“More people,” he said, and collapsed again. At last, though, he roused himself and sat up. “More people,” he said, trying to look serious. “Don’t worry, my little Iskra. There will be people. Plenty of people, even for you. Crowded people,” he chuckled. “More than you can count.”
“I can count to a hundred.”
“Not enough,” he said, rising at last to clean the pot and gather up his pack.
“Two hundred,” she said, daring.
“Not enough.”
They set off down the path, the slope now nearly flat, the valleys giving way to broad, flat land that dipped occasionally into marsh.
“I can count to ten hundred,” she said after an hour.
“That’s a thousand, little one. But it’s still not enough. When you can count to a thousand thousand, you may have enough.”
“Not funny,” she said again, serious now, f
