Badgertail stumbled over the platter as he rose and lunged for her hand. "Nightshade, please ..." They stood toe to toe, staring at each other. She glanced down at his hand, holding hers in a hard grip, then scanned his face, waiting. "If you Dream anything . . . could you . . . I'm not asking that you help me, but there are people out there, many of them children, who don't deserve what's coming."
Desperation taunted him. He needed her help—but she would never help him. His gaze traced the smooth line of her jaw, remembering how she had looked as a child: terrified, clinging to his warshirt for entire days and nights while they skulked through the swamps to find the Black Warrior River. He had never meant to hurt her. He had only been trying to save his people. Impulsively, Badgertail gently caressed a lock of Nightshade's hair. She had grown into such a beautiful woman . . .
Nightshade shivered, as though cold. Instinctively, he lifted an arm, then hesitated to slip it around her shoulders, letting it hover awkwardly. For several agonizing moments, she held his gaze. Then her eyes changed, going soft and more vulnerable than he had ever seen them. She took a step forward and eased into his arms.
"Just hold me," she said.
He pulled her close. The scent of her hair and the feel of her breasts against his chest left him off balance. How long had it been since he had held a woman? Twenty cycles? Yes—^Two Tassels. But it hadn't been like this. Holding Nightshade comforted him deep down, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. He brushed his chin over her hair, and for a timeless moment let himself drown in the feel of her body against his. Why had she asked him for this? Was she as lonely as he was? As worried about tomorrow?
Slowly, fearful of her response, he leaned down and kissed her. The touch of her lips against his sent a fiery wash through his veins.
Nightshade pulled back. Her eyes searched his face. "Bulrush still lives in my soul, Badgertail. But ... I thank you."
He straightened. "Let me walk you back to the temple."
"It's not necessary."
"But I think it wise. The village is confused. Tempers are running wild—if you'll recall the reaction upon your arrival. You might need me."
She inclined her head. "Thank you."
Badgertail walked at her side, parting the net of sparkflies that glittered above the grass. Tomorrow he would have to sit down with Tharon and Black Birch and lay out his final plan for annihilating Petaga's army. If he could just get to the chiefs of the northern villages, especially the larger ones such as Bladdemut and Henfoot, he might be able to end this before it boiled into full-scale warfare. Perhaps he could even talk sense into White Clover Mounds; they had at least four hundred warriors. Petaga would never bargain as long as he had superior numbers, but if Badgertail could equal the odds, he might.
Badgertail found himself watching Nightshade's hair flutter in the wind. And something soothed in his troubled soul.
In a hidden valley to the north, nine hundred warriors camped, their robes thrown on the soft grass. The pungent scents of sweating bodies and human wastes pricked the breeze, wafting up to the guards who stood on the bluff, silhouetted against the moonlight.
Petaga clapped his hands as he peered over the crackling camp fu-e at Hailcloud. Moon Maiden's glow illuminated the war leader's face, shadowing his eyes and mouth. "That's three hundred more, Hailcloud! With Red Star on our side, that makes twelve hundred. We can do it. V^e can heat Badgertail!"
Hailcloud's brows drew down over his slender nose. "I pray that you are right, my Chief."
Petaga's joy died at the apprehension in that voice. "You don't think so?"
"Maybe. If we can keep our warriors together. They come from so many different clans." He gestured weakly. "I don't know. It will be a trial. We still must recruit more warriors and gather supplies quickly, praying that we haven't lost the element of surprise. And I think we have."
"Why?"
"Too many people escaped our attack on Spiral Mounds. Any one of them could have fled to Cahokia. I fear, my Chief, that Badgertail has already started assembling his warriors."
Petaga lowered his eyes and squinted at the wavering flames. The orange light drenched the brush around them like thick amber resin. "What will Badgertail's strategy be? Can you guess?"
Hailcloud lifted a burly shoulder. "Were I him? I would make a play for all the unaligned chiefs. Every small village we haven't approached yet, and those that have refused to join us—^they'd be my target. I would tell them that the chiefdom was at stake and that they had to choose sides."
"And if they refuse? As most did our offer."
Hailcloud propped a fist on his knee. "He's Badgertail. The small villages will go rigid with terror the moment they see him coming." He fixed Petaga with stony black eyes. "They'll either flee instantly or want to please him."