“It’s ridiculous!” Frost-in-the-Willows said. “Blue Raven is Headman. He knows the price for such an act. Why would he throw away his life, and Wren’s future, for the False Face Child?”
Jumping Badger’s voice came out low: “Because he’s a traitor. Lamedeer told me. I didn’t wish to believe, but now …” He swung around to point at the grisly head in the corner, and every eye in the longhouse followed his arm. “It must be true. My cousin is in league with the ghosts. He heard the prophecy that the False Face Child would be the death of the Walksalong Clan, and released the boy anyway. Matron, we must leave at first light! We have to find that boy before it’s too late!”
Frost-in-the-Willows angrily threw off her hides and reached for her moccasins. “Blue Raven has done everything in his Power to guide and protect the Walksalong Clan, Jumping Badger. You are the one who talked the matrons into stealing the boy. If we should question anyone’s loyalty, it’s yours.”
Cornhusk saw several people around him nod.
“But I am still here, old woman,” Jumping Badger answered. “Your son is not.”
“We do not know that yet,” Starflower said, lifting a hand to end the argument. “Prepare a search party, War Leader. I want the three of them found by dawn. If necessary, you may kill the boy, but I want the other two alive.” She turned back to Frost-in-the-Willows. “This may be a long night. We have many things to discuss.”
Frost-in-the-Willows put on her cape and rose to her feet. “I will build up my fire, and put on a pot of tea.”
Jumping Badger stood rigid as a granite pillar.
Starflower’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the matter with you, War Leader? I gave you an order!”
He wet his lips. “I heard, Matron, but I … you didn’t really mean you want me to form a search party now? Tonight?”
“I just said so, didn’t I? Start on the shore of Pipe Stem Lake, but be ready to follow their tracks wherever they might lead you.”
Jumping Badger didn’t move.
Cornhusk could swear the war leader’s knees had started shaking.
“Tracks?” Jumping Badger said, his voice shrill. “In the darkness? We’ll never be able to find anything tonight! We may as well wait until morning when we can see what we are doing.”
Starflower walked closer to him, her head tipped back. “I said now, War Leader. I won’t tell you again. By morning their trail will certainly be gone. Tonight you might spot something. Make torches. Have your men carry them as they search.”
“Torches,” Jumping Badger said through a relieved breath. “Of course. Yes, Matron. I will run to the other houses to notify the warriors there.”
“Take the best, War Leader, but no more than twenty. And leave Pumpkin Blossom’s house alone. In the morning, I will tell Springwater that, while you are away, he is war leader and responsible for protecting the village. But you may select warriors from any other house you wish.”
Jumping Badger went back to his bedding and began stuffing things into his pack. When he’d finished, he put on his thick beaverhide coat, slung his bow and quiver over his left shoulder, and reached for Lamedeer’s head. Lifting it high in the smoky air, he shouted, “I wish all seven warriors in this house to meet me in the plaza in one finger of time!”
Groans rose as men threw off their blankets and reached for weapons.
Jumping Badger did not glance at Cornhusk as he ducked through the doorway.
Cornhusk sank into his bedding, waiting.
Frost-in-the-Willows and Starflower added wood to the fire at the far end of the longhouse and sat down to talk. He could hear their quiet voices, but couldn’t make out any of the words. Loon stood behind Starflower, arms folded, her short hair shining in the firelight.
The seven warriors filed past him and ducked out the doorway.
The remaining people rolled into their bedding again, and conversations gradually died.
Cornhusk silently gathered his hides, tied them to his pack, and slipped out into the snow.
Fifteen
Golden rays of light shot across the cloud-strewn sky, and the sudden reflection off the snow blinded Blue Raven. He stumbled to a stop.
Wren’s trail ran up the hillside in front of him, shallow, and wind-blown. She weighed so little, she’d been able to walk on top of the drifts, dragging Rumbler behind her. Her tracks barely dented the snow, but they were there. Blue Raven’s trail, by comparison, resembled a swath cut by a desperate moose. Every step he took, he sank into the hip-deep drifts and had to fight his way out.
Dancing Man River lay to his left. He propped his hands on his hips and granted himself a moment of rest. A luminous halo of mist rose above the tumbling water, and colors twinkled through the haze.