“After five days the pool was so shallow that even little Annad, que was only five years old, could touch the bottom with her hand without getting her sleeve wet. And still the stream failed to flow. On the evening of the sixth day the worried people met in the market square to tall. “The bukshah could drink at all today, ” said Lann, the oldest person in the village and once the greatest fighter. ‘If we do not act soon, they will die’.”
“Rowan knew, as Annad did not, that without the bukshah there would be not rich, creamy milk to drink, no cheese, curd, and butter to eat. There would be no tick gray wood for cloth.There would be no help to plow the fields or carry in the harvest. There would be no broad backs to bear the burden on the long journeys down to the coast to trade with the clever, silent Maris fold. The life of Rind dependen on the bukshah. Without them, the village, too, would die.”
“Annad could not imagine the valley without the village. But Roawn could. Reading the old stories in the house of books, listening half asleep to Timon under the teaching tree, and most of all, sitting on the grass by the stream while the bukshah grazed around him in the silence of the morning, he had often imagined this place as the first settler must have seen it.”