“Yes,” Rivercobble added. “We would, and it would be unforgivable. Even if only one child survived, that baby is frightened, and hungry, and needs us badly right now.”
Moonsnail turned when Floating Stick exhaled hard. The old man had hunched forward, resting his chin on his drawn-up knees. He appeared disheartened, but determined. Moonsnail said, “What are you thinking, Floating Stick?”
He replied, “I was wondering how many warriors we should send ahead. Four tens? Or more?”
Moonsnail’s lips tightened into a bloodless line. She held her comments, waiting to see if anyone would object. When no one did, she asked, “Are we agreed, then? That we should dispatch a war party to seek out survivors and escort them to the new village site?”
Nods went all the way around the circle.
Tailfeather lifted a hand. His jaw moved as he ground his teeth. “May I suggest that we keep at least half our warriors to protect our own clan? Walking with loaded packs and shepherding children is hard enough. Our people should not also have to worry about being vulnerable to enemy raiders.”
Sun Hawk lifted her head, and the sagging wrinkles on her skinny. neck refolded themselves. Her gray hair bore a shimmering net of mist. “This is wise. Shouldn’t two tens of warriors be adequate to protect survivors? Windy Cove did not have many members left before the attack. After it, they will be lucky to have two tens total, and most will probably be women and children.”
“Let us send three tens,” Floating Stick said. His face had gone grim. “At least three tens. That will leave half of our warriors with Heartwood for the journey north, as Tailfeather recommends. We should be safe, and they might need—”
“Three tens is too many,” Rivercobble argued. “Even if two tens survived the attack at Windy Cove, which seems high given their previous numbers, they will not need so many of our warriors as escorts.”
“But I really think—!” Floating Stick began.
Moonsnail cut him off. “Let us compromise. Can we all agree that two-tens-and-five should be sufficient?”
“I could agree with that,” Rivercobble said.
“I also,” Sun Hawk added.
Moonsnail turned to Floating Stick. He looked sullen, as though worried enough to go on the war walk himself, despite the constant ache in his joints. “And you, Floating Stick?” she pressed. “What do you say?”
A somber nod moved his head. “Very well. I wish it could be more, but two-tens-and-five will have to do. We should make certain that our warriors carry enough extra food and fresh water to help our relatives if any of them are injured—which is likely, given the things Dogtooth said.”
“We cannot carry much extra,” Tailfeather cautioned, “or we will be too burdened to fight if—”
“A little extra will not hurt you or your warriors!” Floating Stick snapped.
The anguish in his tone made Moonsnail’s stomach muscles contract. Floating Stick had been on enough war walks in his life to know the desperation of survivors, the terror, the running, and the hiding, the inability to hunt or fish for fear of being seen by pursuers. She could almost see the painful memories reflected on his eyes’ soul. His fists had clenched.
Tailfeather bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Spirit Elder. We will carry whatever amount you believe is necessary.”
Floating Stick gripped Tailfeather by the arm. “Forgive me, War Leader. Your warriors must be free to fight. That is their first duty. But just a little food and water. That’s all. For the sake of the children. They are sure to be hungry.”
Rivercobble said, “Floating Stick is right. For the children. Take extra supplies.”
Sun Hawk nodded and looked to Moonsnail for the final vote. “What do you say, Moonsnail?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she replied. “Now, when should the warriors leave?”
“Now!” Floating Stick blurted. “As soon as they can be ready! The survivors will be desperate.”
Moonsnail saw Rivercobble and Sun Hawk nod in assent, and she said, “Tailfeather, assemble your warriors. Be prepared to leave immediately.”
“Yes, Elder.” He rose, bowed to each of the elders, and left at a trot, disappearing into the waving veils of fog. As Sun Mother climbed higher in the sky, a pale yellow glow was beginning to permeate them.
Floating Stick rose to help Rivercobble and Sun Hawk to their feet. They stood in a small circle gazing seriously at each other, no one saying a word, until Sun Hawk observed, “It may not be wise for us to move our village. Not now. Not after what happened to Windy Cove. We must think more of this.”