. Behind the Stone-Coat what was left of the tent barricade was hanging in tatters. Otherwise the den was empty. There were no wolves, no dead flies, no backpacks, and no blonde news reporters. "I seem to be OK."

"There was some concern," said Walking Stone. "You have been unconscious for several hours."

"I was sleeping," said Mark. "How are Ann and the wolves?"

"Everyone suffered minor bites but are otherwise in reasonable and improving health."

"What about the flies?"

"No live flies have been observed since you did something to cause them to kill and eat each other. At least that is our theory of what happened."

"Yes, that's what happened," Mark confirmed. "Where is everybody?"

"The warm life individuals except for you are all outside enjoying what they consider to be a nice summer day," said Walking Stone. "The coolness of the den is much preferable but I have been requested to return outside and again supply my services after fetching you."

With some difficulty Mark managed to stand up and stumble outside. "Deja-vous all over again," he mumbled. Ann was couched before her flat table-top rock, carving up a fly and dropping fly meat into a pan. Nearby wolves were lined up awaiting their shares of fly meat.

"There you are, lazy bones!" said Ann. "Just because you saved us all doesn't mean you get to sleep all day! Get your stony-faced friend to cook more fly meat or you'll miss dinner altogether."

Twenty minutes later Mark had eaten his fill. "I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but I'm getting tired of eating bug meat."

"Well aren't you the kid that is going to catch yummy fish?" Ann asked. "We're running out of yummy flies anyway. What did you do to them?"

"I was able to amplify their ferocious thoughts," Mark explained. "They went so crazy that they attacked each other."

"How did you know to do that?" Ann asked.

"I didn't," said Mark. "It was the only thing I knew how to do that could possibly influence them, so I did it, hoping that it would alter their behavior in our favor, just as it did for that first fly while I was fishing."

"We got lucky?" asked Ann.

"Very lucky," said Mark. "My Grandfather says we mostly make our own luck; my Grandmother says that mostly our luck makes us."

"That about covers it," said Ann. "I would like to meet these wise people now that it looks like we might live long enough to survive your quest."

"More flies are likely to migrate here from the West," said Walking Stone. "Based on news reports of previous behavior they can be expected perhaps every two to four days.

"Good," said Mark. "We'll probably be tired of fish by then."

"We'll survive," said Ann. As she sat talking with Mark she was absentmindedly petting Long Fang with one hand and Runner with the other: the biggest and most powerful wolves in the pack. "Our friends here will see to it."

Mark was very impressed with how quickly the wolves had warmed to Ann, even Long Fang. Humans really have to have themselves all together for wolves to trust and like them.

"So the Tribe has a Wolf Clan and an Owl Clan, right?" said Ann. "Are there other clans?"

"Bear, Jant, and Stone-Coat Clans," said Mark. "I was going to be Owl Clan but it was decided that because I was already hooked up with Walking Stone I should be the first Stone-Coat Clan member instead. Besides, that way the Treaty would be preserved."

"Yes, you mentioned a treaty before," said Ann. "Can you tell me more about it?'

"Ah! I don't know if I should be telling you about that," said Mark. "Let's go fishing."

Ann had to smile. Mark's quest would last at least ten more days. By then her leg would be mostly healed and she would get back to civilization with her story somehow. And by then she would know much more about the Treaty and everything else about the Tribe and their Stone-Coat friends. She turned off the video recording device imbedded in her baseball cap to conserve memory. She already had great footage of Ice Giants marching along their trails, Tribe greenhouses, wolves, flies attacking, and her young friend Mark and his personal Stone-Coat companion. And she expected to record much more before she escaped Mohawk County.

****

### Chapter 17: Homecoming

"Yellow Claw reports to Talking Owl that they are almost here!" shouted Frank Gray Wolf to the gathered crowd. Except for a few warriors on guard duty, the entire Northern Tribe consisting of more than a thousand humans and a few clan owls was waiting at the topside Deck to greet Mark Dawn Owl and celebrate his triumphant return. Those Tribe members that had old-time Mohawk attire were decked out in feathers, colorful shirts and robes made from hand woven materials and furs, and adorned with patches, necklaces, and bracelets. It was late afternoon, but in expectation of the coming feast many of the Tribe had skipped lunch altogether. Mary and her crew of oldsters attended great pots of soup and steamed vegetables which the crowd smelled with growing anticipation.

