“We don’t know that they will punish me.” He gave her his reasonable look. “I will explain the situation to them.”
“They will say that you do not serve the Guide’s Dream. That Power has forsaken you. Somehow, the blame will be placed on your head.”
He raised his right hand in a calming gesture. “Perhaps they are right.”
She gave him a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. “That is absurd!”
“Karigi has already told them that we have begun warning villages, allowing time for the women and children to escape. That does not sit well with Nashat.”
“We already have too many slaves to feed as it is.”
He gave her a warm smile. “When Karigi is made the high war chief, do not use that tone of voice with him.”
She glowered at him.
In reply, he said mildly, “Keresa, all we can do is see this thing through. We each have our responsibilities.”
“I will not serve Karigi.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Having won everything, I have a feeling, deep in my gut, that we are about to lose it all.”
“We won everything because of your leadership, War Chief. You were the man who planned it all; it was your skill and courage that led the way for our warriors to destroy the Sunpath People. If the Guide’s prophecy comes true, it is because you cleared the way.”
He smiled, reaching up, running his fingers down the side of her cheek. “You have been a good friend to me, Keresa. I did nothing. It was us. Together. The warriors know the truth. They take your orders because they know without you, none of this would have happened.”
Words choked in her throat. She looked away, watching the strange red light play across the Ice Giants. The fog had turned orange now.
“If they put you in a cage …” She swallowed hard. “Well, it won’t be long.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m coming after you.”
Skimmer followed Windwolf as he wound his way through the brooding spruce trees that rose like spears above the old moraine. In the hollows, willows lined the now-dry pools, snow clinging to the shadows. Brown grass lay flat on the ground, waiting to send the first shoots up from the soil. Patches of roses, and old wilted stems, rasped on their moccasins.
Through the trees she could see the odd red morning light. Exhaustion lay like stone in her muscles. Her mind wandered, replaying bits and pieces of her life, all disjointed and fleeting.
Windwolf! How did I happen to find him, of all people?
She glanced at his broad back, the leather of his war shirt tight around his muscular shoulders, bunched where his belt snugged it around his slim waist. His long darts hung ready in his left hand, his atlatl in his right.
She had been a young bride, just married to Hookmaker, when the Nine Pipes band went to war with Windwolf and Bramble. They had fought bitterly over a border dispute—and lost.
Mine was one of the most strident voices speaking against an alliance when Windwolf and Bramble first proposed it.
Now she shook her head. How petty it had all been. Her people had defeated themselves long before the first Nightland war party came slipping down from the north.
The irony of it wasn’t lost on her. It had only taken the death of her husband and the corpses of the dead women in the pen to make her understand.
They walked in silence for another two hands of time. Then Ashes started to stumble from exhaustion.
Skimmer said, “We need to stop for a while. My daughter has to rest.”
Windwolf’s gaze went to Ashes, and he seemed to be examining her, judging her level of exhaustion, probably trying to determine how much farther he could push her.
He said, “All right. You two sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Ashes glanced uncertainly at the tall man. “Can we trust him, Mother? He’s Windwolf!”
She whispered back, “This time he fights the same enemy we do. Let’s try to sleep.”
Skimmer thankfully lowered herself to the ground. Ashes curled up with her head in Skimmer’s lap. In moments her daughter’s breathing changed to the deep rhythms of sleep. Exhausted herself, she leaned her head back against the gritty rock and studied her old nemesis.
“Are we safe?” she whispered.
Without turning, he said, “You sleep, too.”
Skimmer glared. “Can you speak without giving orders?”
He turned to look at her, hesitated, then said, “Not very well. Forgive me. Let me try again. We’re not safe. Not for an instant, but I’d rather not tell you that. I’d rather have you get as much sleep as you can so that when the time comes, you can both run.”
She let out a breath. “I understand. I’m grateful for your help.”