brought us together this day. Link hands, link hands, link hands with me. I ask for your breath, I give you mine.
Together our breaths rise to Above-Old-Man. He adds his breath to ours. Link hands, link hands, link hands with me now.
Breath was life. They could offer each other nothing more precious. Joy filled Kestrel.
To get a better look, she stepped sideways several paces-away from Lambkill. People filled in the opening she’d left, and she lost sight of him. She raised herself on her tiptoes to watch Wax wing over the shoulders of two men. One of the men, two or three summers older than she and very handsome, turned to look at her. He smiled. Kestrel, feeling joyous, returned the smile.
“You’re Waxwing’s best friend, aren’t you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, we’ve been friends since we were four summers old.”
“I thought so. I’m Waxwing’s cousin, Snow Wind. Didn’t you just get married to the Trader, Lambkill?”
“Oh, yes. He’s …” She tried to see him to point him out, but she couldn’t find him and shrugged. “He’s over there somewhere.”
Snow Wind smiled. “He’s a very great man. He used to run the trading trails with my grandfather, Looncry. I’ve heard stories of Lambkill all my life. You’re very lucky to be his wife.”
Kestrel laughed at the compliment. “Yes, thank you, I know.”
Waxwing stood up, and Kestrel shifted, trying to see better, and tripped over a stone. Snow Wind politely grabbed her hand to steady her.
That’s when Lambkill came through the crowd, looking for her, smiling and talking to people on the way. When he saw her holding Snow Wind’s hand, he halted abruptly.
Kestrel turned, smiling as she reached out for her husband. But Lambkill stood as still as a carved soapstone statue. His gaze went from her to Snow Wind and back again. His expression had gone from that of a loving husband to that of a dangerous enemy in less than a heartbeat. In dismay, she jerked her hand from Snow Wind’s and stood rooted to the ground.
Lambkill came forward, stood between her and Snow Wind and said, “Your grandmother, Willowstem, has been looking for you, Kestrel. Go find her.”
“Where—where is she? I haven’t—”
“I said for you to go find her.”
His icy tone made her flinch as if she’d been struck. “Yes. Yes, I will.” Kestrel ran through the crowd, shouting her grandmother’s name, only to discover that Willowstem had not been looking for her at all. So confused that she didn’t know what to do, she started to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks as she shouldered her way back, looking for Lambkill.
By the time she found him, darkness had grown up around the edges of the village. A translucent blue light suffused the sky. Lambkill had been standing with Old Porcupine, but when she got close enough, he roughly grabbed her hand, said “good night,” and dragged her back toward their lodge in the juniper grove.
“Lambkill? You’re hurting me. Please—”
“You’ve been my wife for two moons and already you’re throwing yourself at other men.”
“That’s not true! I didn’t! Snow Wind—”
Lambkill turned and slapped her so hard that she let out a sharp cry of
shock. He leaned down, his nose only a handbreadth from hers, and hissed, “Listen to me, woman. My last wife tried to run away from me. Do you know where she is now?”
“She’s d-dead. She died from a fever.”
“She’s dead all right.” He slowly straightened up, a triumphant, gloating expression on his face. “No woman betrays me and gets away with it.”
“But, Lambkill, I’ve done nothing! I love you. I don’t—”
“Move!” Lambkill brutally shoved her along the path and into the deep shadows of the juniper grove.
They reached their lodge, and Lambkill pushed her through the hide door curtain so hard that she toppled across their mammoth-hide robes. The long, silken fur cushioned her fall, but it still hurt. She stayed on her stomach, afraid to move. Parfleches lined the walls, filled with dried meat, sunflower seeds, fragments of mammoth tusk and the special exotic trade goods that only Lambkill had the right to possess. The largest parfleche contained the elaborately carved bones of a strange fish that swam in the oceans far, far to the east. Painted hides decorated every wall, depicting hunting scenes.
Kestrel shivered in fear. “Lambkill? Please, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
Lambkill draped the door curtain carefully over its antler hook, making sure that nothing blocked the cold wind that swept up the slope. The juniper limbs creaked as they swung back and forth. Lambkill ordered, “Roll over.”