Horseweed grinned broadly, making a gesture that subtly changed his position, freeing the arm that held the atlatl and nocked dart. “Go ahead. The dog is Sunchaser’s Spirit Helper. You’ll probably lose your sight, or go deaf, before you can even get close to Helper!”
Harrier ranted, “If this is Sunchaser’s dog, where is Sunchaser?”
Neither Horseweed nor Kestrel responded, and Harrier brandished his atlatl at Helper, trying to make the animal get out of his path. Helper barked and bared his teeth.
“Good boy, Helper,” Horseweed whispered, for Kestrel’s ears alone. Then he added, “That old woman running in front of the others, that’s my grandmother—the woman I told you about. Her name is Sumac.”
Kestrel let out a shuddering breath and prepared herself.
Sumac ran forward and grabbed Horseweed to hug him. “You found her! You’re a good tracker, Grandson.” When she released Horseweed, she stepped hesitantly toward Kestrel.
Kestrel reached out, took her withered hand and held it tightly. “My name is Kestrel. I’m hoping very much that I’m related to you, Sumac.”
To Kestrel’s surprise, Sumac squeezed her hand. “So am I. I found your little girl. She’s going to be all right. I promise you that.”
Tears welled in Kestrel’s eyes. Softly she said, “I knew you’d take care of her. Bless you. But, please, Sumac. I don’t want Lambkill to know she’s my daughter. He’ll never leave her alone. He’ll find a way to kill her.”
“Then he’ll never know,” Sumac whispered and started to turn to Horseweed, but when she saw Sunchaser lying on the travois behind Kestrel, she gasped and screamed, “Oxbalm! Oh, Mother Ocean, no. Hurry. It’s Sunchaser! He’s hurt!”
A roar went up from the crowd. Everyone in the village rushed forward in a dark wave … except Lambkill and Tannin. They remained standing by the fire. Tannin had placed a restraining hand on Lambkill’s forearm again, while he spoke in a low voice. Kestrel wished she could hear what Tannin was saying. His forehead had furrowed deeply, while Lambkill’s jaw clenched. Sumac pushed between Horseweed and Kestrel and crouched by Sunchaser’s side. A groan escaped her lips
when she pulled back his tattered shirt and saw the bloody slashes across his chest. “Blessed Spirits, what happened, Horseweed? Was it a bear?”
Oxbalm ran past Horseweed and straight to Sunchaser. His sharp intake of breath silenced the rest of the crowd. “Quickly,” he ordered. “We must get him over to the fire so we can tend his wounds. Hurry!”
Horseweed slipped his dart back into his quiver and settled his atlatl through his belt. He lifted the travois again. “Kestrel,” he asked, “do you want to walk at my side?”
“Yes,” she answered gratefully and saw that he gazed at her with resolute courage. “Thank you.”
She walked forward, and Horseweed tugged the travois toward the fire. Harrier glared hatefully at Kestrel as she passed. Her knees shook, but she kept her head high and clutched the hook of her atlatl in a death grip.
People crowded around them, murmuring as they gazed wide-eyed at’ Sunchaser. Someone in the crowd began to cry. Oxbalm caught up with Horseweed and asked, “How long has Sunchaser been like this, Grandson?”
“I don’t know. I saw Kestrel in the forest and followed her. She was running after Helper. The dog led us both to Sunchaser. From the way his blood had clotted, I’d guess he’d been attacked one, maybe two hands of time earlier.”
“Do you think it was a bear?”
“It could have been a lion, or a saber-toothed cat, or even…” Horseweed faltered. His mouth hung open. Why hadn’t it occurred to him earlier? The thought terrified him so much that he could barely speak the words: “Or a… a wolf, Grandfather. Maybe a dire wolf.” Oxbalm looked up at him and nodded. His bushy gray brows lowered. “That’s what I feared.”
Sumac, who had overheard their quiet exchange, whispered, “He wouldn’t dare attack Sunchaser… would he? Where would he find the courage?”
Kestrel asked, “Do you mean Catchstraw? Sunchaser said—”
“Shh!” Sumac jerked Kestrel’s arm hard to silence her and glanced over her shoulder at another old woman who walked not far behind. “Yucca Thorn is one of Catchstraw’s admirers.”
The skinny old hag had her head cocked, listening with the intensity of Coyote hunting for the sound of Mouse moving beneath the snow. Kestrel wondered what she would do if she’d caught the gist of their conversation. Would she warn Catchstraw about their suspicions? Give him time to defend himself? Or time to kill all of them before they could publicly accuse him of being a witch? Blood surged hotly through Kestrel’s veins. Who would want to see Sunchaser hurt? She’d strangle the evil one with her own hands.