Beyond the tent, Father’s voice still had that sibilant quality. He wished he could see what was going on. He’d only been blind for two moons. It frustrated him not to be able to see facial expressions.
He leaned his head against the doorframe. Yellow flashes played behind his eyes as they had since that night. Yellow flashes, tongues of fire, forever burned into his last vision.
He’d been sitting at Mother’s side in Grandfather’s Salmon Village lodge. Her entire family—brothers, sisters, parents, and grandparents—had been there. He had gone with Mother that night. Once again he remembered the worry he had felt when Grandfather, a stern old man with snowy hair and an age-lined face, had said, “The time has come for us to leave this place.”
Tsauz had felt a bolt of fear run through him. He had lived his entire life on Fire Mountain. Why would they go? He had looked around the lodge again, wondering why Father was not present, too.
“It must be done with great care,” Grandfather had said. “No one must know. Tomorrow, when the sun rises, they must find our lodge empty. We must be ever careful to leave no trail.”
Tsauz remembered the concern with which everyone had looked first at Mother, and then at him. Their pity hadn’t made sense to him, any more than had Mother’s excuse that she had fallen while hauling water, and that that was how she’d gotten so badly bruised and dislocated her arm.
Grandmother had looked at him and said, “He will be coming for the boy. We must all remember that.”
Tsauz had been about to ask who would be coming when a strange fire had literally exploded in the lodge entrance. No one really knew what had happened, or what made it burn so hot, but a spark must have caught in the dry bark roof.
The blaze had been bright and hot. Tsauz ran his fingers over the scars on the backs of his hands. Had he ever felt such pain? After that, not even Father’s beatings hurt.
A man’s hand had grabbed him from behind and dragged him outside. He’d caught a glimpse of Red Dog before the man ran away into the darkness. The last thing he’d ever seen was Mother’s face peeling and shriveling as her hair burned.
Tsauz let out a pained breath. He kept that image locked deep in a secret place in his soul. When he felt lonely or afraid, he pulled it out and looked into her eyes again—frightened eyes, filled with desperation to save him.
Tsauz shifted, and his head brushed the sloping roof. Though only ten summers had passed since his birth, Tsauz had grown tall. He had a long narrow face with a pointed chin and shoulder-length black hair that had grown out after being singed short in places.
Outside the lodge, an unknown man whispered, “What do you wish us to do, Starwatcher?”
Tsauz could hear fir needles crackling as Father paced back and forth. He knew that careful, measured tread. Before he’d gone blind, he’d seen Father pace often enough before their lodge at Fire Village.
“We carry out the plan,” Father said.
A brief silence. Then the man said, “But, Starwatcher, we can’t possibly win.”
“Yes,” Father hissed, “we can.”
“But how?” That was White Stone.
“By misdirection, deceit, and surprise.”
Tsauz wondered what misdirection and deceit were. He hadn’t heard those words before.
Father continued, “Antler Spoon’s village plays a role in this great hoax. The bulk of our forces are headed that way as we speak. Suspicion will be allayed while they circle, working their way on stealthy feet.” A pause, and then Father’s voice almost sounded joyous. “I can hear the gathering of raven wings, my friends. And they shall be blown away by a great northern wind!”
Grab the wind! the Dream voice echoed inside Tsauz.
Feet shifted, and several conversations broke out.
Father’s voice suddenly burned with rage. “Do not ever let me hear you say we can’t win again. Do you understand? Now take the remaining warriors and begin your circle. Make certain everything has been prepared for War Gods Village. And do not allow yourselves to be discovered.” A pause. “I will be most displeased if that happens. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Starwatcher.”
Steps padded away from the fire: One man at first, then many followed.
Runner snuggled against Tsauz’s leg and whimpered. When Tsauz reached down to pet him, the puppy wagged his tail and pawed the ground. Runner had a black body with a white face and spotted ears.
Tsauz patted the little dog on the head. “Shhh, Runner, I’m trying to hear Father.”
Runner may not have understood the words, but he knew a reprimand when he heard it. He circled on the blanket and curled against Tsauz’s side, then propped his chin on top of Tsauz’s thigh.