Now, so far from camp, Tanager ducked to the side, diving under a tall fir. Cricket, gasping and moaning—Snaps Horn's tiny son in her arms—staggered after.
Seeking to still the burning in her lungs, Tanager crept to look back the way they'd come. Nothing moved.
Cricket had sunk gratefully to her knees, her infant wailing softly. Eyes closed in misery, she gasped for breath, trickles of sweat running down her flushed face. "What . . . now?"
Tanager's starved lungs struggled for air. "I don't know. Can't go back."
"But . . . where?"
"I know. Elk Charm's . . . camp. You know ... the way?" Tanager managed between pants.
"Down on the . . . west side. Where the . . . big canyon . . . cuts down to . . . the basin?"
"Yes. Go there. Take any others . . . you find along . . . the way . . . and go there."
"What about you?"
Tanager grinned, feeling the uncertainty in her gut. Her breath was coming back. "Look, you're the one with a child. You've got Snaps Horn for a husband. Me, I'm still free. For all the good it's done, a man's seed might be cast on bare rock as well as inside me."
"Tanager, please. Don't do that to yourself. You're the most beautiful woman in the Red Hand. You can have any man you want for a—"
"Shhh! What's the matter with you? The camp's just been raided and you want to talk about me? Go! Quickly! Make your way to the high trail and cross to the valley west of here. From there all you need to do is follow the streams down."
“What about you?"
Tanager winked at her friend. “I’m sneaking back. Someone has to find out what's happened. My hunting weapons are back there. Besides, Snaps Horn is out with the rest of the men. They need to know where you're going. I'll have to tell people to run to Rattling Hooves and Elk Charm. How else will they know? How will Snaps Horn know?"
Having no other choice, Cricket nodded. “All right. I'll take the baby to Elk Charm's. But ..." She reached out, placing a hand on Tanager's arm.
“But what?"
“Be careful."
“You know me. Not even smoke moves as quietly as Tanager in the timber."
Cricket shook her head. “I know you're a good hunter. I know you'd rather be out roaming around than in a tent. But, Tanager, be careful. I just have a terrible feeling, that's all."
Tanager grinned at her. "Remember, don't stop until you get to Elk Charm's. She'll take care of you."
And she forced herself to her feet, feeling a tingle of excitement as she started back toward the camp, wondering who might have been killed and who might have survived.
Why did she always have to be different? No wonder none of the men she'd coupled with could plant a child in her. She moved around too much for the seed to catch.
She glanced down at the whipcord thinness of her body. Not an ounce of fat padded her firmly muscled flesh. No, she might not have a man's strength, but she had that special balance and speed that gave her a slight advantage. No man among the Red Hand could cast a dart as accurately as she. She had the eye for it, and the talent for the hunt seemed to be inbred—a Power all her own.
Suddenly they were around her again. She couldn't believe they had come so far so fast. She might have been moving like the smoke she bragged about; nevertheless four men leapt out of the trees. She spun like a deer and hesitated for a moment since the only avenue of escape led back to Cricket.
She easily ducked an arm and bolted to the side—too late. Thick arms grabbed her around the middle in a grip that crushed her to the ground.
She struggled, almost breaking free before another grabbed her arm. She twisted, looking up into an unfamiliar enemy face. The man grinned at her, a burning light in his eyes.
Makes Fun bent over her grinding stone, enjoying the feel of the mano clutched in her hand. The muscles of her forearms tensed and rippled with each stroke. The grate-clack, grate-clack of mano and metate sounded a hollow cadence through the shelter as she milled the last of last year's pine nuts into a fine paste. When she found a nut that had dried, she'd use the pecked edge of the mano to smack it flat for grinding.
With deft hands, she scooped up the mush and placed it in a grass basket, reaching for the final handful of unprocessed nuts. With a staccato of raps, she used the mano butt to mash them down before beginning the rhythmic grinding again.
"Hard to believe how much things have changed," Black Crow offered, scratching at his protruding belly. He squinted at the pile of carefully cut rawhide strips separated into three coils before him. Each contributed to the long section of rope he braided for a new elk snare.
Makes Fun nodded, a pinched look to her brow as she concentrated on the grinding. "If I would have had to guess, I'd never have thought the Anit'ah would come seeking you to fight against the People—and never twice in a row."