People of the Mist(168)

Sun Conch felt the cold arrow lance through her upper arm, cut a path along her ribs, and lodge beneath her left breast. Staggering, she knocked The Panther to the ground, and covered his old body with her own. The flesh around the arrow shaft tore, and she screamed raggedly, “Run!”

“Sun Conch!” Panther cried. “Sun Conch? What’s wrong? What—”

“Run!” she shouted. “He’s trying to kill you!”

From a great distance, she heard Nine Killer shouting orders, and felt Panther wiggle out from beneath her.

Pain filled her world, engulfing her. All Sun Conch could do was curl on her side and hug the hurt into her soul.





Twenty-nine




Nine Killer paced back and forth, smacking his fist into his callused palm. Rage mixed with futility. He glanced down to watch as Panther used a piece of soaked leather to sponge Sun Conch’s brow. Green Serpent sang in the background, his rattle shish-shishing in time to the rising and falling chant.

As his warriors scoured the village for the assailant, Nine Killer had carried the whimpering Sun Conch to Rosebud’s long house Panther had been dogging his heels, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch the young woman’s arm. Lightning Cat had brought the basket, and now it rested across the fire from them, firelight tracing patterns on its side.

White Otter and the other children gathered around to watch with wide eyes. Flying Weir ducked through the doorway, face grim. At Nine Killer’s questioning gaze, he slowly shook his head and said, “Nothing, War Chief. We’re searching from house to house, but I can’t say what we’ll discover. People have been coming and going all night.”

“Someone must have seen something.”

Flying Weir shrugged. “War Chief, the fog is so thick, we could have run right past her attacker. Even the guard at the gate might not have known if a person slipped past.”

“Where were Black Spike’s men? Were they all in the Great House?”

Flying Weir frowned. “I—I don’t know.”

“Find out. And the Great Tayac’s men, too. Account for each one.” Nine Killer took a deep breath. “You’d better include Flat Willow in that list, too.”

Flying Weir jerked a quick nod before ducking out into the night again.

Nine Killer exhaled wearily and shook his head. What had they come to that he could be suspicious of his own people? And worse, what would it mean for them if Flat Willow did indeed turn out to be the culprit?

He knelt beside Panther and inspected Sun Conch’s wound. The arrow had entered her body from the left, pinning her arm to her side, then slicing deeply under her breast until the point bulged the skin above her breastbone.

Nine Killer winced, and asked, “What do you think?”

“We’ll break off the fl etching cut the skin on her chest, and pull it through.” Worry filled Panther’s moist brown eyes.

“And then?”

Panther shrugged. “The rest is up to the Spirits and, perhaps, the good graces of Ohona.” He studied the wound again. “A poultice will only work on the holes. If infection sets in, it will be difficult to drain.” He gently pressed down on her breast, feeling with his fingertips. “Ah, that’s a bit of luck. The point didn’t break any ribs and I can feel the shaft. It’s outside of her ribs. Her lung should be safe.” Nine Killer called, “White Otter, bring me your mother’s sewing awls. I need a big one, sharp, maybe that one made from the deer’s bone.”

White Otter whirled and ran for the rear of the house. Within moments she was back, handing him the bone awl. It had been crafted from the long cannon bone, just up from the hooves. The lower joint had been broken off and the shank sharpened into a needle point.

Meanwhile, Panther used a sharpened clamshell to cut a deep notch in the arrow shaft just ahead of the sinew binding that held the split-feather fl etching in place. With a quick snap, he broke the shaft. Sun Conch groaned.

“Easy. Easy, Sun Conch,” Nine Killer soothed. The girl’s face pinched in agony. “This is going to hurt worse than it’s hurt so far. We have to pull the arrow.” “Yes,” she gasped. “I know.” Her throat worked as she swallowed dryly. “I—I’ll try to be brave.”

Panther smiled down at her. “You’re the bravest woman I know.”

Her answering smile was weak, strained against the pain.

“Here, let me.” Panther took the awl, frowned at the tip, and said, “I’ve had a little more practice at this.”

“Not much, I’d wager.” Nine Killer placed his fingers on Sun Conch’s skin, pressing down to stretch it over the point.