Keresa glanced up at the sky, then pinned him with cold eyes. “It’s guilt.”
Kakala turned to scowl at her. “Remind me to punish you for being insolent.”
“I’ll bring it up next time I find you in a cage.”
Kakala hesitated for a few more heartbeats. “Do you see that woman in the pretty doehide dress?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“You’re going to capture her. I’ll get the old man. One of them is bound to be valuable to somebody.”
He stood up, lifted his atlatl, and yelled a shrill war cry.
From everywhere warriors reared up from the rocks, leaped out of their hiding places, and flooded toward the village.
Two tens of warriors headed straight for the Sunpath People, screaming war cries. Keresa heard Goodeagle, coming from behind, screaming, “No! In the Guide’s name, no!”
With amazing speed, the Sunpath People grabbed their children and vanished around the base of the boulders. The soft reverberations of screams and pounding feet carried on the wind.
“Victory!” Kakala cried as he charged up the slope on his thick legs.
She followed, but her gaze kept straying to the cloudy sky, expecting to see something monstrous and black swooping down upon them.
Deep in his rocky warren, Silvertip heard the shout of a warrior. Immediately, screams broke out on the still air. A chorus of war whoops and cries followed.
It is time. But he huddled, frightened and shaking. His tongue had gone thick, stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Clamping his eyes shut, he whispered, “I don’t want to die.”
“It is time,” Wolf’s voice insisted softly from the air around him.
He didn’t remember rising to his feet, or tottering out to the entrance. He blinked, half-blinded by the light, picked up a fist-sized rock, and hurried out onto the trail that led down to where warriors were running up through the boulders. His mother screamed somewhere behind him.
“I’m going to die,” he kept repeating. Tears were leaking down his round cheeks, and the sobbing made it difficult to run.
Keresa charged straight for the woman in the doehide dress; the screaming children scattered, fleeing into the rockshelters.
The woman, running like a panicked deer, rounded a big boulder. Keresa frowned, staring at the rock formation. She could see no way out. It had to be a dead end. She was smiling as she slowed, expecting to find the woman cowering against a sheer stone wall.
Kakala shouted, “Degan, take ten men and pursue them into their hiding places! I want as many captives as you can catch. Kill anyone who’s trouble!”
Goodeagle pounded toward them, shouting, “Go back! It’s a trap! Pull back!”
Keresa hesitated. What’s he yammering on about?
The warriors—grinning like wolves on a blood trail—had already ducked into the mouths of the rockshelters.
Only heartbeats later, new cries erupted, but they were not the cries of women and children, rather the cries of surprised warriors.
Keresa spun around.
Nightland warriors came flooding back out. Most had darts sticking in their bodies. Three warriors collapsed on the trail, screaming, while their wounded friends ran around them, trying to get away from the hail of darts that sailed after them. Five more men fell before they reached the safety of the rocks.
Goodeagle had stopped, his expression that of dismay.
Then, all along the rim above, whooping Sunpath warriors appeared and began casting darts down at the Nightland warriors milling below the rocks.
For one startled instant, Keresa froze. It’s a trap!
“Pull back!” Kakala yelled. And Keresa saw a dart whistle past his ear to splinter on a boulder before him.
“They’re behind us!” she cried, turning, seeing a line of advancing Lame Bull warriors. Even as she watched, the men nocked darts, bending their bodies into the deadly release.
“This way!” Keresa called, charging full tilt down a trail that led to the west. She could hear feet pounding behind her. A dart hissed past her shoulder, splintering on a rock to her right.
At least two of the warriors had taken captives, but they were hiding them in the rocks below.
In that instant, a boy of perhaps twelve stepped out of the rocks. Keresa had a momentary glimpse of his face, tear-streaked, his mouth racked with sobs. She watched as he drew back, and launched a rock straight at her. She ducked to the side, grabbed up her war club where it bobbed on her belt, and hammered the boy with a side-handed blow. She felt the smacking impact, saw his head jerk sideways under the impact, and charged past.
As she did, a woman emerged from a narrow trail, full into Kakala’s path. He barely hesitated as he grabbed the screaming woman, spun her around, and propelled her forward.