“Where are all the—?”
“Keep walking,” Windwolf said.
Kakala looked at him with new appreciation. “You’ve known someone would be coming.”
Windwolf shot him a sidelong look. “And you didn’t? Holding an entire Nightland war party is big news.”
Kakala sighed. I’ve been so busy keeping my people together and worrying about the cages, I haven’t thought about those parties of Sunpath People headed west. Not all of them would have made it past Karigi.
“You irritate me,” Kakala muttered. Then he laughed, more at himself than anything else.
“Good,” Windwolf replied. Then he gave Kakala a serious look. “When I capture Karigi, you can have what’s left of him when I’m through.”
Kakala narrowed an eye. “When I take you back to the Council, I might let your bindings slip when we see him.”
“Keresa told you about the Dreamer’s vision?”
“The flood coming? Yes. She seems to believe it.”
“So do I.” Windwolf rocked his jaw. “But for the death, suffering, and misery, it makes our war appear even more insane.”
“Assuming your Dreamer is correct.” Kakala shrugged. “The Guide has been promising to lead us back to the Long Dark for a long time, now. It doesn’t seem to ever happen.”
“Maybe he serves the wrong Spirit.”
“Or yours does.” Kakala arched an eyebrow.
From behind, Keresa said, “Have either of you thought that perhaps they are both right? Raven Hunter wants to take his people into the ice, just as Wolf Dreamer wishes his people to flee to the Tills in the west?”
“Perhaps,” Windwolf agreed.
They strode up the trail toward the ceremonial cave near the crest of the hill.
Kakala’s eyes widened when he saw that every high point around the village had a red-shirted warrior standing on it. He grimaced. “So that’s what you did with the shirts you took from my dead warriors. It might work. If the runner doesn’t look too closely.”
“After you speak with him, I want you to order him to run straight back home.”
“What reason shall I give?”
“You have a message for the Nightland Elders.”
Kakala exhaled unhappily. “What is it?”
“You’re still hunting down some of the survivors, but upon your return you will personally be bringing me back alive as a present to the Elders.”
Kakala studied his hard expression. “I will?”
“Just tell him.”
“Windwolf?” Keresa asked in surprise. “By Raven Hunter, do you know what they’ll do to you?”
Kakala stared in open shock. “Nashat will order you tortured to death.”
“No,” Keresa hissed. “Windwolf, you do not have to do this thing for me! Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably,” Windwolf said gruffly.
When they reached the ceremonial chamber, Windwolf gripped him by the arm. “Order your warriors to sit down in a circle around the fire and start having a delightful conversation.”
Kakala roughly shook Windwolf’s arm loose, walking out into the room. “You heard him. I want you to look tired. Think of this as the first rest we’ve had in a long time.” He met their eyes, letting his stare bore into Goodeagle’s. “Are you with me?”
“Yes, War Chief,” they shouted in unison.
Kakala nodded. He ignores Goodeagle, acts as if he doesn’t exist. Is there something I can use here?
His warriors sat, delighted to find a skewered elk haunch slowly roasting. They dipped themselves cups of warm tea from the bag on the tripod and started whispering to each other.
Windwolf jerked his chin at his own warriors, and they slipped into the shadows of the cavern’s walls.
Windwolf eased back to Kakala’s right, hiding behind the lip of the cave, but his dart point stabbed uncomfortably into Kakala’s kidney. He said, “Don’t forget:Your warriors’ lives are at stake.”
Kakala shot a glare over his shoulder. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“That is a fascinating discussion we’ll save for another time.”
Kakala pulled himself straight. Forgetting where he was, his head struck the stone. At the impact he almost passed out. Trembling, he fought the urge to cry out. His warriors noticed. They looked at him breathlessly, some obviously worried that he was too ill to handle things. It made his gut ache as badly as his head.
Keresa’s hard eyes assessed the Lame Bull warriors, then shifted to Kakala. “Are you all right?”
Kakala nodded, and in the calmest tone he could muster, said, “We’ll proceed just as though this were a casual conversation with a runner from the Elders. No heroics, or our friend Windwolf will order his warriors to kill us all.”