I extended my arm and clutched her feather garment.
"Alone?" I whispered.
"Yes. Let me in. I— Where is Tawannears?"
The Seneca's voice came from the darkness at my elbow.
"Tawannears is here, Gahano."
The throb of gladness in it sent my heart leaping into my throat. There were tears in my eyes.
She understood him.
"Tell him," she ordered me, with a tinkle of musical laughter, "my name is Kachina."
"She is Gahano to me," was Tawannears' answer.
I felt her press by me, and a moment later her voice reached me again, strangely muffled.