The only good news was that the major fires had been doused … but it had required almost all of their precious water to keep the village from becoming one gigantic fireball.
“Matron?” a wounded warrior called from where he lay on the ground. “Matron, a moment?”
Jigonsaseh knelt at his side. She’d seen Bahna working on his wound earlier. He was one of Sindak’s men. Barely seventeen summers old, with long filthy hair draped around his narrow face in stringy locks, the youth had kind brown eyes. She suspected he had a family back home in Atotarho village. He must be worried about them. “What is it, warrior?”
“I know we have … very little water, but … one sip?” He tipped his head to the pot that rested just out of his reach with a cup over the top, and gazed up at her with a pained expression.
She reached for the pot, poured a small amount into the cup and gently lifted his head to tip the cup to his lips. He drank the three swallows greedily, then sighed, “Thank you, Matron.”
She gently eased his head back to the blanket and reached to return the cup to its place over the water pot.
“Matron?” the warrior asked in an exhausted voice. “I can’t feel my legs. Tell me why?”
She did not hesitate. “The arrow struck close to your lower spine.” His face visibly paled, and she added, “It didn’t sever your spine. Our Healers say you will heal and walk again, perhaps in one moon. Be grateful. You will live to see your family again. Many others lying in the plaza will not.”
His gaze scanned the bodies, arranged in rows, and lingered for a long time on the wounded children and elders who’d stood on the palisade firing their bows until the very last. “I appreciate hearing the truth, Matron.”
She gave him a confident nod. “You fought bravely today. Your service to the alliance will never—”
“Will there be an alliance after tomorrow, Matron? Or will it die with us?”
Jigonsaseh stared into his eyes. Given the severity of his wound, it surprised her that he realized the truth of their situation. She reached down to take his hand in a powerful grip. “No one will forget what we did here today, warrior. What you did here. Our sacrifices will be the glue that will bind the alliance and keep it together for generations.”
He smiled at the absolute certainty in her deep voice. “Thank you, Matron.” When he released her hand, he sank into his blankets to close his eyes as though he couldn’t stay awake for another instant.
Jigonsaseh rose to her feet. The warriors on the catwalks had begun to walk around briskly as their voices rose in pitch. To the east, she saw High Matron Kittle standing between Sindak and Gonda. Gonda leaned heavily on his crutch, trying to relieve the pain in his splinted leg, but he was pointing at something.
She put her head down, and marched to the closest ladder to climb up to the catwalk. As she made her way toward them, warriors buzzed with excited conversation. Out across the old battlefield hundreds of campfire had glimmered to life. Negano was taking no chances. He’d moved his entire army into a ring around Bur Oak Village, bottling them up tight, making certain no one could reach the marsh again. Just out of bowshot, hundreds of Hills warriors paraded around, some shouting. Others waved their arms furiously.
As she walked up, Gonda turned. His round face had a pain-stricken expression. He maneuvered his crutch so he could hobble around to face her. “Something’s going on out there.”
She squinted out across the battlefield. The commotion was spreading through the ranks, men and women stalking around like stiff-legged dogs while they cursed.
Kittle said, “What do you think is happening? It looks like a riot.”
A grim smile turned Sindak’s lips. He laughed softly and looked at Jigonsaseh. Ash coated his lean face. “Saponi did it.” Pride filled his voice. “He did it.”
* * *
“What do you mean all the food is gone! Our warriors are starving!” War Chief Negano shook both fists in face of the warrior hunching before him. Qonde’s hawkish face had a tortured expression, as though he expected Negano to strike him. “What happened to it? When I left before dawn, we had plenty—”
“Negano, it’s not my fault!” Short and stocky, Qonde bravely straightened to his full height and clenched his fists at his sides. Sweat matted his black hair to his cheeks. “After you left, a group of wounded warriors came to me asking to speak with the chief! They said they wished to be useful, and Atotarho told them to reorganize the food stores. They said they were hauling the deer haunches into the forest shadows to keep them cold. It made sense, and the battle had just stared, I was watching—”