20 The BearpitDURING THE BRIGHT ATERNOON, once the immediate distress of Tharval’s story had dissipated and the narrative itself was spreading like a pestilence, Yauva swung his broom at the door of the Carp and covered a young woman’s shoes with his sweepings.
“Well,” said the bright country voice, “is that all the welcome I’m gettin’?”
Yauva looked up and gaped. Utha’s broad smile shone like a sunrise in his heart. He gaped a moment more, then dropped the broom and folded his awkward arms around the laughing girl. For almost a minute he stood, swaying her from side to side with his cheek to hers, unable to make any other movement save tighten his hug. Eyes screwed shut, lips tight together, he lavished every mote of his awareness on the feel of that wonderful rounded body. A tear escap
