Sparrow rotated his shoulders. “Blessed ancestors,” he whispered. “I hurt all over.”
He reached for one of the cups, and dipped it full of hot tea. When he started to drink, his reflection stared back, his beaked nose, bushy white eyebrows, and blunt chin clear. His white braid draped his left shoulder. As he tilted his head to examine the wrinkles around his eyes, Dust spoke.
“You look ancient.” She still lay rolled in her blankets.
“I look wise.”
“You’ve started to believe that drivel people say about you, Sparrow.”
He grinned. “Why don’t you rise so we can be on our way.”
She propped herself on one elbow and long silver hair tumbled over her shoulders. “Blessed gods, it was a cold night. My bones ache.”
“I fear we shall see more cold nights before this is through, Dust.”
She yawned. “Where do you think Cornhusk is?”
“I don’t know. Probably half a day ahead of us. He canoes the lakes, and runs the trails, constantly. You and I are lucky if we can run for a finger of time before we sprawl face first into the dirt.”
Dust gave him a faintly amused look, and threw off her blanket. Like him, she’d slept in her clothes. She extended one long brown leg, and massaged her calf muscles. Her groan affirmed his opinion about their aging bodies.
“Hurts, eh?”
“No worse than the rest of me.” She got to her feet and walked to the fire. The creases in her leather cape would fall out as they traveled, but right now they resembled a thick web. Dust knelt, and reached for her pack which lay at the edge of the hearthstones. Drawing out a wooden comb, she began running it through her hair. The long waves from yesterday’s braid picked up the fire’s gleam and seemed to flicker and spark.
Sparrow had missed this morning ritual more than he’d realized. Seeing it again brought him a pleasurable anguish. When they’d been married, every night before retiring he’d combed her hair for her. Beneath his hands, that lustrous wealth had gone from deepest black to pure gray, and he’d cherished the changes in each strand.
“We should reach Walksalong Village in six days, shouldn’t we?” she asked.
“Yes. If we push ourselves to the limit of our elderly endurances. We should make it on the evening of the day between the new moon and the full moon.”
“But’s that’s good, isn’t it? We’ll be able to pick up Rumbler and escape under the cover of darkness. We’ll be home by the full moon.”
Sparrow swirled his tea. “I hope so.”
Her comb halted. “What does that mean? You didn’t Dream something, did you?”
“No. I just have this knot in my belly. I’m worried that Jumping Badger might do something completely unexpected.”
“You mean like surround us with fifty warriors?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She started combing her hair again. “Well, then you’ll have to deliver one of your famed speeches.”
“Famed? My speeches?”
“Cornhusk says so.”
He sipped his tea. “In Jumping Badger’s case, I doubt any of my speeches, famed or not, will have an effect. I barely know him, Dust. I met him once, ten winters ago when we were still Trading with the Bear Nation. He wasn’t even war leader then. He was a surly boy. I was in Walksalong Village to speak with their Headman, Blue Raven. His mother, Frost-in-the-Willows, was there, and Jumping Badger strutted through the longhouse.”
“Well, he’s afraid of you. That’s enough.”
Sparrow gulped the rest of his tea, and poured the dregs on the fire. Steam exploded as drops of water bounced across the logs. “Just in case it isn’t, maybe I’d better start thinking up speeches.”
Dust tugged her hair over her right shoulder and began plaiting it into a thick braid. “What are we eating?”
“I thought we’d pull one of those food bags out of your pack.”
“You’ve always been lazy, Sparrow. You haven’t started anything? Nothing at all?”
“I started the tea.”
Sparrow reached for a cup, dipped it full, and handed it to her.
Dust set it on the ground, and finished her braid. After she’d tied it with a cord, she tucked her comb into her pack, and drew out two birch-bark bags, one painted blue, the other red. “Here,” she said as she tossed him the blue bag. “Since it’s too late to start anything hot, this will have to do.”
Sparrow unlaced the bag and drew out a thick slice of beaver jerky. “What’s in the red bag?”
“Corn cakes.” She pulled one out and took a bite.
He eyed it longingly. “With roasted hickory nuts?”