People of the Masks(158)

Rides-the-Bear folded his arms over the chest of his dirty buckskin cape. “I would say ten, War Leader. They had no more than twenty to begin with, and I killed three myself.”

“Yes,” Jumping Badger said proudly. “You are a fighter. As is every warrior in your longhouse. If Mossybill or Skullcap were here, they would want to run to Sleeping Mist as soon as possible. To get this over and done with so we could go home to our families.”

Elk Ivory lifted a brow. “That’s why they’re dead. Neither one of them had the judgment Falling Woman gave a mosquito.”

Rides-the-Bear shoved forward with his fists clenched, as if to fight Elk Ivory … until Buckeye stepped alongside her, and drew his stiletto. His massive shoulders rippled with muscles, and his gaze turned deadly.

Rides-the-Bear stopped, took a breath, and stabbed a finger at her. “When this is over, I will settle with you for your insults, old woman.”

Elk Ivory looked at him blandly. “Look around you. All of you! We are at each other’s throats. We are tired, and disheartened over the news about our families. Do you think this is the time to rush into battle? Of course not! We need to rest, and consider how to proceed!”

Acorn dragged Wren up behind Elk Ivory, and said, “What harm could it do to spend a few moments talking?”

Wren sank to the sand at Acorn’s feet, and tilted her head to peer up at Elk Ivory. Until yesterday, she had never understood why Uncle Blue Raven had once loved her so much.

Elk Ivory cares about people. She understands their souls. As Uncle did. She should be war leader.

As Wren looked around the circle, she could see the same thought on the faces of many of the warriors. Jumping Badger apparently saw the same thing. His teeth ground beneath the thin veneer of sunburned skin.

Jumping Badger lifted his staff, and called, “Let us cast our voices! Who wishes to come with me to fight the cowards in Sleeping Mist Village who are protecting the False Face Child? Who wishes to help me kill the False Face Child?”

“We don’t know they’re protecting—” Elk Ivory began.

Jumping Badger shouted her down. “Who will follow me? Which of you is still loyal to the orders of the Walksalong matrons?”

Wren watched as men dropped their heads, shuffled anxiously, then walked like kicked dogs to stand behind Jumping Badger. But several also walked to stand behind Elk Ivory.

After sides had been chosen, Jumping Badger counted the men behind him, and said, “Twelve brave men stand with me, Elk Ivory. You have eight.”

She nodded, but it was a cold gesture. “We will stand with our relatives, as we always have,” she said. “But many fine warriors are about to die, Jumping Badger, and you are to blame.”

“Yes, go ahead and blame me, old woman. What do I care? Just do your duty to your people. We must kill the False Face Child before the rest of our clan dies!”

Jumping Badger turned his back to her, and ran up the beach with a straggling line of warriors behind him.

Buckeye put a hand on Elk Ivory’s shoulder. “Your words were true. I regret that so few people listened to them.”

Elk Ivory looked around at the warriors who had stood with her. “We all cast our voices. Even if we do not like the outcome, our responsibility now is to help our relatives. Come. Let’s catch up with them.”

Elk Ivory led the group forward at a trot.

Acorn pulled Wren to her feet, and started to follow.

But, wobbly from sitting, her head in agony, Wren’s feet didn’t want to work. She weaved from side to side, staggering uncontrollably, then tripped in one of Acorn’s moccasin prints and toppled to the sand. He dragged her for two paces, and stopped.

Acorn’s mouth tightened, and tears filled Wren’s eyes.

He glanced at the war party, pulling ahead fast, and bent over Wren. The ridge of hair that ran down the middle of his shaved skull shone in the light.

“My head,” she said hoarsely. “It hurts.”

“Little Wren, I cannot carry you. I must have my arms free to shoot my bow. But we also cannot lag hundreds of paces behind the war party. If we’re attacked, you and I will be the first ones picked off. Do you understand this?”

“Yes.”

“What am I to do with you?”

“L-leave me. Leave me here.”

“I can’t do that. And if I tell Jumping Badger that you can’t keep up, he’ll kill you.”

Wren bit her lip, and struggled to her feet, but nausea overwhelmed her, and her knees buckled. She hit the sand retching. She sat there until she could muster the strength to try again. This time, she rose and locked her knees. “I can keep up,” she said.