“You mean he wanted to be rid of me, don’t you?” Fledgling looked miserable.
Cornsilk used her charred poker to draw slithering black designs on the sandstone around her feet. They resembled a nest of baby snakes. “You or me.”
“Maybe he didn’t wish to give me up, but someone told him he had to.”
“Who?” Cornsilk scoffed. “Only an idiot would dare to tell the War Chief to get rid of his child.”
“An idiot or someone more powerful than the War Chief.”
Cornsilk had to fight to keep from pulling the pack from behind her back. The turquoise-studded blanket had been filling her dreams, as if it had a soul, and were struggling to speak with her. “Who?”
Fledgling leaned toward her to breathe, “Crow Beard. Ironwood would have done anything the Chief ordered him to.”
“It’s possible, but why would the Blessed Sun demand such a thing?”
“Incest?”
Fear fluttered in her chest. “No.” She shook her head. “If incest were involved, they would have just killed the child. Or—”
“Maybe it wasn’t incest,” Fledgling said. “Maybe Ironwood mated with one of the First People. A child from such a union would bring great shame on the First People.”
Cornsilk studied the roasting rabbit legs. That actually made sense. She turned and squinted at her brother. “Which of the First People at Talon Town would stoop to coupling with a lowly Bear Clan man?”
Fledgling frowned into his cup. “I’ve only met one of the First People in my life,” he said. “Do you remember him?”
“Who?”
“The Blessed Webworm. He hasn’t come in many summers, but he used to stop at Lanceleaf once every other spring. I remember because Father laughed a lot at the stories Webworm told.”
Cornsilk searched her memory. Many old friends, both male and female, surprised her parents with visits. “Wait … was he a warrior?”
“Yes.”
Cornsilk’s thoughts soured. She did remember him. He used to look at her very strangely—as though she were a grown woman instead of a child. He had frightened her. When Webworm visited, Cornsilk had always stayed very close to her mother. “Perhaps he came to keep an eye on you, or me?”
“I don’t know, but—”
They both jumped when a man stepped out of the shadows, tall and muscular, with two short braids that fell to his broad shoulders. He took another step toward them, and firelight gleamed along the yellow threads in his long shirt, as if he were netted all over with a web of flame.
“Stone Forehead!” Fledgling yelled as he leaped to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
The warrior trudged forward. “I have been tracking you since early yesterday morning.” Dirt caked his face.
“Why?”
Stone Forehead crouched by the fire and extended his hands to warm them. “I am on my way to Talon Town, and your parents asked me to check on you, to make certain you had reached your relatives’ villages. At the split in the road, I knew you’d had other plans.” He shook a finger at no one in particular. “Which one of you decided to climb through every rock outcrop on the way here? I nearly broke my ankle!”
Fledgling glanced at Cornsilk.
“Well,” she said, “we didn’t wish anyone to track us. How did you?”
Stone Forehead smiled. “Every so often the yucca bottoms of your sandals left a light-colored scratch on the sandstone. But it took me forever to work out your trail.”
Cornsilk grumbled, “I knew we should have worn our moccasins.”
“They don’t turn the cactus as well as sandals,” Fledgling said, “and we waded through a thorny sea today.”
“Are you hungry, Stone Forehead?” Cornsilk asked, and gestured to the half-butchered rabbit in the tree. “We could cut off another leg for you.”
“No.” He held up a hand. “I have been chewing jerky for the past hand of time. But I could use some of that delicious-smelling tea.”
Cornsilk said, “Where’s your cup?”
He shrugged out of his pack, unlaced the top, and dug around until he found it, then bent forward, filled it, and drank. Steam bathed his face. He refilled his cup and drank some more. “This is very good,” he said.
Fledgling smiled.
Cornsilk, however, watched him glumly. Her parents had said they wanted to hire him to go to Talon Town to monitor happenings there and notify them if Crow Beard died. Her parents must also have feared Cornsilk might do something unpredictable—as was her habit. On the one hand, their concern warmed Cornsilk’s heart, and on the other …