“My throat?”
The stranger let out a hoarse cry that froze them both in their tracks. He’d opened his arms to the sky again, as though greeting a long-lost loved one descending from the clouds.
Balsam squinted. “What’d he do that for?”
“How would I know?”
The stranger let out another cry, long and breathless, like Wolf on a blood trail. Then he shouted, “Go away, boys! I don’t want you here. I don’t want anybody here. Leave me alone!” Turning on his heel, he disappeared into the cave.
Horseweed swallowed the lump in his throat. “He’s one loony old man. He’s got to be the reason the mammoths have gone crazy. No telling what he’s done to the Dream Cave. I’ll bet he’s defiled every sacred object in the place.”
“Then we’d better get him out of there. Quick.”
Movement caught Horseweed’s eye, and he barely had time to scream “Run!” before the darts started zizzing past his ears. The stranger, back at the mouth of the cave, cast another and another dart. Horseweed raced for the trees, his pack flopping on his back, and dove headfirst into a mound of deadfall. Limbs cracked and showered him with splinters as he jostled to get behind a log from which he could safely peer back at the cave. Two more darts struck, twanging in the deadfall in front of his face.
Balsam crawled up beside him, eyes wide. “How can one man nock darts so quickly and still keep his aim?”
“He’s good, all right.” Balsam nervously wet his lips. “Maybe … maybe he’s not a man, Horseweed. Did you think of that? Maybe he’s the ghost. Do you remember how Catchstraw said that ghosts wait for warm flesh?”
“Well, I wish he’d come down here and try to’ take mine. That way, I could dart him up close. But he doesn’t seem any too anxious to get near us.” Horseweed bent forward to peer through the weave of dead limbs. The stranger had vanished again. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What?”
“See those big boulders on top of the pink cliff? The ones that hang out over the Dream Cave? Come on. We’ll sleep on top of them tonight, then tomorrow morning—”
“On top of the rocks?” Balsam objected. “It’ll be colder than an elk’s hoof in winter up there! Why can’t we sleep here in the meadow?”
Horseweed got on all fours and carefully began to crawl out of the deadfall. Twigs crackled with his every movement. “Well, you go right ahead. But in the dark, I won’t be able to see well enough to dart that dog before it sinks its teeth into you.”
Nine
The crimson twilight of the Moon-of-Blossoms had flushed the world with color. Tannin walked across the top of the bluff in a halo of pink light, heading toward the place where Lambkill stood. His older brother had a foot propped on a rock while he gazed out at the swollen, dirty river. The cool evening breeze flapped the fringes on his sleeves and pant legs. Far below, flecks of scarlet twinkled on the surface of the muddy water.
Tannin inhaled deeply, hoping that the strong scents of damp juniper and sage would ease his anxiety. Lambkill had grown progressively worse since Kestrel’s escape. Tracking her through the rain had been very difficult. The painstaking process had frustrated Tannin, but Lambkill’s rage seemed to feed on it. Every time that Lambkill had found a fringe from her dress hanging on a bush, or picked up a twig she’d broken in her flight, he’d peered at Tannin with glassy eyes, his face running with sweat.
Then this afternoon, when they’d discovered the places where the sage had been twisted out of the ground, Lambkill had gone ominously silent. He’d crisscrossed the area until he found the wing walls. Then he’d stalked down them and peered over the cliff at the tapir skeletons. He’d stood for a
long while just staring, refusing to answer any questions that Tannin had asked.
After a full finger of time, Lambkill had started shaking uncontrollably. Frightened, Tannin had tried to help his brother, to get him to sit down, but Lambkill had roared and struck out with his fists, beating Tannin away. Only then did Tannin realize the terrible extent of his brother’s fury.
“The quails are cooked,” Tannin said.
Lambkill didn’t even move. He kept his eyes focused on the churning river.
“Come and eat, Lambkill. We must eat and sleep. Tomorrow we’ll get started early.”
In a bare whisper, Lambkill said, “Do you see her?”
“Who?” Tannin frowned. He saw nothing but flocks of birds on the shore. A flurry of wings moved on the beach, their feathers reddish in the fading rays of dusk. Farther out in the water, fish jumped, hunting the insects that swarmed over the glistening surface. “Who, Lambkill?”