The two words sat in the morning air.
"What," she said.
This 'what' was the third 'what'. All three 'whats' had different qualities: the first was confusion, the second was rechecking, the third was the specific, flat, present 'what' of a Chief of a Void Return tribe who had just been told she was being collected as one item in a set.
"How would I—" She breathed. His fingers were still moving. Her body was still filing its own comprehensive report regardless of the brain's current state. "How would I leave my tribe."
He looked at the compound.
At the twenty-five women in the line.
At the five-day warm grass.
At the cedar walls.
At the gate.
He said: "Enter the realm I want you to."
She looked at him over her shoulder.
The specific, present, over-shoulder look of a woman who had heard something and was looking at the person who said it with the flat, present, what-does-that-mean expression of someone expecting elaboration.
He reached into the system.
