clawed and chewed. Sumac squeezed her sponge out over Sunchaser’s bitten legs.
“Blessed Above-Old-Man,” Sumac whispered, “I’d bet he has lost enough blood to fill a small pond.”
Horseweed said, “When we found him, the pine duff around him was sodden with it.”
Sumac shook her old head and sighed. “It’s no wonder he’s unconscious. He’s lucky, he is. Keeps him from feeling the pain. Well, he just needs proper care. He’ll be all right. Kestrel, I’ll wash his legs if you’ll finish up his chest and arms.”
Kestrel nodded, dipped her sponge again and gently started cleaning Sunchaser’s left arm. Less severely wounded than the right, it took her almost no time to wash the bites there. Red blood flowed anew from the gashes. She wrung out her sponge and soaked it in the greasewood brew, preparing to start on Sunchaser’s lacerated chest.
Through the corner of her eye, she saw Harrier push forward to stand on the opposite side of the fire. He fixed Kestrel with a look of loathing, his head tipped down and his massive brow shadowing his eyes. “Are you Kestrel?” he demanded. “Lambkill’s wife?”
Softly, she answered, “I was,” as she painstakingly washed each claw gash on Sunchaser’s broad, muscular chest.
Harrier bellowed, “Did you kill my brother?”
Kestrel stared at him uncomprehending. “Your brother?”
“Buffalo Bird! He was killed on the Oakcreek Trail—high in the hills. His murderer drove a tapir-bone stiletto through his heart. Did you do it?”
“Yes, I killed him.” Kestrel’s voice had a curiously far-off timbre, like that of a child awakened from a dream and not wholly in this world.
The people broke out in furious conversation. Their fire lit faces showed shock and bewilderment. Even Horseweed swiveled to peer at her.
Harrier roared, “Oxbalm! She admitted the murder! I now put in a claim on this woman. I ask that you grant me the
right to take her back to my village so she may be judged by the Blackwater Draw council!”
The possibility didn’t affect Kestrel at all. As long as Cloud Girl and Sunchaser were safe, what happened to her made little difference. She wet her sponge again and leaned over Sunchaser to clean his right arm further. This time the thick crust of blood and pine needles melted beneath her warm sponge, revealing a deep slit. The wound had swollen and turned violet around the edges, but it didn’t start bleeding again, much to her relief.
“Just a moment,” Oxbalm replied. He moved to stand directly behind Sumac. To Kestrel, he said, “Why did you kill Buffalo Bird?”
Kestrel responded, “He told me that Lambkill had offered a reward for me. He started dragging me toward his camp. In the process, he told me that I would provide pleasure for him and his brothers—and that if I wasn’t Kestrel, he and his brothers would kill me after they had raped me. That way, the Otter Clan would never know that one of their relations—a lone woman—had been raped and murdered. My death would stop a war, Buffalo Bird said. I was defending myself.”
Sumac threw Kestrel a knowing glance, and Kestrel bowed her head and clenched her jaw. Sumac seemed to understand that Lambkill had offered a reward for Kestrel, but nothing for her daughter. Did Sumac guess that Buffalo Bird had seen Cloud Girl as a worthless nuisance? It didn’t matter. Kestrel could not mention Cloud Girl. Not even in her own defense, not without endangering her daughter.
Lambkill let out a low, disbelieving laugh that turned Kestrel’s blood to ice. Against her will, she started to shake again. The seashells on the front of her dress quivered, reflecting the firelight with a stunning radiance. To soothe herself, Kestrel dipped her sponge and began washing Sunchaser’s handsome face. Just looking at him eased her terror. Could his Spirit see her? She thought it might. She sensed his presence around her like a protective shield. But Kestrel shivered anyway, unable to stop.
Lambkill laughed louder, pleased by her fear. Boldly, he shoved Tannin out of his way and walked around the fire. Kestrel counted each of his calculated steps, five, six, seven, eight, nine … Horseweed shifted to stand in front of her, his atlatl in his hand, ready. Lambkill looked at the youth as he might regard a slab of maggot-ridden meat. “Get out of my way, boy! You’ve no right to keep me from my wife!”
“I’ll move,” Horseweed answered calmly, “when she asks me to.”
Kestrel swallowed the lump in her throat. Horseweed didn’t know her, yet he bravely stood between her and Death. Iceplant had been right about the Otter Clan. They were honorable people.