"Good!" said Running Bear. "Much longer and we'd have to feed this crowd before their arrival, and our young hero would have nothing but leftovers to eat."

"I don't think there will be any leftovers, Mohican," said one of the hungry waiting tribesmen.

"Not a bite," agreed a second tribesman, amid laughter.

"And we expect to be entertained as well as fed," added a third. "I hope that in addition to white man science you have instructed your son on how to tell a good tale, Gray Wolf."

"Even if told poorly and full of science, the tale will doubtlessly be a good one," said Running Bear. "I for one want to know about the flies. They disappeared to Green Mountain that first day, and the same thing happened on four additional occasions since then, including yesterday. That's five huge waves of the things handled. It had to be Mark's doing."

"And what about the mysterious intruder with the broken leg," added a warrior. "Who are they, how did they get here, and what do they want?"

"And what will we do with them?" asked another. It was a question for which their anxious Chief Ed the Raccoon had no answer.

"And how did any of them manage to get across the ice," added another, "especially with a heavy Stone-Coat along?"

"Here they come!" came a shout from the edge of the Deck.

Ed, Mary, and Mark's family made their way through the crowd to the Deck edge where they could see Mark and the others arriving where the ice sheet and mountainside met. It was one of the strangest sights that any of them had ever seen. In the lead at the end of what looked like a long leash was a big gray wolf; Runner was his name, many of the Tribe knew. Following ten yards behind the wolf at the other end of the leash was Walking Stone. The parka-wearing Stone-Coat was harnessed to a sizable wood-frame sled by a thirty-food length of heavy Stone-Coat manufactured rope with which he pulled the sled effortlessly.

Atop the sled among camping gear reclined a stunningly attractive blonde woman with a full cast covering her left leg. She held a camera of some sort that she pointed at the greenhouses, the Deck, the Tribe, and everything else in sight that was supposed to be a Tribal secret. Behind her Mark Dawn Owl stood tall on the rear rails of the sled, leaning this way and that to help stabilize and steer the contrivance, which closely resembled an old-time dogsled. Despite the fact that he was almost home the boy looked worried.

When they reached the edge of the ice the arriving humans were surrounded by dozens of excited jabbering Tribe people that half guided-half carried Mark and Ann up a steep ten-foot grade to Deck level, where Mark's parents and grandparents smothered Mark in hugs and kisses, leaving Ed to greet the intruder and the huge wolf that stood by her side.

"You are Ann Richards the missing reporter!" said Ed in astonishment, as he reached out to shake her hand. She was stunningly beautiful, he couldn't help noticing. But he was shocked to find that the mysterious intruder was the missing reporter that was the subject of recent local TV broadcasts. Back in the good-old-days most Reservation intruders were members of the 47ers Club, a group with members that strove to climb all 47 New York mountain peaks over four thousand feet. There were numerous hunters also. Reporters were very rare.

"She:kon, Runner," Ed said to the huge wolf, in a respectful greeting of equals. The big wolf stood with its shoulder pressed against the leg cast of the reporter, a little nervous due to the huge throng of humans, but obviously very protective of the human that he stood with.

"Call me Ann, please," the reporter replied. "And you must be Chief Ed, the white-man Mohawk Chief and telepath. I've heard a lot about you."

"I suppose you have," Ed replied. "Simply call me Ed, please." Good grief, the kid was stuck for two weeks with a nosy reporter! Could the situation be any worse? Well at least it was a beautiful reporter. "How is your leg?"

"Quite well, thank you," she replied, "as your jant friends have probably told you."

"They are giving me a full report on you and the wolves right now," Ed admitted. "We'll soon be able to remove your cast."

