“Fool!” Drummer’s wrinkled face tensed. “The Nightland People are monsters straight out of Raven Hunter’s Long Dark.”
Sacred Feathers pointed to an old woman sitting in front of a lodge scraping a fresh deer hide. She used her hafted chert scraper to carefully remove the last bits of flesh, preparing the hide for tanning. “The morning before our band was attacked, a Nightland warrior ran through, gave her a freshly killed snowshoe hare, and ran away. I thought it was kindness. A gesture of—”
“He was a spy! It got him into our camp so he could look around. I told you we should have killed him before he could run away.”
Sacred Feathers threw up his arms in exasperation. “Grandfather, Nightland warriors have been traveling through our territory for many summers. They stopped, they Traded, they told stories. Most Nightland warriors are peaceful!”
Drummer leaned forward and squinted an eye malevolently. “It’s a lot easier to kill people when they still think you want peace.”
Windwolf watched the conversation with an ache in his chest. He’d heard these same words so many times. There was always a peacemaker and a warrior. And depending upon the circumstances, each might be right.
“When did Karigi strike?” Windwolf asked.
Sacred Feathers threw another branch on the fire and watched the flames. “Two moons ago. We didn’t know what to do. We just crept northward, hunting, fishing, hiding by day, hoping to find sanctuary in other Sunpath territories.” He hung his head. “Most of them had already been abandoned.”
“What brought you here?” Windwolf said.
“We met other fleeing people on the trails. They said Chief Lookingbill had promised sanctuary. And we heard you were here.”
Windwolf let out a breath. “You are safe here. For the moment. But you can only have a couple of days to regain your strength. I will appoint a couple of warriors to escort you west. We are building a new home in the Tills.”
Sacred Feathers ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know. This is the land of our Ancestors. I’ve always believed that we could negotiate with the Nightland People, establish agreements for Trade, or the use of certain hunting or gathering grounds, but now … now, I don’t know.”
Drummer banged his foot on the hearthstones, as though to get everyone’s attention. “The only time talk has ever helped the Sunpath People was when Windwolf rammed it down their throats with a war party at his back.”
Windwolf nodded in gratitude, but deep inside him, a voice asked, “There are fewer Sunpath bands now than when I started protecting our people. Have I helped them?”
Drummer continued, “The only reason Karigi didn’t capture me is because I was afraid to return to my lodge. After the snowshoe hare was delivered, I walked all day to get to Walnut Creek Camp, spent one day there, and moved on. I just kept moving.”
“How did you hear about the attack?” Windwolf asked.
Drummer extended a hand to his grandson. “The great chief, Sacred Feathers—his tail stuck between his legs—and a handful of survivors came running into the village where I was staying.”
“Oh, Grandfather.” Sacred Feathers exhaled the words.
Windwolf interrupted. “I need you to help me understand what Karigi is doing.” He pulled his stiletto from his belt and started drawing in the dirt around the firepit. “These are the bands I know he has recently attacked.” He poked holes into the soil. “Do you know of any others?”
“Yes,” Sacred Feathers said. He used his fingers to poke two more holes. “Both of these. We met survivors on the trails.”
“The survivors were not headed here?”
Sacred Feathers shook his head. “No. Many people do not believe that the Lame Bull Elders will keep their word when Karigi finally arrives here. But they haven’t heard you are here, either. Or that you’ve trapped Kakala.”
Why do they have such faith in me? I’ve failed them all. “Given what you’ve heard, where is Karigi now?”
Sacred Feathers seemed to be thinking about it. Finally he said, “He could be on his way back to the Nightland country. He’s moving very fast.”
“How many warriors does he have?” Windwolf’s stomach muscles clenched in preparation.
“Six tens, maybe seven tens. We didn’t have time to count.”
Six tens? With Hawhak and Blackta’s warriors, plus any others the Council can scrap up, they could hit us with more than ten tens. Were it he, he’d attack with two tens of warriors coming from five different directions. There could be no defense. But Karigi’s moving fast. His men will be worn out.