Gopher snorted. "Plantroot has gotten so old he's feebleminded. Don't listen to him!" The other elders in the circle eyed Gopher scornfully, but he didn't seem to notice. "Red Star Mounds has many great warriors who can lead us to victory tomorrow. You all know their names: Valley Boy, Frogleg, False Face ..."
One by one, the council members rose, bowed to Petaga, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the tawny halo cast by the fire. When the last one had gone, Petaga tiredly stood up, too. Spoonbill rose beside him.
"The matter has been decided. Gopher," Petaga announced. "We will wait another day before we attack. In the meantime, we'll send out runners to see what's happening at Cahokia and White Clover Mounds. Perhaps by tomorrow night we'll even have reports on Elkhom's party, or maybe about Badgertail."
Gopher didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed. Petaga turned and walked away. Spoonbill's tall form on his heels. Hostility lingered in the darkness, waiting to pounce with Eagle's talons. Petaga placed his feet carefully, crossing the barren stone as quietly as Lynx, as though his very caution could give him some measure of protection.
When they had descended into the cloaking shadows of the rocks clustered around the spring. Spoonbill murmured, "He's going to be trouble. We'd better watch him."
"I know. I wish your father were here."
"Tomorrow. He'll be here by nightfall."
Petaga cast a glance over his shoulder. Gopher still sat hunched forward over the dwindling flames of the council fire.
Now you will please Man Eagle, eh, great woman warrior?"
The four youths anxiously waiting their turns around the fire laughed as Man Eagle untied his breechclout and let it fall to the dirt. He had a broken nose and arms as big around as her waist.
Locust locked her trembling jaw when Man Eagle dropped on top of her and opened her limp legs so he could shove himself inside. Her vagina burned.
Grunting, Man Eagle brutally groped her wounded breasts as he thrust. "Oh, yes, that's good." The blisters that covered her legs and arms shrieked in pain. "There, see? Man Eagle will make it good for you. Women throughout the chiefdom fight for the attention of Man Eagle. I'll make the last night of your life the best. Yes . . ."he breathed in her ear. "I'll let these others have their chance, then I'll be back. You and me, we'll be happy all night."
Locust turned her face away. Most of the camp slept. People, rolled in blankets, dotted the scrub thickets, while lookouts roamed the high places. Their dark forms wavered in the moonglow. Hailcloud had gone to bed two hands of time ago, leaving her to his warriors, hoping that if torture wouldn't break her iron will, rape might. She had lost count of the number of men who had taken her.
At first she had fought, but the effort had only provided more entertainment, and the rawhide straps encircling her wrists and ankles to spread-eagle her body had cut deep gashes into her flesh. Her whole body flamed in agony. Even her throat had gone raw from screaming.
She had been trying not to think of Primrose, of what he would do without her—^because it broke her heart. She could endure losing people she loved. She had lost so many in her cycles as a warrior that her soul had woven an impervious inner sanctuary to which she could retreat until the worst pain had passed. But Primrose would never get over her death. His gentle and tender-hearted spirit would dwindle. The thought of his anguish wounded her more terribly than all of the torture she'd lived through on this night.
Man Eagle began moving faster while he panted warmly against her throat. "Yes, almost there. These other fools . . . might not have been able to do it, but Man Eagle will plant a child in your belly."
The gleaming eyes of the waiting warriors sharpened in the firelight, eager, impatient. She felt Man Eagle's release before he sagged atop her. The next man in line, Wildcat, smiled. Seventeen summers at the most, he had a strong, heavily tattooed body. Red serpents wound up through a blue maze from his navel to his breasts, where their flat heads rested beneath his nipples.
"I will be back. Locust," Man Eagle whispered against her cheek. "Soon. Before Hanged Woman crosses the midpoint in the sky."
Laughing, he stood and retied his breechclout. "Go on— but she's so full of my seed, there's no room for yours," he said as he gestured to Wildcat. The youth stumbled in his hurry to undress and brought forth peals of laughter from his friends.
Wildcat climbed on top of her, and the lances of pain began again. With all of her strength she fought to abandon her body by forcing her soul to concentrate on the beauty of the night.
Tatters of cloud, black and opaque, coasted through the indigo sky along the southern horizon. The irregular rents in the clouds picked up the starlight and gleamed with a gossamer fire like pale, silver eyes in the blackness, looking down on the camp's enclosure . . .