"Do you know what you're going to do with me beyond removing my cast?" she asked. Her left hand was absent mindedly scratching behind the ears of Runner.

She came straight to the point. Ed liked that in people. "I haven't a clue yet. But first things first: there is a traditional spirit quest protocol to follow now."

"My camera is ready," she replied with a big smile.

"Swell!" said Ed. "Welcome to Giants' Rest, Ann."

As Mark's parents and grandparents made their way to Ann Richards to introduce themselves, Ed made his way to Mark, who tensed when he saw the Chief approach him.

"Congratulations young man," he told the boy as he heartily shook his hand. "TELL ME ABOUT HER," he asked telepathically.

"I HAD TO BREAK PROTOCOL TO HELP SAVE HER," Mark admitted. "SHE IS VERY PERSISTENT. I'M AFRAID SHE HAS LEARNED MUCH ABOUT THE TRIBE AND STONE-COATS THAT OUTSIDERS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW."

"YES, YES, THAT WAS UNAVOIDABLE," said Ed. "YOU DID VERY WELL."

Relief spread across the young man's face.

"I WANT TO KNOW FROM YOU NOW ONLY THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, IF YOU KNOW IT," said Ed. "WHAT KIND OF PERSON IS SHE? IS SHE A GOOD PERSON?"

"YES," pathed Mark immediately, "SHE IS VERY MUCH A GOOD PERSON. EVEN WITH A BROKEN LEG SHE DID WHATEVER SHE COULD TO UNSELFISHLY HELP. THE WOLVES LIKE HER; INCLUDING EVEN LONG FANG AND ESPECIALLY RUNNER. SHE HAS A GOOD AND STRONG CHARACTER AND HELPED GREATLY WITH THE SUCCESS OF THE QUEST. WE OWE EACH OTHER OUR LIVES."

"EXCELLENT!" pathed Ed. "THAT IS BY FAR THE MOST IMPORTANT THING FOR US TO KNOW. GOOD JOB!"

Behind Mark stood Talking Owl, dressed her most colorful robes. "HEN (yes)," she stated, as she nodded her head in affirmation. "I TRUST THE JUDGEMENT OF MY GRANDSON AND THE WOLVES IN THIS. THIS INTRUDER MUST BE DEALT WITH FIRMLY, BUT WITH RESPECT AND COMPASSION."

Ed climbed up upon a picnic table and motioned for the crowd to hush, which they quickly did. "As Your Chief I declare the spirit quest to be successfully concluded, and Mark Dawn Owl to be a full adult member of the Tribe, and Walking Stone to also be our Tribe brother," he shouted.

There were several minutes of cheering, after which the crowd again quieted enough to allow Ed to continue. "Now we will eat together in celebration of the return of our Tribe brothers Mark and Walking Stone. Then they will tell us of their quest and answer all of our questions. Then we will conclude the formal part of our celebration and move on to serious partying."

At a center Deck picnic table Ann sat next to Ed, along with Mary and Mark and his family. Walking Stone retreated to a nearby cooling station and Runner settled to the floor behind Ann.

Food was immediate and plentiful. It consisted of everything available from the greenhouses, cooked in every manner discovered over the centuries by the Tribe. There were traditional beans, greens, squash, and corn, in multiple varieties baked, broiled, and boiled using various herbs and spices. There were big bowls of ripe red strawberries everywhere. In lesser quantities there were peppers, tomatoes, carrots, sweet potatoes, onions, and grains. There was also acorn mush, made from acorns sent the previous fall from the Southern Tribe. It was a favorite of Ed's when smothered with maple syrup and an instant hit with Ann. Fresh strawberry juice and strawberry flavored peppermint tea completed the menu.

"Your greenhouses are fabulous," Ann told Chief Ed, when eating had slowed and while the rest of the table was engaged in other conversation. "I saw them from a distance without realizing how huge they are. Mark wouldn't tell me how they were made but of course the Stone-Coats had to be involved, right?"

"I suppose that you learned a lot from Mark and Walking Stone about Stone-Coats already," said Ed. "Enough for quite an interesting news story."

