“I liked them.”
“You must have.Your escape at Star Tree Camp, however, was brilliant.” She gave him a small smile.
He smiled back, as though he saw right into her soul. “I didn’t know you were so devoted to me, Deputy.”
She lifted a shoulder. At Star Tree they’d had his warriors boxed tight in a narrow valley, outnumbered five to one. Rather than surrendering like any sane war chief who knows he’s lost, Windwolf stationed eight warriors in strategic locations, then stampeded a herd of buffalo right through the middle of Kakala’s camp. When their warriors scattered in every direction, Windwolf’s people had picked them off like wingless ducks.
“You killed ten of our warriors that day,” Keresa said.
“I’m disappointed. I thought it was more.”
“Hopefully Wolf Dreamer heard that and will make sure your soul becomes a homeless ghost, wandering the forests forever.”
He tilted his head and smiled. “Wolf Dreamer, Deputy? I’ve heard that you follow a different Spirit.”
She ground her teeth. She’d always had what Kakala called “a noxious interest” in Sunpath beliefs. “I’m not a disbeliever.”
Windwolf laughed softly. “You’re a surprise, Deputy. Though I don’t see what that has to do—”
“Your vision is very limited, isn’t it?Yours and Goodeagle’s. Is that a Sunpath trait?”
He set his cup on a hearthstone and looked her over in detail.
At that moment, a boy, perhaps eight summers old, entered with a bark plate on which a thick section of elk backstrap rested. The aroma drifting off the hot meat sent the juices flowing in Keresa’s mouth.
“Bless you, War Chief,” the boy said in awe. “We saved the best for you.” Then he shot a worried glance at Keresa, and fled.
She took another long drink, letting the warm tea wash away her sudden craving for the meat. It didn’t work.
Windwolf extended the bark plate, setting it before her. “Oh, go ahead. If you’re going to escape, destroy me with the handful of warriors you have left, you’re going to need your strength.”
She lifted the piece of meat, tearing into it, trying not to look like a starved wolf, but failing, as the twinkle of amusement in Windwolf’s eyes communicated too well.
As she ate, he said, “Deputy, let’s discuss what you and I are doing here. I’m trying to protect both Sunpath and Lame Bull People from the brutal orders your Prophet, Council, or whoever, has been giving. I’d lie, cheat, steal, do anything, say anything, to kill him and every one of your clan Elders. I—”
“Leave the Guide out of it!” She cursed herself as that look of understanding glinted in his eyes.
He continued. “I’ve watched tens of tens of my people die under your darts, Deputy. Do you know what it’s like to witness old men, women, and helpless children running in terror before they’re slaughtered by warriors from the far north? Do you have any idea—”
Desperate rage smothered her. Unthinkingly, she rose to her knees and slammed a fist into the tripod, sending the tea bag splashing across the floor. “You just murdered two tens of my warriors, Windwolf! They’re lying in a pile, naked, hacked, and stabbed. Don’t be so righteous!”
He leaned forward tiredly, and his blue-painted shirt rustled in the sudden quiet. “And you’ve destroyed seven of our bands since last summer, Deputy. We kill warriors, not babies. Didn’t you ever feel a twinge of conscience murdering children?”
She sank to the hides again, hearing her own words in his mouth. “No warrior enjoys killing children.”
“Well, maybe the Nightland warriors are human after all. Some of my people have begun to whisper that you’re evil Spirits straight from the Long Dark that your Prophet preaches about.”
She gripped her cup hard and took another long drink. “Windwolf, what are you going to do with all the refugees here?”
“Find some way to feed them.”
“And then?”
“Explain.”
“I’m no fool. I suspect your warriors, what’s left of them, are on their way here right now.” Are they? “When they arrive, are you going to use me and my warriors as sacrificial offerings in the stead of our clan Elders?”
“Sunpath warriors have souls, Deputy, despite what you’ve heard.”
“Does that mean your men won’t rape me and torture my people?”
When she’d said the word rape, he’d flinched. Thinking about Bramble, no doubt.
Through a long exhalation, he said, “As to torture, that depends on whether or not you tell us what we need to know.”