The hills were the color of dry wood. Ral walked to the top of a crest and stood in the cool morning breeze. He breathed in the wild air and smiled.

Far away, and quite oblivious to his presence, he could see two rabbits. They loped across a sandy patch and stopped to nibble something. The sun was still orange, like a flame beginning to catch dry leaves. Soon the glory of dawn would change into the brightness of day and the sky would change to violet.

A sky lark rose into the sky, singing an endless song of praise to summer and to the God of summer. Ral followed it with his eyes, turning his head as the bird lifted itself into the heavens, then he walked on, down the other side of the hill and into the cold shadows of the valley.

Dew-laden grass licked his bare legs, and small insects buzzed about him. He breathed deeply as he walked on. He was happy.

Every fine day, Ral walked the desolate countryside around his mother's cabin. He knew every gully, every hill, every secret stream, but he always returned to her before the middle of the day. Hunger drove him back. Without his mother, he could not eat. She was the only one who could unlock the wire cage which fitted closely to his face. Only she had the key to his muzzle.

It had been fifteen years since Ral and his mother had come to live in these lonely lands. She had come, by herself, so she told him.

"But who is my father?" Ral asked many times.

"I cannot tell you."

"Are there any other people in the lands around us?"

"There are, but they are too far away for you to see."

"I want to see them?"

"No Ral. You must live here, with me. If you were to meet other people, they might harm you."

"What would they do?"

"They would try to change you. Make you something you cannot be."

"I don't understand!?"

Ral's mother would stroke him gently when he said this. Her voice was kind. Ral trusted her, but he was fifteen, and becoming a man. He had a mind of his own. He wanted