Tarlac hadn't known the vehicles were equipped with comsets, but it wasn't too surprising. "Thanks, ruhar."
"My honor," the other replied, turning his attention to the control panel.
Less than half a kilometer later, a dozen more Ch'kara cars had come to escort him, holding at shoulder height like the first and moving at his walking speed. He hadn't expected that, and couldn't think why not. Of course his family would come to meet him, to join him for his successful return home. He had to make it to the clanhome under his own power, but there was no reason he couldn't have company for the easy last stretch.
Hovan jumped from one of the cars ahead of him and waited for Tarlac to reach him. Tarlac stopped when he did, to let his sponsor inspect him.
Steve looked remarkably good, Hovan decided, for someone who had just spent most of a tenday in the wilderness. He'd lost no more than a kilo or two, and though there were some small red spots on his skin, he had no apparent injuries. Low rawhide boots protected his feet, and he carried two pouches and an efficient-looking, if crude, spear. "A pleasant walk, ruhar?"
"Not bad at all," Tarlac replied. "In fact, it was a lot easier than I expected, after everything you said." They were out-clan; Tarlac knew better that to indulge the impulse that seemed so natural now, to hug his sponsor. There would be time for that, and for other things, when they reached home. Impatient, he started walking again.
Hovan fell in beside him. "That seems only fair," he said, his tone amused. "You did have considerable difficulty with the first part of the Ordeal, the one which brings most candidates nothing but joy."
"I wouldn't go quite that far about this excursion," Tarlac said. "Those bugs were murder."
"Bugs?" Hovan asked curiously.
"Insects," the Ranger said with emphasis, thinking that he'd have liked to be able to use claws on this subject. "Whatever you call those two-centimeter substitutes for mosquitoes. I think I'd almost rather have faced a derybach—they only come at you one at a time, and if one ate me for dinner I wouldn't be around to mind it afterward." He paused, assessing Hovan's reaction to the half-teasing complaint. Hovan was looking puzzled. "Those damn bugs ate on me for six days straight! And their bites itch worse than rapid-heal. You could've warned me, you know."