“Where did you think you saw the other man?”
Dekanawida reluctantly released her and turned. He dipped his head, indicating a dense copse of pawpaw saplings to the right of the trail. “Over there.”
They stood side-by-side staring at it, their gazes sweeping the shadows, moving across the moonlit snow.
Gitchi noted their gazes and sniffed the wind, then trotted to stand at Dekanawida’s side.
“I don’t see anything now,” Dekanawida whispered.
“Let’s look for tracks, just to make certain.”
“I’ll go left. You go right.”
“Not a good idea,” she said bluntly. “I have weapons, you don’t. I can’t protect you if we’re widely separated. Come with me.”
Baji led the way, taking a few careful steps at a time, stopping to survey every moonlit shape, then taking a few more steps toward the saplings. As they neared the copse, she noticed the single gigantic pignut hickory that stood behind pawpaws. Twenty times her height, its leafless branches created a dark tracery against the moonlit Cloud People. The egg-shaped nuts had fallen all over the ground. They resembled a bumpy blanket beneath the snow. Dangerous to walk upon, they rolled beneath a warrior’s feet.
“You’re sure this is where you saw him?” she asked. “No warrior with sensibilities would walk here.”
“I know,” he whispered behind her shoulder. “But this is where I saw movement. It might have just been a deer … but it looked human-shaped.”
Baji’s eyes narrowed. She veered right around the copse, glanced down at the ground, then up to scan the forest for the man. As she tiptoed around behind the pawpaws, she saw the fresh tracks.
“Well, there they are,” she murmured.
Gitchi bounded forward to sniff them.
“Just one man,” Dekanawida said.
He slid around her and went to kneel beside Gitchi, examining the tracks, while Baji kept her eyes on the forest. Snow had collected in the crook of the hickory and resembled a white sparkling nest. Against the cobalt background of moon-silvered forest, it seemed unnaturally bright. Deeper in the shadows, white cedars dotted the landscape. Half the height of the hickory, slender, bell-shaped cones hung from their evergreen branches. If she concentrated, she could just smell their sweet scent. Nothing moved out there. Even Wind Woman had fled this part of the forest.
“Baji, come take a look.”
When Dekanawida stood up and heaved a sigh, Gitchi trotted away, suddenly unconcerned, to sniff out a rabbit trail.
Baji worked her way over to Dekanawida, her bow still half-drawn, and glanced down at the clear tracks in the fresh snow. A big man, his feet had sunken deep, but there was something more interesting. As her gaze roved the area, she saw no tracks coming in or going out. It was as though he’d just appeared here, took a few steps, and disappeared into the moonlight.
Baji released the tension on her bow. “Sandal tracks. Herringbone pattern. Hills People.”
Dekanawida’s handsome face relaxed. “But if Shago-niyoh came to see me, why didn’t he stay to speak—”
“He may have come to see me.”
Dekanawida paused. “To see you?”
Baji listened to the night. The distant howling of wolves drifted through the moonlight. “Shago-niyoh visited me on the trail yesterday. Right after the battle.”
Dekanawida didn’t seem to be breathing. “What battle?”
“The day we left Bur Oak Village, we were ambushed by Atotarho’s forces.” A mixture of fear and hatred warmed her breast when she remembered the enemy flooding from the trees. My fault. I am War Chief. I should have seen them long before we entered the valley. How many dead? How many friends … “We lost hundreds in the first few moments. Father was wounded.”
Dekanawida gripped her arm hard. “Is he all right?”
“I—I don’t know.” She rubbed behind her right ear. She’d combed out the caked blood, but the hair remained stiff. The swollen lump had given her an almost unbearable headache that dimmed her wits.
Dekanawida stepped around, pulled the long waves of her black hair aside, and sucked in a breath when he saw the club wound. “Blessed Ancestors, Baji! Why aren’t you in bed somewhere? You should have stopped at the first village to see a Healer. You know better than to ignore a head wound—”
“There’s another killer after you,” she explained.
He backed away slightly. “How do you know?”
“Just before I received this club wound, the man yelled at me: ‘Before I crush your skull, you should know that my brothers are hunting down your filthy lover right now.’”