As long as warriors were out there, there would be no escape.
A loud thump gave them a start. Owl-eyed, they stared as yet another large rock hit the ground with a thud.
“What are they doing?” Mong asked.
“Sealing us in,” Goodeagle said breathlessly.
Rana, who sat against the wall to his right, asked, “What happened to us?”
“Windwolf just destroyed your war party.”
“We’re still alive,” Washani growled.
Goodeagle laughed; it was a low threatening sound, filled with self-loathing. “Not for long.”
“Do you think the others survived? Keresa and the war chief?”
“Pray they’re dead, Washani. If they lived, right now they’re being sealed up in rock tombs.”
The end would be long and difficult. They’d die from thirst first, but not before desperate men began killing their friends to drink their blood for the moisture it contained. Then they’d eat the meat … until only one man remained.
Windwolf found Dipper kneeling by Silvertip’s side. She used a piece of damp hide to sponge the bulging lump on the side of the boy’s head.
“You had a close call,” he told her, kneeling opposite. “When I saw you running toward the fighting, my heart almost stopped.”
“It was Silvertip,” she said, sniffing. Her round face was tear-streaked, panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what possessed him. He knew the orders. He was supposed to stay safe!”
Windwolf carefully turned the boy’s head, pressing gently with his fingers. “There’s a lot of swelling, but I don’t think the skull is crushed.”
“Will he live?”
He winced at the pain and worry in her voice.
“Dipper, I honestly don’t know. Head wounds, well, they’re hard to judge. For now, the best you can do is keep him quiet. Make sure that his body is warm, and use that cold compress on the wound.”
She nodded, her hands shaking. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But for you, they would have had us both.”
“You and Silvertip were very brave.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t feel brave.”
“That is generally the way of it.”
A worried voice called, “Windwolf?”
He turned, seeing Ashes, some terrible distress behind her large brown eyes.
“What’s wrong, Ashes?”
“It’s Mother,” she said, on the point of tears. “She’s gone.”
Skimmer bent under the weight of her pack, keeping to the low ground. She stopped when the sound of the fighting grew. Windwolf was springing his trap.
“May you win, War Chief.” And keep Ashes safe!
She blinked back tears as she remembered her daughter’s stunned expression.
Ashes’ desperate pleading still rang in her ears. “No! Mother, don’t leave me!”
“I had to, baby. This is the only way to ensure your future.”
If she could do this thing, kill Ti-Bish, the heart would fade from the Nightland People. Their warriors would slip away, and her people could return to their lands once again.
It will all be over. And I will have saved us all.
She cast one last wistful glance over her shoulder. Then she turned her head back to the route. As she hurried along, her heart felt as if it were breaking. Ashes’ face filled her thoughts. Every instinct told her to run back, to gather her daughter into her arms and never let her go.
But Ashes would be safe in Headswift Village. As safe as she would be anywhere. Windwolf would see to that. The man took his obligations seriously.
Now it’s up to me. When she completed her task, if she lived, she would find her way back to Ashes.
She repeated the words she had told the girl. “I’ll be back. I promise you. And then it will all be over. We can bury our dead, and grieve, and build ourselves a new life.”
The way led along a drainage that wound through rocks. Stands of spruce and willows provided additional cover. From her calculations, if she continued, she should cross the trail that led back toward the Nightland villages.
You didn’t trust me, Windwolf. Well, the decision is no longer yours to make. As she hurried along, memories of Hookmaker’s body, of Blue Wing crying after the traitor Goodeagle had tired of her, and of the women in the pen fueled her anger.
She could imagine Ti-Bish’s face as if it had been yesterday. She could see his large round eyes, the thin and pinched expression. He had looked up at her with a worship-filled gratitude, as if her kindness touched his very soul.
She would see him again, and look into his eyes as she drove some sharp pointed weapon between his ribs and through his foul heart.
What turned you into a monster?