She jerked a nod.
Sparrow’s mouth quirked. “You’re certain?”
Tears stung her eyes. “I’m fine, Sparrow.”
“Oh, yes, I can see that.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and slowly led her to a sheltered spot beneath a huge maple. The ceaseless wind coming off the lake had blown this spot clear of snow and dirt, leaving only thick roots and flat pieces of rock. Sparrow lowered her to sit on a wide slab of stone and sank down beside her.
He removed his pack, and tugged on her shoulder straps. Dust shifted to let him pull them from her back. Sparrow set both packs in the roots of the maple.
For a time they sat in silence, their bows on their knees, watching the lake, and enjoying the fact that blood still coursed in their veins. Miracles did happen, but they’d never happened to Dust before. She set her bow aside, leaned back, and stretched out on the rock, staring blindly at the bare branches soaked in moonlight. She took deep breaths just to feel her lungs work.
Sparrow stretched out beside her, placed his bow on top of their packs, and propped himself on his elbows.
She kept looking at the sky, but said, “Sparrow, there’s so much to think about. What are we going to do—”
“Not tonight.”
Dust turned to look at him, and he hesitated just a moment, peering deeply into her eyes, before he bent and kissed her.
His lips moved tenderly against hers. She told herself that she didn’t have the strength to pull away, but, in truth, she didn’t want to. It felt comforting to be kissed again. A warm tingle spread through her body, and all the day’s weariness seemed to fade into the background. Sparrow pulled her against him, and Dust let herself drown in the soothing feel of his arms around her, and the—
He drew back of a sudden, and Dust looked up, frightened. “What?”
He gazed down at her with tears in his eyes.
“I love you,” he said. “I never stopped loving you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She put a hand behind his head, pulled him down, and kissed him again.
As the white veil of his hair tumbled around her, his tears landed warmly on her cheeks.
“I never stopped loving you, either,” she said. “I just didn’t like you very much.”
Sparrow smiled against her lips. “We’ve shared so much, haven’t we?”
The storm rolled over their heads, trailing gray tentacles of snow. Flakes landed silently, sticking in Dust’s eyelashes, and sheathing Sparrow’s hair.
She kissed him harder.
Twenty-Seven
Blue Raven lay on his side at the outskirts of Paint Rock Village, his legs drawn up, his tied hands around the blood-slick arrow that pierced his stomach. The stench of torn intestines rose from the wound. He had seen enough gut shots in his life to know what was inevitable.
Wren sat twenty hands away, her wrists and ankles bound, as his were, with rawhide straps. Her terror-filled eyes had not left him.
Snow had been falling for about a hand of time, coating the branches and the corpses in the village. The faces of the dead had vanished. The burned lodges had transformed into pure white mounds.
Something inside him twisted, like a rope uncoiling, and the pain left him gasping, and clutching weakly at his belly. He knew how it went. Every breath that swelled his lungs squeezed poison into his stomach cavity. But it might take days for him to die.
Involuntarily, he writhed, his back arching, and a scream built at the back of his throat, pressing against his teeth, fighting to get out.
The warriors had laid him down atop an old flint-knapping site, and sharp flakes of stone glittered all around him. He concentrated on them, trying to conquer his own body.
While the warriors went about setting up camp, building fires, throwing out bedding, preparing food, Elk Ivory, Acorn, and Jumping Badger shouted at each other. They stood at the base of a huge oak tree to the south. Blue Raven had to tip his head back to look at them.
Elk Ivory said, “You stupid fool! Frost-in-the-Willows is the new head matron of our village, and you just murdered her only son!”
“The old woman will be glad to have the traitor gone!” Jumping Badger yelled. “And so will everyone else!”
Acorn made a calming gesture with his hands. “Please, screaming does no good. Let us sit down and speak of this quietly. Look. Buckeye has a fire going. Perhaps we can share it.”
But neither Jumping Badger nor Elk Ivory made a move toward Buckeye’s fire. They stood nose to nose glaring at each other.
Blue Raven digested the information. His mother could not have ascended to the position of head matron unless Starflower, Beadfern, and Bogbean were dead. All were older than Frost-in-the-Willows, and better respected. If the clan had been given a more palatable choice, they would not have voted for his mother. Which meant they’d had no choice.