People of the Longhouse(57)

Gonda stared at Towa with his jaw clenched.

Towa seemed to be worried about how to phrase it. “Men make mistakes in the heat of battle. Koracoo knows this better than anyone. So, my question is, why doesn’t she believe it was a mistake? Earlier, she called you ‘arrogant.’ Does she think you deliberately defied her orders?”

Gonda’s nostrils quivered. “I would very much like to know the answer to that question.” He rose unsteadily to his feet, wiped out his cup, and said, “If she ever tells you, let me know.” Then he tramped away.

Sindak watched him roll up in his cape and prop his head on his pack. Just before he closed his eyes, he grabbed his war club and dragged it close.

A powerful gust of wind blasted the forest, and a branch broke in the fire. The scattering sparks threaded Towa’s handsome face with crimson light. Sindak studied his taut expression.

Quietly, so Gonda could not hear, Sindak said, “I’m surprised he told you as much as he did.”

“I’m not. Gonda’s been desperate to discuss this with someone. The guilt is eating him alive.”

Sindak considered that. His grandmother had once told him to make carelessness his enemy and righteousness his armor, because guilt was like a very dull blade; it could kill, but it took a long time and the pain was excruciating. “I can’t wait to hear Koracoo’s side of the story.”

Towa gave him an askance look. “Hear it? Never, my friend.”

“No?”

“Why would she tell you?”

“How many friends does she have out here to talk to?”

Towa’s brows lowered. Barely audible, he warned, “You’re going to get yourself killed trying to ‘befriend’ her.”

In the shadows on the other side of the tree trunk, he could just make out Koracoo’s face. It had a pale gleam. Bluntly chopped-off locks of black hair fell over her cheeks. He thought her eyes might be open. Was she watching them? Trying to hear their discussion?

Towa followed his gaze and softly said, “Even if you ‘befriend’ her, she won’t tell you. She would consider it a sign of weakness.”

Sindak drew his knees up and locked his arms around them. “As would I.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. Any man who needs to discuss his feelings is a coward.”

“That’s silly.” Towa kicked at the woodpile. “Do you recall when you told me that I thought much as Koracoo did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t. But you do. Keep that in mind.”

Towa set his empty cup beside the fire pit, rose, and walked over to stretch out near Gonda.

Sindak’s gaze returned to Koracoo. He swore she was watching him. Firelight reflected in her open eyes. He just couldn’t be certain if she was looking at him, or out into the forest. His gaze drifted to the trees, where wind-thrashed limbs created such a noise an entire war party could be upon them before they heard a whisper of moccasins on the leaf mat. Stealthily, his right hand lowered to the war club tucked into his belt.

Koracoo gave him one last look, then closed her eyes.

Sindak finished his soup and crawled to the edge of the pine boughs to keep watch on the trails.





Twenty-three

Sometime around midnight, a groan woke Koracoo. She rolled to her side and looked at Gonda. He’d been making soft agonized sounds for over a hand of time—fighting the battle again. She had seen him do this same thing for thirteen summers. After every battle, she spent six or seven days refighting it in her dreams. Gonda spent moons.

Her gaze shifted to Sindak. He was no longer sitting beneath the pine where the flames could blind him to the night, but had moved to stand outside, facing east, looking up the trail. The sleet had stopped, leaving the deep blue sky clear. As the icy breeze gusted through the trees, Sindak’s buckskin cape billowed around his broad shoulders. Though he clutched his war club, he also carried his slung bow and quiver.

Gonda made a sound like a suppressed scream.

Sindak glanced back over his shoulder, shook his head, and went back to watching the trails.

Koracoo stared out past Sindak to the stars visible just over the treetops. They glittered as though silver flames burned in their hearts. Where are you, Mother? Are you alive or dead?

Her mother’s half-dead eyes seemed to be branded on her souls—always there, always pleading for help. She’d found Mother lying in the charred remains of their longhouse with Koracoo’s sister, Tawi, beside her. For the rest of Koracoo’s life she would wonder whether or not Tawi had been trying to pull their mother to safety when the burning wall had collapsed on top of them.

Koracoo rested CorpseEye across her chest and put her hands on either side of her head, pressing hard, endeavoring to force some sense into her worry-laced soul. She felt like a sleepwalker, just going through the motions of life, not really here.