"I don't like partial stories," said Ann. "And I like to know as much as possible about anything I do a story on."

"I don't like partial stories either," said Ed. "And I don't like negativity, especially about folks that are doing their damnedest to survive and do the right thing for everybody, including billions of people that never even heard of them."

"Is that the Tribe?" Ann asked.

"You camped with a fresh new Tribe member for two weeks, what do you think?"

"The kid's a platinum quality super hero. Is the whole Tribe like him?"

"Don't I wish!" said Ed with a smile. "I suspect that in many ways he is probably one of the best of us."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Ann. "My story would certainly include my positive impressions of Mark, the Tribe, and the Stone-Coats. So are you going to let me do my story?"

"I'm thinking about it," said Ed. "Mostly because Mark and the wolves like you. But it would have to be the full story: everything."

"Everything?"

"Open kimono," said Ed. "But first things first. Here comes the main course."

The main course was fish. It was a special treat for the Tribe, but Mark and Ann stuck with the vegetables and fresh strawberries. For two weeks they had eaten almost nothing but fish and flies.

"You just missed our annual strawberry festival Ann," said Ed. "But thanks to our greenhouses and our handy ice sheets that support food preservation, we have yearlong access to many of our favorite foods."

"We have something special for those of you that don't want fish," announced Mary.

A large tray was brought to the head-table. Atop a bed of colorful vegetables a whole broiled fly lay on its back, still steaming. Even for Ed, who had endured three and a half decades of Tribe critter food, the sight was nauseating.

Ann was not disturbed by the sight. "Look!" she told Mark with a grin. "It's a yummy fly!"

"But it isn't butchered!" said Mark. "Ann is an expert at butchering flies! She's done hundreds of them!"

"Hundreds?" asked Talking Owl incredulously.

"Mostly for the wolves," said Mark. "I killed most of them, Ann butchered them, Walking Stone cooked them, and the wolves ate most of them. Ann says that they taste like chicken."

As Mark spoke, Ann cut at least half of the meat from fly, put it on her plate, and put the plate on the Deck behind her. Runner immediately dug into the juicy roast fly.

"I think the whole Tribe would like to hear that story," said Running Bear.

"Me too. Enough eating, questers," announced Ed. "Walking Stone, can you and your fellow Stone-Coat observers help broadcast your story?"

"Affirmative," said Walking Stone, as he emerged from the cooling station.

"Can Ann help us tell our story?" Mark asked Chief Ed. "She was a huge part of it."

"If that's what you all want to do," said Ed.

The trio accompanied by Runner was ushered to a small raised section of Deck that was the closest thing to a stage that the Tribe had. The four other Stone-Coats that lived as companions to Tribe children dispersed themselves evenly among the crowd in order to act as speakers, while Walking Stone provided the microphone.

"I planned my spirit quest for many months," Mark began, "always in my naive arrogance assuming that I would be doing it myself. But as most of you know, Chief Ed wisely decided that Walking Stone and I would do the quest together."

"It was the logical choice," added Walking Stone. His voice, like that of Mark, emerged loud and clear from all the Stone-Coat companions.

The pair told of their arduous trek across the ice to reach Green Mountain, including Walking Stone falling through the ice and his trampling by Ice Giants, and the attack of the murderous flies on Mark and the fate of poor Red Claw. The unselfish nature of the courageous acts performed by all of the companions was made very clear. Neither Mark nor Walking Stone could have completed the journey to Green Mountain alone.

Mark told of their arrival at Green Mountain and his mounting concern for the wolves when he initially couldn't locate them. Then he told of how shocked he was to discover an injured human intruder at his planned campsite.

Ann joined in the story at that point, providing her perspective. Mark blushed when she described how he took charge of the situation and applied tick and Stone-Coat technologies to her broken leg. The audience laughed when she told them of his fly-fishing episode and their happy discovery of how tasty the flies were.

