People of the Mist(46)

Rosebud’s once-narrow waist had thickened, and after five children her high breasts had begun to sag. She had just divorced her last husband, a man from Oyster Inlet, and was now swearing she’d never marry again.

As he sat by the popping fire, some portion of his mind was aware of the worried looks Rosebud and her family were giving him. Earlier, he had shrugged off their thinly veiled questions about what was going to happen next. Now the closest of them sat a respectful pace away, as if the distance would grant him a solution to this terrible mess.

The fire spat sparks as the damp wood smoldered in defiance of the freezing drizzle beyond the long house walls, its heat as futile as the options looming in his future. How could he possibly take High Fox from Three Myrtle Village? He would be making war on old friends, relatives, and people he genuinely liked and respected.

The moment the first arrow was released, no matter what the outcome of the battle, the damage to the alliance would be irreparable. Generations of trust would be severed as if cut by a sharp shell knife.

Nine Killer absently turned the cup in his hands, his soul’s eye focusing on his friends at Three Myrtle Village, the raids shared, the battles fought, the camaraderie they’d enjoyed. With each recollection, the sensation of emptiness swelled.

The hanging pulled back from the door, and he glanced up to see Hunting Hawk’s hunched figure duck awkwardly through, balanced on her sassafras cane. The old woman straightened, winced, and hobbled forward.

Tension rippled through the people, their postures straightening. Fists tightened on kirtles and bodies shifted uneasily as they glanced back and forth.

“Miserable night out there,” Hunting Hawk said by way of greeting. “Freezing rain. Foul stuff. You’d think it would have a care for old women like me who can’t afford to take a spill. Why, if I fall down, every bone in my body will snap.”

Rosebud stood hesitantly. “Greetings, Weroansqua. Can we get something for you? A cup of tea perhaps?”

“Yes, that would be fine.” Hunting Hawk stopped before Nine Killer. The War Chief stood and nodded a respectful greeting.

Okeus himself might have just walked into the room, the way people fidgeted in the attempt to look at ease.

If Hunting Hawk noticed, she betrayed no awareness.

“Be seated,” Nine Killer offered.

Braced on her sassafras cane, Hunting Hawk eased herself down with a crackling of joints and sighed.

Rosebud appeared flustered; she almost dropped the ceramic cup she used to dip warm tea from a pot on the cooking fire. She extended it to Hunting Hawk with anxious hands.

Hunting Hawk sipped the tea and nodded politely. “Thank you.” She raised an eyebrow. “War Chief, I was wondering if we could talk?” “If you’ll excuse us.” Rosebud shot a glance at her family. “I think we’ll take this opportunity to pay a visit to cousin Yellow Net.” Like a flushed covey of quail, the children scuttled for the doorway and the stormy night.

Hunting Hawk’s preoccupation kept her from noticing the panicked retreat. In the ensuing silence, the old woman turned her brooding eyes on the fire; her withered brown lips pursed as she watched the flames slowly win the battle with the damp wood.

Finally, Nine Killer asked, “What did you need to see me about, Weroansqua?”

“A bit formal, are we? “Weroansqua’? And just the two of us alone?”

Nine Killer shrugged as he gave her a wary scrutiny.

She took a drink from the tea and wiped her lips with the corner of her soft deerskin mantle. “I need to hear your thoughts, War Chief. If we decide to go to Three Myrtle and retrieve this High Fox, what are our options?”

Nine Killer ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to massage the frustration out of his knotted muscles. “What options are there? If we go after the boy, Three Myrtle will fight to protect him. Black Spike made that clear.”

“Can you win?”

Nine Killer couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Win, Elder? If I can take Three Myrtle, defeat Black Spike’s warriors, and capture the boy, will we have won? If I attack and they beat us back, or fight us to a stalemate, will we have won? No matter the outcome of the warfare, the results will be the same.” He met her hard gaze squarely. “The alliance will be destroyed, fragmented as completely as if you’d smacked a dry walnut with a stone-headed hammer.”

“Some things can’t be avoided.” Hunting Hawk made a sour face. “I’m trapped, War Chief, like a squirrel in a cage. I keep reaching out through the gaps to claw a way out, but I can’t find the latch string. Had it been any young woman but Red Knot, I could wiggle us out of this mess.”