Sindak turned to Kittle with an expression of guarded annoyance. “High Matron, if I may, I’d like to…”
A roar went up from the catwalk and warriors began running just as screams erupted outside.
Kittle said, “What…”
Litter bearers and mourners shoved one another as they scrambled to make it back inside the palisade gates ahead of a hail of falling arrows.
“I’m a fool!” Gonda cursed himself, and yelled, “Move! They’re shooting from Yellowtail Village!”
As though part of a synchronized dance, Jigonsaseh, Gonda, and Sindak drew their war clubs simultaneously and ran to defend the gates.
Twenty
Before Baji opened her eyes, she was conscious of the slight steady rhythm of Sky Messenger’s breathing and the feel of his ribs pressed against her back. His arms were around her, holding her.
A sensation of contentment possessed her.
When the morning breeze eddied, crackles sounded two paces away, and cedar smoke, rich and sweet, filled the air. Sky Messenger must have carried her to a bed beside the fire—though she didn’t remember—and added branches throughout the night to keep her warm.
She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The almost soundless shift of paws told her that Gitchi sat on his haunches nearby, his yellow eyes on the forest, guarding them, as he had always done.
When she opened her eyes and smiled at the old white-faced wolf, Gitchi’s tail thumped the ground. He leaned down, licked her forehead, and vigilantly took up his duties again, glancing only briefly at the falcons that wheeled in the sky.
Sunlight streamed through the deep brown hickory branches above her. Where it landed, the forest floor steamed. Already much of yesterday’s snow had melted into shining pools. Had they slept so long? It must be at least two hands of time past dawn.
Gently, so as not to wake Sky Messenger, she tilted her head to look out across the vista. They slept upon a rocky high point overlooking a broad river valley. The largest boulders below appeared tiny and distant, like the dream of her own death that had tormented her for half the night … falling, with him, bright light, can’t get air …
For a while, as the forest became luminescent, she lay there in Sky Messenger’s warm arms, watching the bone-white winter light being born—light licked clean by the invisible Spirit predators that hunted the rolling land.
She eased one hand up to touch her head wound. The swelling had diminished by half, but pain continued to throb through her skull.
Sky Messenger must have felt her move. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her slender body more securely against his, and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“Better today. I … for the past few days … I’ve been waking … with my heart thundering and I wonder if my heart is bursting … or if I’m just dying of loneliness.”
She rolled to her back to look at him. Every line of his round face told her how much he cherished waking this way. His brown eyes shone. A small fragile smile turned his lips, as though he was afraid to be happy, for fear that she would vanish. Last summer, during the brief alliance between the Flint and Standing Stone nations, they’d awakened this way every morning.
“I’m here, Baji. You’re not alone now.”
He tenderly pressed his lips to hers, then pulled aside the wealth of her long hair and studied the wound behind her right ear. “The wound looks better. Thank the Spirits you’re a fighter. Last night, I was giving you poor odds.”
“Fortunately, no one who knows me would ever count me out.”
He smiled. “True. However, we must be careful. I don’t think we should run the trail for a few days. Walking will be good enough until you’re feeling stronger.”
“I thought you were in a hurry to get to the country of the People of the Landing?”
“That was before I knew you were hurt.”
The statement worried her. She did not wish, in any way, to detain or sway him from his mission. If coming here had …
He sat up and looked down, just staring into her eyes, as though what he saw there went straight to his heart. The blanket coiled around his waist. Like all warriors on the war trail, he’d slept in his cape. It hung crookedly about him.
Baji touched his short black hair. “Did you cut it for Tutelo’s husband?”
It was dangerous to say the name of the dead too soon after they’d been lost, or it might draw their souls back to earth, and they’d never again be able to find their way to the afterlife.
“He was a good man.”
“I’m sure he was. Tutelo wouldn’t have loved him otherwise.”
Sky Messenger petted the long waves of her hair that spread over the blanket. “I’ll build up the fire and get breakfast made. Why don’t you lie here and stay warm.”