People of the Longhouse(96)

I swallow hard and say, “Why haven’t you already run? You should be gone!”

“I couldn’t leave you here by yourself, Odion. Now, let’s—”

Frantically, I grab his arm and say, “Where’s Tutelo? Is she—”

“Right after I killed Tenshu, I told Baji to take her and run. She said to tell you she loves you. She should be far away by now, which is where you and I need to be.”

I stare dumbly at him. “But where …”

Over Wrass’ shoulder, I see Kotin suddenly look toward the clearing where we’d been sitting. Confusion lines his face. He says something to Gannajero, who waves him away and continues haggling for the new children while Kotin stalks toward the clearing.

“Wrass?” I hiss. “Kotin … he’s …”

Wrass swings around to follow my gaze, sees Kotin, and orders, “Odion, move! Start walking; don’t run.”

“You lead. You—you lead, Wrass, please?”

Wrass moves past me and heads out into the dark trees, following a deer trail. I try to stay no more than one pace behind him, but his legs are longer than mine. I have to half-run to keep up. Wrass is breathing hard, and he’s put one hand to his head, as though he’s sick, but he moves swiftly along the trail, winding between enormous chestnuts and pines that seem to pierce the smoky belly of Brother Sky.

Behind us, I hear Kotin let out a sharp cry; then he shouts, “Tenshu’s dead! The children have escaped! Waswan? Gather four of our new men and get over here!”

Neither of us turns around. Wrass walks until we’re out of sight of the camp; then he starts running. We lunge down the trail, panting, scrambling through a thicket of nannyberry shrubs, running with all the strength in our bodies. Ahead of us, a scrubby grove of prickly ash trees stands out like a cluster of spikes. Old autumn leaves have blown around the bases of the trees and created a pile ten hands deep and forty hands across.

Within moments, feet pound behind us, the heavy steps like a staccato of arrows thumping a longhouse wall, coming up the deer trail.

Wrass casts a glance over his shoulder and stops dead in the trail.

“What are you doing?” I cry in terror. “Keep running!”

Wrass grabs my hand, places the war club in it, then hisses in my face, “Hide in those leaves, Odion. If they find you, swing the club as hard as you can, and don’t stop swinging. No matter what you hear or see, keep swinging. Do you hear me? I’m going to lead them away. I’ll meet you at the fire cherry camp at dawn.”

“But Wrass, I’m scared. I want to go with you! Let me—”

He growls, “I told you to hide. Now do it!” Wrass shoves me hard in the direction of the prickly ashes, and he breaks into a run.

I careen forward, stumble into the spiky trunks, and bury myself in the deep leaves.

I hear shouts. Men calling to each other.

The pungent scent of the moldering leaves surrounds me. I try not to breathe, or move. I see nothing. Pitch darkness. The leaves rustle softly when I blink my eyes. I should close them … but I can’t. I must keep watch, even if only on the blackness.

“The filthy brats!” Kotin snarls. His feet bang against the trail. As he approaches my hiding place, I feel his steps in my bones. I tighten my grip on the war club. Another man runs behind him. His steps are lighter, more like a dancer’s. “I wager it was that older boy, the one with the hawk face. I knew he was going to be a problem.”

“He killed one of your best warriors, Kotin. He’s no longer a boy. He’s a man,” Waswan said.

“In just a few moments, he’s going to be a dead man.”

“He’s Gannajero’s property. I’d think hard about that.”

“Well, come on!” Kotin growls. “He’s injured. He can’t be that far ahead of us. Gannajero will flay our skin from our bodies if we don’t catch them.”

“She’ll really miss the two girls. You’d better hope that new group of Mountain warriors finds them.”

Their steps pound away up the trail, heading in the same direction as Wrass.

Relief makes me weak. Breath escapes my lungs in a rush, and the leaves crackle and resettle over my face.

Please, gods, let Tutelo and Baji get away! Let Wrass escape!

Painful, horrifying images of Yellowtail Village, burning, flash behind my eyes: people running … screams … flaming arrows arcing through the sky as I clutch Tutelo’s hand and duck through the hole in the palisade wall to emerge in a big group of children and elders … then the mad rush into the forest, tripping, falling, Tutelo shrieks … warriors all around … nowhere to—