But he sensed, too, that that idea would take a long, long time to be worked out, to be communicated, to bear fruit.... Qanya's hand pressed his, and she said softly, "I think I know what you mean." On one impulse they turned their backs to the ruins and gazed out across the throng of people, milling happily about, rejoicing, among the grim war-machines that stood open and abandoned on every hand. Near by, a crew of pill-bugs had tapped containers of the special beverage they brewed for their own use, and were inviting all passers-by to pause and drink. "Your people are here somewhere," said Qanya. Her eyes on Dworn were troubled. "Over there to the south, I think I saw some beetles parked. Do you want to visit them?" Dworn sighed. "Your people are here too." "I know." * * * * * Neither of them moved. They stood silent, their thoughts the same; in a little while now, the Peace of the Drone would be over, and all this celebrating crowd would grow warily quiet, would climb back into their various fighting machines, close the hatches and man the guns and creep away in their separate directions. The world would go its way again, a world in which there was no place left for the two of them.... Dworn blotted the image from his mind's eye and bent to kiss Qanya once more, while the Peace lasted. A voice called, "Dworn!" A familiar voice--one that couldn't be real, that must be a trick of his ears. He turned. A little way off stood a small group of people watching them, and in the forefront was a stalwart man of fifty, in the green garment of a beetle with a golden scarab blazoned on his chest-- "_Father!_" Dworn gasped unbelieving. They grasped one another's hands and looked into one another's eyes. Dworn was only dimly aware of the others looking on--among them the hard-faced Spider Mother, and the grizzled chief scorpion whose cohorts had struck the decisive blow in the battle. Yold smiled with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "You thought I was dead, no doubt? You came on the spot where we were attacked and you saw--" Dworn nodded and gulped. "I couldn't have been mistaken. I saw your machine there, wrecked.... And now I've lost mine." His voice trailed off miserably. His father gave him a penetrating look. "I see. You're supposing that means everything is over." "Doesn't it?" The chief smiled again. "When you departed for your wanderyear, you were still a boy, though you'd learned your lessons and your beetle traditions well.... But now you're a man. We don't tell boys everything." Dworn stared at his father, while understanding dawned like a glory upon him. To live again, the life he'd thought lost--