People of the Longhouse(71)

“Yes.”

Sindak was looking at him expectantly, as though the truth should be obvious.

“So,” Gonda said, “you think someone climbed up here using the limbs as a ladder?”

Sindak pointed to the place twenty hands above them where the massive limbs of two trees met. “Right there, where the limbs overlap, it looks like the climber stepped from this tree to the next one. And if you’ll look over there”—he pointed to a place where the limbs of the next tree overlapped with a tree farther north—“you’ll see that he could have moved to yet another tree.”

Gonda let his gaze scan the oaks. With careful planning, a man could go a long way climbing from one tree to the next. And if he did it often, he could do it relatively quickly.

“They … they’re climbing through the trees? Is that why we keep losing the trail?”

Sindak nodded. “It might be. I have noticed that every time we lose it we are surrounded by giant hickories, or oaks, or other big trees with spreading limbs. That’s what made me start looking closely at the trunks. I wanted to see if I could spot scars left by feet.”

Hope flooded Gonda’s veins, and without thinking, he slapped Sindak on the shoulder approvingly. “You are a good tracker, Sindak. Just the way Towa said. Let’s tell the others.”

They climbed down.

Before they’d even jumped to the ground, Koracoo called, “Well? What did you find?”

Gonda said, “Sindak is right. There are scars all the way up the trunk. Someone has been using the trees, climbing through the branches, moving from tree to tree.”

“We can’t be certain, of course,” Sindak said, “that this is the trail we seek, but it’s a trail.”

Koracoo’s gaze shot upward and darted over the limbs, moving, as the climbers must have, from one heavy limb to another to another. It would have been even easier for children. They were lighter and could have used more of the forest canopy to travel. “This changes everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Gonda nodded at her, then said to Towa, “Earlier, Koracoo and I were talking. Koracoo said that instead of paralleling the trails, we should cut across them, moving from north to south, searching for sign. But now that we know they are using the trees—”

Towa interrupted. “Wait. Are you suggesting that the warriors are … are each walking different trails? That’s why you want to cut for sign from north to south?”

“We think it’s possible.”

Sindak rubbed a hand over his face as though stunned by the realization. “Of course they are. That’s how they do it. If each warrior takes one or two children and picks his own route, he can climb over rocks, wade rivers or ponds, climb through the trees. That’s why the sign is so confusing.”

Towa seemed to be putting all the pieces together, and not liking what he saw. His expression became a grimace. “If this is true, their trails may be spread out over a vast area of forest. It’s going to take forever—”

“That’s why no one has ever been able to track Gannajero.” Koracoo was gazing out into the depths of the forest, but thoughts moved behind her dark eyes. “Time. The trails seem to go in different directions. They start and stop, or vanish altogether. It takes so much time to unravel them that people give up.”

“If only we had another fifty warriors,” Towa said, “we might be able to do it. But without them? I don’t know.”

Frustration was building. Gonda could feel it in the air. The task suddenly seemed overwhelming. Despair lined Towa’s young face, and Sindak looked angry.

Gonda said, “We don’t need fifty warriors.”

“Why not?” Towa raised his voice. “How can four people accomplish anything? I—”

“Listen to Gonda,” Koracoo said. She was watching Gonda, waiting to see what he was doing before she interfered. It was the way they’d always operated. They worked as a team to get their warriors to figure out the problem.

Gonda continued, “You were right in the beginning, Towa. We need to spread out so that we can cover more territory. We’ll arrange a place to meet at night; then over supper we’ll discuss what each of us has found, and pick which trail to pursue the next morning. We’ll follow it until it disappears. When it does, we’ll return to cutting north-south again.”

“It seems like we’re grasping for—”

“Towa.” Koracoo put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to peer into the dark depths of her eyes. He looked faintly mesmerized. “Think this through. If you were arranging such a ruse, how would you do it?”