“I just can’t …” The war club hammed the pulped head again. “ … abide …”
Windwolf watched the women flinch at the snapping impact of the club as it continued to hammer at the man’s crushed skull. He reached out and laid a restraining hand on Kakala’s bulging arm, feeling the rage.
“The captives have been freed,” Windwolf told the women. “Find your clothing, or take what you need from here. The robes will be a comfort during the cold. But go now. Stay silent until you are far away. Head south. Follow the others.”
The little girl still lay on her back, legs spread, her naked body pathetically vulnerable in the flickering light.
“See to her!” Windwolf ordered. “I am making you responsible! And, by the Spirits, if you fail me …”
“Yes, warrior,” one of the women said, and they bundled the little girl up as they stripped the lodge and hurried out into the night.
Kakala sank down beside the fire, his face working. He looked up. “Are you made of wood?”
“It splinters too easily. What do you mean: Am I made of wood?”
“How can you be so calm after seeing this?”
Windwolf sighed. “It is nothing new, Kakala.”
“It is among my warriors. A child. A little child!”
“Are you telling me you didn’t hear the stories?”
Kakala spread his hands, looking at the palms. “Somehow, it was different this time.”
“Then perhaps you have finally found your soul. You will have plenty of time to become acquainted with it in the Long Dark.”
Kakala smiled bitterly. “The Long Dark? What right do I have to enter paradise?” Then he slapped his knees and rose. “Come. Let’s see if there are any others, and then you and Keresa can be on your way.”
Passing occasional corpses, Windwolf almost dismissed the huddled forms at the distant end of the enclosure. He walked over, kicking at a foot.
“What?” a man asked, sitting up in the darkness.
“You’re leaving, quietly.”
“Windwolf?” the man asked incredulously.
“Quiet. Just get up and walk. Leave and head south. Make no noise. You have to get as far as you can by morning.”
“Yes. Yes!” The man turned the next figure, trying to rouse the sleeping man. “Wake up! Grandfather, let’s go!”
Windwolf pressed on, kicking each corpse, investigating each pile of clothing.
He met Kakala and Keresa at the gate. “I think that’s the last of them. Did the women take the girl with them?”
“They did.” Kakala was still looking downcast, staring at his hands.
“All of our warriors have gone,” Keresa added. “I don’t want to remind you about Silvertip’s flood. We don’t have much time to get south.”
“No,” Windwolf agreed. He glanced around, noticing that more clouds had moved in, the darkness increasing. “Kakala, I thank you for this.”
“My debt is repaid, Windwolf.”
“What debt is that?” a voice asked from the darkness.
Kakala spun. “Blackta?”
Dark shapes formed in the night. Windwolf eased his war club from his belt. How many? Four? Five?
“So, you’ve captured Windwolf after all?” Blackta walked up, peering in the darkness. “Brought him to the slave compound? Not the Council chambers? Are you insane? He’ll give the slaves hope after we’ve taken so much time to beat it out of them.”
Windwolf gripped the handle of his war club, feeling the familiar smooth grain of the wood. He started forward, only to feel Keresa’s restraining hand grip his forearm.
Kakala stepped breast to breast with Blackta. “You are dismissed, War Chief. Get away from me before I break your neck!”
Blackta seemed to consider it, then cocked his head. “Quiet in there.” He bent, craning, trying to see into the compound.
“Like you said, you beat half the life out of them.” Kakala seemed to swell in the night. “You make me sick.”
“Oh, do I?” Blackta chuckled. “You’ve been in the cages how many times? Twice?” He turned, “Tanga, see to the slaves. Make sure they’re not up to mischief.”
Kakala barked, “Tanga! You, and the war chief will return immediately to your camps. As high war chief, I order it.”
“No,” Blackta said crisply. “Check, Tanga. Now.”
“You would disobey me?” Kakala demanded.
Tanga stepped to the side, lifting himself above the wall to say, “I think it’s empty!”
Blackta’s movement was a blur in the night. Kakala snapped back from the impact as Blackta drove a fist into his jaw. Then the man was on him, kicking, beating.