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hitching his team now. He should be in Tanana Bay by tonight.”
    Demintieff showed no surprise that the woman had anticipated his news, but simply said, “Thanks, Clodagh. I just wanted to say good-bye. Bunny’s taking my dogs.”
    “Good. Good. Bunny treats them well,” Clodagh said, making no further attempt to comfort him but seeming to share his sadness. She offered neither a look nor a word of false encouragement that he was likely to return: they all knew he probably wouldn’t.
    “This is Major Maddock, Clodagh.”
    “Ah, the dying woman,” Clodagh said. It should have sounded tactless except that her tone was vaguely ironic, indicating that she was only referring to Yana’s own opinion of herself, as if they had already had a long discussion about it. A soft smile and the penetrating gaze of Clodagh’s tilted blue eyes also showed that she meant no offense but simply cut straight to the heart of Yana’s concerns as she had to Demintieff’s.
    “Come, sit, have tea. Charlie’s sister and the rest of the family are on their way. Bunka will bring you to supper tonight, if you’ll come, but right now we have to talk about Charlie.”
    Even as she spoke people began arriving, until the room was crowded with bodies that smelled of wet fur, smoke, and wet dog. Clodagh’s house boasted a big table with four chairs set close to the stove. Yana, still in her parka, was soon stifling from the heat of the stove, but as the room filled up, she had no elbow room to remove her coat. One of the cats jumped up on the table and began sniffing her coat and her face. She let her hand drop to its marbled fur and it purred and took her gesture as an invitation to settle onto her thighs.
    Meanwhile, furs and scarves and quilted fabric brushed by her and she wondered that people didn’t singe themselves on the hot stove as they wished Charlie Demintieff farewell. Yana’s debilitated lungs labored harder as the room filled, the lack of oxygen smothering her. She began deliberately taking deep breaths as first one and then another of Charlie’s friends and distant relations stepped up to crowd around him near the stove, envelop him in a furry hug, and step back away to make room for the next person. Yana couldn’t imagine having so much family.
    Clodagh stood among them, not as tall as some of the men but distinguishing herself by the space around her. Her hair, Yana noticed, was quite beautiful, cloaking her shoulders in shining black waves, the black of a hue that somehow was not too harsh with the woman’s fair skin. Her cheeks were pink with the heat now and she was perspiring freely, glowing like some benevolent sun. She didn’t appear to be as old as Yana, and yet she effortlessly carried an air of the kind of authority generally conferred only by well-seasoned maturity.
    Just as Yana thought she was going to have to fight her way through the crowd for air or black out, people began filing back out the door with last good-byes for Charlie, and suddenly it was the four of them again, Clodagh, Charlie, Bunny, and Yana.
    “We have to hurry,” Bunny told the dejected-looking young officer. “I need to drop the major and get you back.”
    “Okay,” he said.
    Clodagh put something in his hand with a soft pat before he pulled on his mittens. As they were leaving she said, “Major Maddock, will you come to supper tonight with Bunka?”
    Yana nodded and waved, and turned back toward the path between the houses to face four excitedly yapping dogs strapped to a low sled.
    “Climb in, Major,” Bunny said.
    “You’re kidding. There’s not room for all of us.”
    “You ride, and Charlie can drive. I’ll run along beside,” Bunny said, “just as far as your place.”
    Yana looked at the low, insubstantial-looking sled and the four wriggling, whimpering dogs, who were having their pointed red ears and muzzles scratched by a kneeling, sad-faced Charlie Demintieff. Their faces looked more like those of foxes or cats than