Grinning, Starbuck shortened his strides and matched her pace as she cut away from the stream and the undergrowth and headed toward the foothills of the Pocono Mountains in the distance, where plump, juicy rabbits hid behind every blade of grass.
They walked in silence, the man's steps ponderous, the girl's so quick and lithe her bare feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. In an hour they had reached another stream, wider than the first and running deep with swift, cool water. Diane immediately dived in and swam, then continued walking on the other side while Starbuck carefully searched out a ford and splashed across with the water up to his waist. By the time he overtook Diane she was crouching, sitting on her bare heels, the line of her back, damp under the buckskins, a long, graceful curve.
"Take a look at this," she said, and pointed.
Starbuck looked and saw the remains of a camp fire at her feet. "Warm?" he asked.
Diane shook her head. "But not completely cold. Several hours old. Probably made this morning. Probably there's someone nearby."
"So what?"
"So if he's alone he's probably a Shining One and...."
"We have enough people in our camp now."
"You always think competitively, Harry. One more man won't hurt your position in our tribe."