Sindak’s breathing went shallow.
The howls of hunting wolves echoed through the trees as the steps moved, almost silently, up the trail less than fifty paces away. Then he heard a strange rattle. Branches clattering together in the breeze? An odor he knew only too well wafted to him: the stink of rotting flesh.
A shiver climbed Sindak’s spine.
To make matters worse, there was only one set of footsteps now. Where were the others? Had they split up? Maybe they’d spotted him and two of the warriors were sneaking around through the trees, hoping to surprise him.
Frantically, he searched every place a warrior might appear. The storm light made the brush and rocks look like crouching beasts. He gripped his war club in both hands.
The steps moved past him, heading up the trail with catlike grace. Barely there. Just one man, but clearly a man who had lived too long with death to ever be careless.
The man’s cape slurred softly over the ground, and Sindak thought he heard weeping—but it might have been the wind through the branches.
Sindak waited for the rest of the war party he was certain would be coming.
The whisper of the man’s steps eventually died away.
Sindak boldly chanced looking around the tree, out into the twilit stillness where rain sheeted from the sky and created shining puddles in every hollow. He saw no warriors.
After another quarter-hand of time, Sindak risked stepping from behind the hickory. Darkness had taken hold of the world. He flipped up the hood of his cape, quietly walked out onto the trail, and ran north toward Hawk Moth Village as fast as his legs would carry him.
Thirty-one
While they waited, Gonda, Koracoo, and Towa gathered pine poles and created a makeshift ramada beneath a canoe birch. Covered with a mixture of pine boughs and moss, it was mostly dry underneath.
“Where is Sindak?” Gonda grumbled as he crawled under the ramada and sat down cross-legged.
“I’m sure he’s coming.” Miserable and wet to the bone, Koracoo sat in the rear hunched over a cup of rainwater. This close to Hawk Moth Village, they couldn’t light a fire for warmth or to cook food for fear that they’d be seen.
Gonda said, “I say we forget about him and go to sleep.”
“Let’s give him a little longer.” Koracoo leaned back against the birch trunk.
“He’s irresponsible,” Gonda said. “He should have been here two hands of time ago.”
As soon as he’d said the word irresponsible, brief, agonizing images of Yellowtail Village flitted across Koracoo’s souls. She forced them away. How strange that she felt nothing now—nothing except a weariness that weighted her limbs like granite and a hunger that made her knees tremble. Even her anger was gone, replaced by a lassitude in which all things seemed vaguely unreal.
She stared out at the growing darkness.
“Something must have happened,” Towa replied from her left, where he stood against the shelter pole. “He wouldn’t be late unless something had happened.”
“You’d better be right. If he wanders in here with no wounds, I’m liable to give him some,” Gonda replied.
Towa’s mouth quirked, but he obviously knew better than to say anything. He glanced unhappily at Koracoo, who just shook her head lightly and looked away. From the corner of her eyes, she studied Gonda. He restlessly twisted his cup in his hands. His hair and clothing were soaked, and he looked to be on the verge of an enraged fit. Rage was his way of dealing with fear. Perhaps it was the way every warrior dealt with fear, but she pitied him. She saw it now with sudden clarity. She had never pitied him before. He had always been the strength in her heart, and the warmth in her souls. When had he become so weak and frightened? She wondered if maybe Sindak hadn’t been right after all, that she shouldn’t have brought him along.
No, despite everything, he deserves to search for his own children, to know for certain that he’s done all he can to find them. I owe him at least that much.
Gonda took a sip of water and glared out at the rain.
Koracoo refilled her cup from a thin stream that ran off the roof, and took a long drink. When Sindak arrived, if he arrived, they would discuss what each person had found and make their decisions about what to do tomorrow. The rain was going to make things much harder for them. They needed a good plan and as much rest as they could get.
Towa picked up one of the brown twigs that littered the ground and toyed with it, tapping it on his palm. “Maybe he found the trail. Did you think of that? Maybe Sindak found it and followed it for as long as he could before he lost the light.”
“I hope so. That’s the only thing that will save him from my wrath.” Gonda tugged his hood down over his forehead and clutched it beneath his chin. “Since none of us found anything significant today, what are we going to do tomorrow?” he asked belligerently.