People of the River(152)

"Like one of those turtles," she answered feebly.

Badgertail nodded. After a night of chafing in his shirt, her wounds must have been rubbed raw. "Pretty fiery, huh?"

"'Fraid so."

Badgertail looked down at her hands. Blood had clotted in thick circles around her wrists. Softly, he said, "I'm thinking about taking you home—myself."

Locust gazed at him steadily. "You would leave your warriors without guidance?"

"Whatever's happening out there, we're too far away to do anything about it. If we go home, we can gather the two hundred warriors guarding the palisades and return. We'll be of more use that way than ..."

Locust turned her face away from him, and he saw her jaw muscles jump. "You don't want me to say it, do you?"

He spread his hands wide. "What else can I do? Tell me."

"Take Bute's party and find Elkhom. He probably needs you desperately."

"And what about you?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I'll be fine here. In a few days, I'll have enough strength to walk home myself. Then you won't—"

"That's not true, and you know it. You're sick and getting worse."

They glared at each other, waging a silent battle of wills, until Locust looked away. Her expression said she knew that he was right—and she hated having to admit it.

Badgertail aimlessly scooped up sand and let it trickle through his fmgers. An uncomfortable stinging had started in his guts. Locust watched him worriedly.

He shook his head slowly. "I can't leave you, Locust."

"If I were another warrior, you'd go."

"You're not another warrior."

"Then assign Cloudshadow to take me home." In a whisper, she continued, "He's the least of these warriors. You can do without him. That way, you'll feel better about me and you can go on and do what you know you should." I "But, Locust, I—"

"Badgertail," Locust said with as much harshness as she could muster, "think of how you'll feel if you leave your forces and hundreds die because Elkhom or Black Birch makes some stupid mistake. I'm one person. There are over seven hundred warriors out there who need you more than I do."

The stinging in his gut grew, as if his intestines had decided to twist into knots. He gazed at her imploringly. In a bare whisper, he said, "But Locust—I'm afraid for you. Please. I want to make sure that you get home safely. Then I'll—"

"And if Elkhom is trapped somewhere? You may cost him—"

"All right!" Badgertail threw up his hands. But as he did, a tight band constricted around his heart. "I'll ... I'll assign Cloudshadow."

Weakly, Locust lifted her hand and patted his bare calf. "I'll be all right. It's only one day's walk from here."

He stared at her miserably. "Those turtles should be done. I'll get them."



Black Birch smiled his satisfaction as he rolled up his blanket. Things had gone well yesterday. They had captured one of Petaga's war parties and killed all of the wjirriors— even the last, who had groveled before Black Birch, pleading for mercy. Today they would head back north and see if they couldn't join up with Badgertail. What could have happened to him?

Every war party that had regrouped here had been attacked. Perhaps Badgertail hadn't fared as well as these other war leaders. Had something unexpected happened at Red-weed Village? Could a bunch of com farmers have thrashed the great Badgertail? Maybe even killed him? Well, Black Birch could lead the Cahokia forces just as expertly as Badgertail could. It made little difference.

Black Birch tied his rolled blanket to the back of his belt, then attached his war club and slung his quiver over his shoulder.

Warriors moved through the dawn around him. Their soft sounds rang through the morning stillness: clubs clattering against knives as they were tied to belts; strains of dialogue; arrows rattling as quivers were picked up.

Black Birch lifted his arms over his head to stretch his back muscles. The hard ground had been full of stones. He'd tossed and turned most of the night, trying to find a comfortable position.

Strands of light crept over the eastern horizon and twined through the transparent gleam of lavender that stretched halfway up the sky. Idly, he noted the positions of his lookouts. They hunched on the high spots overlooking the three major drainages that led into One Mound Village.

Odd, when they had entered One Mound yesterday, they had found it abandoned, forgotten possessions visible like ghostly sentries in the empty sockets of doorways and windows. The inhabitants had left so quickly that they hadn't even bothered to pack their stores of com. Black Birch's forces had raided every storage hut, filling their warriors' packs and stuffing themselves at dinner last night.