« Kirun ! » The sound went out far into the emerging dawn of the Astharie plains. Namely on this day of feast, as the workers had vacation and the farm turned low.

« Kiii-Ruuun ! » Whatever, the crouched figure at the feets of the klumplants seemed not to hear the calling of the child turning around the buildigs there. Bent over the thick leaves, the ucikara hummed a tune oddly discordant.

« Ki-i-run ! » It wasn't really an incatation. There was no magic in the queer canvas of notes she sang. But her fingers found definitely the most beatiful fruits hidden among the greenery, those whose sweet paring and the juicy flesh stayed yet untouched by the harsh light of the day.

« Kirun ! » The child showed up in the furrow, overexited, and stopped abruptly next to the gathering woman. « Where've you been ? Why have you turned your com off ? The rate carried her tune on for a while, failed a pitch – more disharmonious than the others – and suspended gathering and singing with a deep sigh. She stood up slowly and turned herself to the plaguer : « If you've listened to yesterday evenings's talk, when I gave assignments for this day, you wouldn't need to ask, Isnat. » The addessee winced somewhat, sulkily, under her cold glance : « Then, why do you bother yourself ? Klums, there are silos plenty of'em. M'certain the bailiff let you take all you want. Even those for the city. Even if it wern't for the contest. Anyway, everyboddy always does whatever you want. » The last words went along with a small charming smile, the rate hardly preserved her stern look. The little blighter was cheeky, and smart at it. But his words carried some true. Noboddy endavoured to fall out of the cook's favors. The bailiff no more than anyone else. Oddly enough, this never inhibited Isnat to carry on with his fooling, and that even in her kittchen.

Kirun shaked her head and bent herself over the plants again, claming in a voice admitting no protest : The best klums are those gathered at dawn, by hand, listening to the fragmants of dreams still clinging to them. One cannot bake a good klumkake with klums of the previous day, klums from which the daylight withdrawed it's mysteries. That's it. And » she added with a meaningfull look adressed to Isnat « one cannot find good klums if harassed without cease. »

Then, gently, she take up her humming, trying to push her thoughts concerning the boy away. She had no much time left if she had to fill her basket. She focused again on her song looking for resonant lingering sounds in the klums.

Yet Isnat did not left. Worse, he still fidgeted around her. Before she could even find an other fruit, he bursted out full speed : « Cancan called me on my com. The legion alreaddy reached Shelifet ! They've started inspecting everything ! They're wearing the Kelafe's kagnivo emblem ! It's the unit in charge of his protection ! This means he is really comming ! He's comming to the spring festival ! To our district ! Are you aware ? You, have you ever met the kelafé ? I'll show him how brave I can fight ! You think he'll take me in his legion ? 'M not big but I always beat Cancan ! »

Once again Kirun turned her head to the brightening sky. It was too late. She'd to do with the klums she'd alreaddy picked up. She veryfied carefully that her basket was hermetically closed, took it and gave Isnat a sign to take up his way to the farm. « The Kelafe has other business to deal with than that with a lousy child. Some districts complained about his management, so he comes to tell us how happy we should be that it in he, and not someone else of any other kagnivo, whom is in charge of the job. That's all. Concerning the legion, belive me, the farther you stay the better you dwell. » But Isnat didn't listened to her. Armed with his imaginary sword, he pretended to crush invisble ennemies walking ahead.

Kirun followed him lost in her thoughts. Of curse, she will receive a prize for her klumkake. She does so every year. Everyboddy said that she made the best kakes in the district, maybe in all the west of the Khastron. What would be the chance that the Kelafe was member of the jury of the best klumkake of a provincial district ? Or at the award ? As she'd told Isnat, he had other business to mind of than to deal with an ordinary cook however her klumkakes features … Hadn't he ?