She stared at him for a long moment. He saw, peering closely, that her eyes were liquid with tears. "Are you sorry you came?" he asked, not knowing until the words were out what he was saying. "Would you go back?" She seemed to gather strength for her reply, drawing from a worn, thin body a surprising vigor. Her eyes shone. "Never!" she cried. He lay beside her on the ground near the fire and folded her into his arms. "Nor I," he said. When, some time later, the fire began to die, the two figures bundled together before it did not stir. The fire slowly darkened, its orange glow turning to gray ash, and then to black, obscuring the last feeble flicker.... 15 Epilogue _So few of them survived, the hunter reflected. So few lasted long enough to be found. And of those who did, few were able to adapt to the rigors of the new life._ _But the survivors were strong. The tribe was growing stronger all the time, larger and stronger and more skilled. While those in the cities were growing weaker._ _Time, he thought, is on our side._ _For a moment longer he gazed thoughtfully down at the two prone, wasted figures. The branches of a gnarled, twisted tree reached almost over their shelter. Absently, the hunter probed with his hand into one of the low-hanging branches to pluck one of the round fruits concealed among the waxen leaves. With strong white teeth he bit through the outer skin and sucked up the delicious juice. He scraped out all of the nourishing pulp with his teeth. When he had finished he tore the rubbery skin into strips and placed these in a pouch at his waist, except for one piece which he kept in his mouth to chew on._ _Using a blanket, he repeated his earlier smoke signals, alternately smothering and exposing the fire he had raised on the coals of the old one. He worked patiently, whistling softly through his teeth._ _The woman must have been very pretty, he mused._ _The curling puffs of smoke climbed into the bright morning sky and scattered slowly before the wind. After several minutes the hunter desisted._ _From a leather gourd he poured water into a crude, hand-shaped cup. He knelt beside the two strangers and, for the second time since his arrival, forced a little water between their cracked lips. The man was breathing well now, he noted. The woman had been much weaker, her heartbeat almost imperceptible. But with care she would live._ _They had come a long way, he thought. The man, stronger, could have continued. That was important. Love and loyalty were always important. These two would be valuable additions to the tribe. And from them would come another generation, born to freedom, stronger and more adaptable than their parents. It was a pleasure to watch the children cope with the new world so easily, so naturally...._