They listened in stunned silence and nodded in silent approval when Mark described their grim discovery of the decimated wolf-pack and the application of the medical ticks. They oooed and ahhhed at their description of the apocalyptic fly attack and cheered when Mark completed his description of how the creatures were finally defeated by turning them against themselves. That part of the story was sure to become an enduring Tribe legend.

"OF COURSE!" Talking Owl remarked, when she heard how the flies were made to kill themselves. "THIS NEEDS TO BE PASSED ON TO THE SOUTHERN TRIBE IMMEDIATELY."

The story of the return trip to Giants' Rest was anti-climactic. Led by the attentive wolf, nobody fell through the ice even once and on this day there happened to be no new wave of flies.

The story of the spirit quest had been so completely and competently told that there were few questions from the Tribe. There was a lot of murmuring about declaring Mark to be an official Tribe hero sometime soon, which would provide a good excuse for another celebration. There was also a lot of praise for Walking Stone, Ann, and the wolves.

Ed was about to declare an end to the day's formal proceedings when Running Bear rose to voice a final question. "What is to become of Ann?" he asked.

"Excellent question!" said Ed. Running Bear always asked the toughest questions. "I have an idea but want to discuss it among our leaders and with Ann before announcing it officially no sooner than tomorrow. For now I declare this spirit quest event to be complete!"

Runner howled and drums, flutes, rattles and bells erupted at that point, along with cheering, singing, and dancing that would go on long into the night. A supply of strawberry brandy appeared that helped to even further cheer the already jubilant Tribe.

****

### Chapter 18: The Offer

"The bad news is this Ann: you won't be leaving Giants' Rest with your story in the immediate future," Chief Ed announced at the breakfast table the next morning.

It's what Ann expected but the words still stunned her. "According to Mark, I'm officially under arrest." She looked out over the little group that sat with her on the topside Deck eating breakfast. With her sat Ed, Running Bear, Talking Owl, Frank Gray Wolf, Mark, and Ann's ever present canine companion Runner. Mark's father Frank had big a heavy looking briefcase with him, she noticed. Walking Stone stood silently nearby in his parka. They would all witness the confiscation of her photos and videos next, she suspected. She had some rather spectacular videos that would have stunned the world. Then what would happen? She didn't have a clue.

"A temporary status, we hope," said Running Bear.

"You visit us at a very opportune time, Ann," said Ed.

"And we have a very big favor to ask of you," added Talking Owl.

"A monumentally enormous favor," Running Bear emphasized.

"But we'll feed you fresh strawberries while you do it," Mary added.

"We need to go public with the Tribe and the Stone-Coats and we want you to do the story," said Ed. "And we hope that's the good news part."

Ann's jaw dropped open.

"A very extensive written story backed up with video documentation is needed," Ed added. "The whole story; not just some sensationalist little hack job. It will take a lot of work and time for you to get the story together, even after all the background that Mark and Walking Stone have already given you. It might require months of hard work before you are ready to release your full story, for the entire story is far more complex and important than you can imagine. The entire relationship between humans and Stone Coats is at stake, and perhaps the fate of humanity, Stone-Coats, and Jants. There should be world-wide recognition of your work, but pundits and powerful enemies will likely arise. Many will denounce your story as science fiction. Many will reject it on moral and religious grounds. Expect riots and rebellion. Chances are it won't all be fun and glory for any of us."

"But you'll have our full cooperation and support," added Frank. "We will assign several professional staff members to you to support research and videography and whatever else you feel that you need. As data sources there are tons of journals and centuries of Tribe folklore to consider." He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick notebook. "For example this is one of several scholarly journals written by Dr. Richard Tuttle, the first white scientist to study the Tribe and the Stone-Coats. It lays out the basic science of the Stone-Coats and their ten-thousand year history with the Tribe. The history of the Tribe interaction with whites is documented also, including steel work in New York City and the recent diamond trade to get cash. The psychic abilities of Tribe members is also documented."

"Would Mark help?" Ann asked.

"Extensively, we hope," said Talking Owl.

"Along with me, of course," said Walking Stone. "All other Stone-Coats would support your efforts as well," he added. "A video taken from the shoulder of an Ice Giant as it migrates north into Canada would perhaps be both entertaining and instructive."

