He lifted it to take a big bite, but stopped, letting the hare hover right in front of his teeth. By Raven Hunter’s breath, that would be a cruel twist, wouldn’t it?
“Oh, I see,” Windwolf said irritably. He walked up, pulled off a strip of meat, and ate it. “Feel better?”
“I will in another six tens of heartbeats. I’m sure you’d only use the best poison.”
“Of course I would. Why would I want you to suffer for days? After everything you’ve done for my people, I’d want your death to be quick and painless, wouldn’t I?”
The irony in his voice made Kakala’s skin creep. “Your cunning in war is legendary. Your sense of humor needs work.”
Kakala took a big bite of the juicy white meat and swallowed it whole, barely chewing. Then he attacked the carcass.
Windwolf squared his shoulders, standing rigid as a wooden statue.
With a greasy hand, Kakala gestured to the far side of the flat rock. “Why don’t you sit down? You look like you need to.”
Windwolf just stared at him.
While Kakala ate, Windwolf meandered around the boulders, glancing frequently back to make sure Kakala still sat eating his hare. The night breeze was sharp with the scent of spruce needles.
Kakala asked, “Have you already sent warriors to the Nightland Caves?”
“No.”
Kakala laughed condescendingly. “You should run there right now and throw yourself at the feet of the Guide to beg for mercy. If you surrender, he might spare your life.”
“And after two botched attacks on Headswift Village, maybe Nashat would show the same leniency to you. Why don’t we go together?” He paused. “Or we could ask Karigi what punishment he would prefer.”
At the thought of Karigi—and the disaster at Walking Seal Village—Kakala’s belly soured. He took another bite, but it didn’t taste nearly as good.
Windwolf wandered to the far side of the flat rock, and his gaze settled on Kakala’s cape, the red war shirt visible through the open front. A strange expression tensed his face. He pointed to the painted sash that belted Kakala’s waist. “That’s from the Star Tree band, isn’t it? It looks like their painting style.”
Kakala took another big bite of his hare and, as he chewed, looked down at his sash. “The Star Tree painters were some of the best anywhere. I always appreciated their work.”
Windwolf studied the sash. “Just when did you develop this appreciation? Before or after you killed every living thing in Star Tree Village?”
A chilling tingle filled Kakala’s breast, like icy ants crawling around inside him. “Insults between us are useless at this point, Windwolf. Why did you wish to speak with me?”
Windwolf inhaled a deep breath, as though preparing himself for a lengthy conversation. “Your warriors are holding up better than I’d have thought.You trained them well.”
Kakala wiped his mouth on his sleeve and eyed Windwolf speculatively. The compliment sounded honest—a gesture from one war chief to another. It made him even more uneasy. “Keresa kept them together while I was ill. She deserves the credit.”
“We could all wish for so talented a deputy.”
Kakala gently rested the hare bones on the rock beside him. A curious light gleamed in Windwolf’s eyes at the mention of Keresa’s name. Kakala noted it, then pulled out the gut water bag that rested in the basket and took a long drink.
“Come and sit down, Windwolf. You make me nervous pacing around.”
He continued standing. “How are you feeling?”
“Concerned about your skill with a war club?”
“A bit. You should be dead.”
“I’ve had a great deal of practice fighting with you. It’s made me fast on my feet.”
Windwolf actually chuckled. “Me, too.”
“Flathead is a good Healer. I’m doing better. How are your refugees?”
For several painfully quiet moments, Windwolf bowed his head. “Several are dying. Some with agonizing slowness. Others too swiftly for their families to mourn. Why do you care? Worried about your skill with an atlatl?”
From some crack in Kakala’s soul, hysterical voices rose, pleading with him not to kill them. “I’ve never liked attacking defenseless people.”
“No? You’ve certainly done it often enough. When did you decide you didn’t like it? Somewhere between ten children and ten tens? Perhaps it was the women who bothered you? Not enough of them to rape and mutilate?”
“Let me know when it’s my turn. I have a few things I’d like to tell you, too.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do.”
Windwolf walked back and forth in front of the rock with his brow furrowed. “You’ve never enjoyed murdering my people, or trying to take our lands? I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind, then, telling me what other orders you’ve received lately regarding Sunpath bands?”