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People of the Longhouse(40)

By:W. Michael Gear


He clenched his fists, gave her a distasteful glance, and then did as she’d instructed.

Koracoo explained, “Sindak, once we get the fire built, it will be warmer sleeping among the leaves than out in the open. If you and Towa will gather some dry branches, we’ll cook something to warm our bellies; then we’ll rise before dawn. That means we don’t have much time to rest.”

Sindak muttered something Gonda couldn’t hear, but it sounded mutinous. Gonda glowered, and Sindak took a threatening step toward him.

“Enough,” Koracoo ordered in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

Towa quickly grabbed Sindak’s arm. To Koracoo, he said, “We will gather wood, War Chief.”

As he and Sindak wandered away and started collecting wood, Koracoo watched them. They moved through the oaks, breaking the dry lower branches from the trees, casting glances at Koracoo and Gonda. “They’re curious, aren’t they?” she asked.

“Curious? I think they’re both simpletons. We should send them home before they get us killed.”

Koracoo kept her eyes on the young men, studying them. “They are careless. At least Sindak is. I thought for a moment he might try to take you.”

“That would have been a fatal error.”

“It would also have been your fault. You seem determined to split our party in two. Stop it. We all have to be on the same side.”

Anger rose hotly in his veins. In a hushed voice, he said, “They are Hills People, Koracoo. They don’t know what our side is! They are our enemies. Do you really think they want to help us rescue our children?”

Her expression turned to stone. “I am always prepared for the worst, Gonda. But until they demonstrate they are not on our side, I plan to treat them as though they are.”

“Well, that’s foolish. They probably have secret orders to kill us and our children as soon as they have Zateri.”

“They may, indeed.” She tucked a lock of wind-whipped black hair behind her ear. “But given their inexperience as warriors, I doubt they can accomplish it. And our best defense against treachery is to try and befriend them.”

“Befriend them? Are you joking?”

“We will be traveling together for many days, Gonda. Perhaps, moons. It will not help us if you are constantly antagonizing them. I won’t tolerate it.”

He felt like he was about to explode. To ease some of his tension, Gonda dug into the leaves with a vengeance, scooping armfuls away and piling them to the side. He needed to clear a swath of ground large enough for three people to sleep. One person would always be on guard. Through gritted teeth, he finally said, “I will do as you ask, Koracoo.”

“Thank you.”

When he’d scooped enough armfuls away to reveal a broad circle of bare earth, his anger had faded. He sank down and slipped his pack from his shoulders.

Koracoo unslung her pack, as well. While she rummaged around inside, pulling out sacks of jerky, cornmeal, and dried onion, Gonda fought the overwhelming sensation of despair that descended over him like a black fog. His heart was beating a slow, dull rhythm against his ribs.

He removed the small stone pot where he kept coals from the morning fire. “By the way,” he said, trying to lighten the darkness, “if these are the two best warriors Atotarho has, we need to attack the Hills People immediately. We should be able to conquer the whole nation in a few days.”

She smiled faintly. “I’ll consider it. After we’ve found the children.”

Gonda removed the stopper from his pot and dumped the coals on the ground, then began carefully selecting the driest leaves he could find and piling them over the coals.

Koracoo’s smile faded, and her gaze returned to Sindak and Towa, who were cracking off dead branches while they murmured to each other. She shook her head lightly. “I can’t figure it out, but there’s more here than is apparent, Gonda.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need to think about it for a time. By morning, I’ll have pieced it together better.”

Koracoo pulled her boiling bag and tripod from her pack. The tripod, three long sticks tied at the top, stood five hands tall. She spread the tripod’s legs, then suspended her boiling bag in the center and tied the laces to the top of the tripod.

“I still have a full water bag,” Gonda said. He removed it from his belt and handed it to her.

Koracoo loosened the laces, tipped it up, and poured the water into the boiling bag. “That should make enough soup to feed us tonight and tomorrow morning.”

As Koracoo started crumbling venison jerky into the boiling bag, Gonda bent down to blow on the leaf-covered coals. The longer he blew, the brighter the glow became until the scent of smoke rose. It took several moments before the leaves caught and flames flickered. Gonda added more dry leaves to keep the small blaze going.