"Perhaps a camera carried by an eagle would provide a footage also," added Talking Owl. "A march of the Ice Giants from an eagle perspective."

"Well? What do you say?" Ed asked.

"Oh! My! God!" Ann managed. "Are you kidding! Yes, of course!"

Everyone smiled and shook hands with her as Ed exchanged jant-transmitted thoughts with Jerry Green, and Mary placed another huge dish of steaming acorn mush on the table, smothered in maple syrup and fresh strawberries. It was the fresh strawberries that probably sealed the deal, Ed figured.

And that was the end of the beginning for Ann Richards, Tribe and Stone-Coat publicist extraordinaire.

After the meeting, Running Bear congratulated Ed regarding his Chiefly performance for July thus far. "As always your leadership has been superlative, my skin-pigment challenged friend!"

"Thanks Running Bear," Ed told his friend. "Mark did most of the heavy lifting. I simply used a leadership trick called 'delegation' that I learned from you. My other big trick is called 'dumb luck' but I was born with that one. I figure the rest of the month will be a snap, and then you'll be in charge again. I'll have to come up with some nifty issues for you to tackle."

"Oh!" said Running Bear, his face suddenly grim. "That reminds me! There are a couple of new issues you should probably work on now, Ed. A-S-A-P."

"Swell," Ed replied, not at all surprised.

The End (For Now)

****

### About Other Publications by This Author

This is the fourth story in the series Global Warming Fun; as many as ten instalments are expected. If you enjoyed this novella, you may be interested in reading the other short stories and novellas of this series as they gradually emerge. Thus far they have been primarily science fiction in nature, but some series elements with a stronger fantasy orientation are possible. The fifth story will be subtitled "It's A Dry Heat" and feature dry sunny California.

You may also be interested in the already published full-length e-books of this author, including a diverse collection of twenty fantasy and sci-fi short stories titled There Goes The Neighborhood; Earthly Fantasy/Science Fiction Short Stories. Like my novels these short stories range from pure science fiction to pure fantasy, and most take place in contemporary Earth settings.

If you like ancient secrets, magic and science, romance and adventure, science fiction and fantasy, parallel universes and hidden fantasy worlds, try reading the full-length novels Secrets of Goth Mountain (which like much of Global Warming Fun has a Native American setting) and its loosely coupled epic fun-packed sequel Government Men. Government Men has a bit of everything, including the book itself and its thinly disguised author. Yes, oddly enough the book includes itself, along with unicorns, psychics, space aliens, the ghost of Geronimo, impending Armageddon, and much more! For the sake of completeness a kitchen sink was included. Both of these action filled books employ a great deal of science-based fiction, as well as strong doses of fantasy and romance.

Bird loving sci-fi fans that like strong human female heroines and stronger blue jay heroes may (if T-rex sized raptors and other deadly nuisances can be tolerated) enjoy an adventure trip to Aves the bird planet, achieved by reading the traditional science fiction thriller Blue Dawn Jay of Aves. Other than many of my short stories and much of Global Warming Fun, this is my only 'pure science fiction' work to date.

Fantasy noir detective fans that can abide what used to be known by feminists as a 'male chauvinist pig' private detective as a hero, and can also tolerate trolls, elves, and other unexpected visitors to our world along with a talking mob cat, may enjoy The Shrinking Nuts Case. This is my only novel length 'pure fantasy' work to date.

I try to employ some humor in most of my works, particularly in Government Men, The Shrinking Nuts Case, and some of my short stories. I also lean heavily towards positive outcomes, although just as in real life, those don't always happen.

To learn the author's world view (accurate when the book was written and every other Thursday) including thoughts on multiverse and quantum mechanics physics concepts and how that compares with phenomena that occur in the above novels, get geeky with the brief little e-book NOW and the Weltanschauung of Government Men.

All are available at Smashwords and affiliated e-book sites.

Happy reading!

Mechanicsville MD; June 2015

****
