Koracoo remained hidden behind the tree. The pines whispered in the wind, but she thought she heard something else out there. A voice … or distant music. Singing?
Gonda ducked beneath the ramada again and slumped down in his former position. As the two young warriors trotted up, his eyes narrowed. He looked at them like they were the enemy.
Sindak and Towa crawled beneath the ramada, smiling, glad to see each other, and Towa said, “See, I told you he was coming. Where’s Koracoo?”
“What took you so long?” Gonda asked.
Sindak unslung his bow and quiver and set them in the rear of the shelter; then he sank to the ground and heaved a sigh. “I was followed,” he said. “I had to hide while the warriors passed by.”
“Followed? Did they see you?”
“No.” Sindak shook his head, and his shoulder-length black hair flung water droplets in every direction.
“How many were there?”
“Three, I think. I was afraid to look when they passed by, but it sounded like the steps of three people.”
Towa dipped his own cup beneath the water stream coming off the roof and handed it to Sindak. “Here. You must be thirsty.”
Sindak took it with a grateful smile. “I am. Thanks.” He emptied the cup in four deep swallows and handed it back to Towa. “Where’s Koracoo? I have news.”
Koracoo silently stepped from behind the tree and walked back toward the ramada. The rain had lessened a little. Stars glimmered in the distance. When she got to within five paces, she softly called, “What news?”
Sindak swiveled around to look at her. “I found a trail, War Chief. A clear trail. It was made by three people. They kept climbing into the trees, traveled for a ways, then climbed down and walked on the ground before they retreated to the trees again.”
Gonda said, “It was probably an earlier trail made by the same three people who followed you.”
Sindak sat back at Gonda’s harsh tone. “I suppose it might have been.”
Koracoo knelt just inside the ramada. Towa and Sindak turned to watch her with expectant eyes. Koracoo reached over to the place where she’d drawn the fragments of trail earlier. “This is where your trail started this morning.” She tapped the place. “Show me the one you found today. How did it run? Where did you lose it?”
Sindak bent over the drawing and carefully sketched out what he’d found.
Towa glanced up at her. “Sindak’s trail runs parallel to the one you found, Koracoo.”
“Yes. It seems so.” She squinted at it.
Sindak frowned before asking, “These other lines are trails? You also found trails?”
“We think—”
Gonda interrupted. “Don’t be fools. We’ve lost the trail completely, and we all know it!”
Koracoo didn’t even deign to glance at him. She looked at Sindak. “How far east of here did your trail end?”
“About a half-hand of time. But I—I didn’t lose it, War Chief. I was still on it when I realized I was being followed and had to hide. After that, it was too dark to search any longer, so I ran directly here.”
Koracoo nodded. “You did excellent work today, Sindak. And you, also, Towa. We know a good deal more tonight than we did last night. Tomorrow, we will all fan out and try to follow Sindak’s trail. It seems to be the clearest. We—”
“This is a waste of time!” Gonda snarled.
“I decide when it’s a waste of time, Gonda. Not you.”
He flopped onto his side and turned his back to them.
Towa and Sindak went silent. They both stared questioningly at Koracoo. She said, “I will take first watch tonight. The rest of you should get some sleep.”
As she rose to her feet, grabbed CorpseEye, and stepped out into the light rain, she heard Sindak ask, “What did you find today, Towa?”
“Two dead Flint warriors, and—”
“What killed them? Certainly not two arrows from your bow. You’ve never hit two targets in a row in your life.”
“See? This is why it’s hard to imagine sometimes that you’re my best friend.”
“Of course I am. So, someone other than you killed them. Who?”
Towa made an airy gesture with his hand. “They may have been killed by a Hills warrior. I’m not sure, but I found about fifty tracks made by a Hills warrior near both of the bodies.”
“Really? How do you know he was one of our People?”
“His sandals had our distinctive herringbone weave—”
A cold tingle climbed Koracoo’s spine. She whirled around at exactly the same instant that Gonda lurched to sit up. He had a panicked expression on his face. Drenched black hair stuck to his cheeks.