“They would kill a little girl?” Dust said, her voice going rough. “Why?”
“Because of the curse, Matron.” Cornhusk edged closer. “Remember? Lamedeer said that the False Face Child would be the death of the Walksalong Clan. As the matrons see it, by saving the boy, Blue Raven and Little Wren have condemned their entire clan.”
Dust bowed her head and shook it. “Didn’t I tell you, Sparrow? They’re savages.”
Cornhusk glanced at Sparrow. “You must leave. Now. The child is gone. There’s nothing here for you.”
Dust fingered the hem of her cape, and Sparrow could see the thoughts churning behind her eyes. “Why would Blue Raven save Rumbler?”
Cornhusk flapped his arms like a demented goose. “I don’t know! None of this makes any sense.”
“Where would he take him?”
“Well, I should think, Matron, that if he cared enough to save the child, he would take him any place the boy wanted to go!”
Dust nodded. “Yes. I suppose he would.”
Cornhusk glanced over his shoulder. “Now please go. I don’t want to be responsible for your mutilations. Jumping Badger—”
“Where is Jumping Badger?” Sparrow asked suddenly, his gaze searching the blowing snow.
“Gone. Matron Starflower ordered him to hunt down Blue Raven. He formed a search party and left last night. He hasn’t returned yet.” Cornhusk shifted his weight to his left foot. “Frankly, I hope he never comes back! All night long he whispered to Lamedeer’s rotting head. Saying crazy things about ghost armies, and how you, Sparrow, were in league with the ghosts, trying to kill him.”
Sparrow slipped his arrow back into his quiver and slung his bow over his shoulder. “Tell me exactly what Jumping Badger said.”
“Well, many things. He told Lamedeer that he could hear everything Lamedeer said to the dwarf child, that it echoed in his head.” Cornhusk smirked in disgust. “Then he said something like, ‘I know exactly what you’re planning. You and that accursed Silver Sparrow.’ He also said that as long as he was near a fire after nightfall nothing could hurt him. I tell you, he’s lost his wits. His souls are flitting around like bats.”
Sparrow said, “How many warriors did he take with him?”
“Twenty. He also took Lamedeer’s severed head.”
Dust whispered, “How curious.”
“Oh, no, that part makes perfect sense. Trust me. Nobody else is going to talk to Jumping Badger.” Cornhusk backed up a step. “Now, I must leave before Jumping Badger returns. Please tell no one you saw me. Do you understand? No one!”
Dust rose to her feet and faced him. “We’ll do as you ask, Cornhusk, but I must say, I don’t understand why you risked coming to warn us. There was no profit in it. What made you do such a thing?”
He grinned, showing his rotted teeth. “I got you into this. I had to get you out.”
“That’s very noble, but—”
“No, Matron, not noble. Practical.” He glanced at Sparrow. “Your former husband has quite a reputation. If he died and someone thought it was my fault, I wouldn’t have long to live.”
Sparrow smiled. “Especially not if I cursed you myself before I died.”
Cornhusk’s grin vanished. “Er—that was another reason.”
“Well, whatever your reasons,” Dust said, “we thank you.”
“Happy to have served you well, Matron.” As he hurried into the forest, down the trail he’d cut earlier, he called, “Don’t forget, Silver Sparrow! After Jumping Badger finds Blue Raven, he’ll be coming for you! He still thinks you cursed him!”
Sparrow cupped a hand to his mouth, and replied, “If you see him, tell Jumping Badger I’ll be waiting for him. With my army of ghosts!”
Cornhusk stumbled, and almost slammed into a tree before he caught himself. He smiled uneasily, lifted a hand, and disappeared into the shadows.
Dust squinted at him. Snow had melted on her long gray braid, and it sparkled with water drops. “Why did you say that?”
Sparrow reached for his water bag. As he tied it back onto his belt, he said, “Just what do you think I do to get my reputation? Turn myself into birds? Lope around in the bodies of big cats?”
She stared at him.
Sparrow slung his pack over his left shoulder. “Pack up, Dust. I know where Rumbler’s headed. We might be able to—”
“How do you know?”
Sparrow grabbed the corn cakes bag and thrust it at her. “I’m an old man, Dust. Hope is all I have.”
Rumbler lay on his back in the bow of the canoe, snuggled warmly in Little Wren’s white fox-fur cape. Wind Mother liked the cape; she kept gently stroking the fur, making it shimmer like frost at dawn. Rumbler touched it with his puffy fingers. He didn’t know why Little Wren had given it to him. This cape was warmer than the deerhide one she wore. Or why she had dragged him off Lost Hill. Her people had wanted him to die. Did they wish her to die now, too?