The huge boulders leaned over them like monsters hunching to listen to their conversation.
“Father,” Dipper called, “Windwolf just arrived.” She paused for effect. “He has found Skimmer!”
“Skimmer? It is too good to be true! Come, my friends. We must talk.”
Windwolf could make out Lookingbill and his grandson sitting behind a small lamp. The distinctive scent of burning oil grew stronger as they approached. In the pale gleam, Lookingbill’s fleshy nose seemed larger, his wrinkles more deeply cut. The few strands of hair that clung to his head were silver in the light.
“Thank Wolf Dreamer that you’re here,” Lookingbill said, and gestured to the hides spread on the floor. “Please, sit. Can I get you anything? Food? Water?”
“I will see to it,” Dipper said as she turned and walked out.
Skimmer and Ashes settled themselves on the hides, but Windwolf remained standing. He noticed that Lookingbill’s grandson, Silvertip, knelt beside a Spirit bundle painted with white wolves. The boy kept sneaking glances at the bundle, and wiping his palms on his pants, as though he longed to touch it.
“What is it, Chief?” Windwolf asked.
“A runner came in two hands of time ago. One of our spies in the Nightland Caves sends word that Nashat is talking about attacking us. He is waiting only for Kakala’s return.”
“Word must have gotten back that you have allied with us.” Windwolf clenched his fists.
“Perhaps. It was inevitable.”
Windwolf slowly nodded. Kakala was a pragmatist, a very effective one, but he wasn’t creative.
Windwolf said, “I suggested this once before. Now I urge you to pack up your village and move. Immediately.”
“As soon as we heard about the attack, we convened the village Elders to discuss it. We have many children and elders, not to mention the Sunpath People who have come seeking safety. We cannot move swiftly. And, War Chief, what’s to say that Kakala wouldn’t follow and slaughter us? We’d be out in the open. It would be much easier to ambush us on the trails.” He looked up. “Our people voted to stay.”
“I have to admit, if we’re going to fight, it would be better to do it here. If we can hand Kakala a stinging defeat, he will withdraw, lick his wounds before trying it again. That would be the time to leave.”
“Fish Hawk hoped that you might have a plan?”
Windwolf chuckled. “When it comes to war, I always have a plan.” He considered a wild idea that had filled his thoughts on the trail. Something Kakala would never suspect. “Tonight someone must show me every tunnel here.”
“Yes, of course, Fish Hawk will do that. In preparation we’ve already carried basket-loads of food and gourds of water to the most remote tunnels.” The old man ran a hand over his balding head and heaved a sigh. The scents of the night—the smoke of campfires and roasting meat—drifted into the chamber, along with threads of conversation from the people who had collected on the trail outside.
Lookingbill raised his eyes. “How many warriors will they be sending? Can you guess?”
“That will depend on how many of their warriors are close.”
“Then you will be happy to hear that Horehound has just returned. Your deputy Silt dealt Hawhak a severe blow. Karigi and Blackta are both south, seeking to find more of your villages and camps.”
“Horehound delivered my message?”
“He did. Silt will obey your orders. Horehound said that he didn’t like it, and wants you to know that after two moons, he’s coming looking for you.”
“After two moons, Chief, we will either have won this thing, or we’ll be dead.”
Neither Lookingbill nor Skimmer showed any change of expression.
“So, with the war parties out, Kakala won’t have a large force to work with … .” The twists and turns were coalescing into a plan, and becoming a good deal more frightening. Without even realizing he’d spoken, he whispered, “That’s the last thing Kakala would suspect.” He knelt on the hides beside Skimmer.
Chief Lookingbill inhaled a shaky breath and sat back on his hide. He gazed at Windwolf with watery brown eyes. “Go on.”
“Skimmer,” he said, and turned to her. She straightened beneath his gaze. “Tell me in the fewest words possible how you plan to kill the Prophet.”
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “I must do it.”
“You?” He remembered the brittle cracks in her soul, the way her hands shook, the desperation in her eyes over the last few days.
“Ti-Bish wants me.”
Lookingbill’s gaze narrowed. “He wants you?”