Ahead of her, billowing black clouds hovered above Lanceleaf, their bellies tarnished by an amber glow. Perhaps it was some odd shaft of evening sunshine through the clouds?
Cornsilk let out a taut breath. She missed her parents and Leafhopper. All day long she had been hearing her mother’s beautiful voice and teasing laughter, and they had wounded her soul. To be frustrated in her plans was irritating enough, but she was also homesick.
Her dreams last night had been bizarre and tormented. She’d found herself tumbling through a flaming sky, and a huge white-faced bear had run around and around her, trying to save her from crashing to the earth. He’d finally told her to climb onto his back. Cornsilk had grabbed the fur around his neck and ridden him as he’d leaped from cloud to cloud. When he landed on the ground, she’d climbed off and petted his neck softly. She’d loved that bear deeply for all he’d done for her.…
Walking over the crest of the hill, she could see where the tan trail forked in the juniper-furred valley below. She scrutinized it. If she took off running, she could be home in less than half-a-hand of time. She wouldn’t stay. She knew her parents did not wish that, but if she could, she …
Stone Forehead would just run you down. You’ve raced him before, and he’s much faster than you are.
So was Fledgling, for that matter. She watched the two young men as they topped the hill and walked toward her. From the smiles on their faces, they’d become fast friends. Fledgling would probably help Stone Forehead tackle her and drag her kicking and screaming to Uncle Deer Bird’s house.
“We should camp here tonight,” Stone Forehead said as he hiked up beside Cornsilk. His yellow sleeves flapped in a sudden gust of wind. “This is a good place.”
Fledgling looked around and nodded. “All right, I’ll gather wood for a fire, then we’ll—”
“You dimwits,” Cornsilk said disgustedly. “Oh, yes, this is a fine place. Why, up here on this hilltop enemy warriors will be able to see us for half a day’s walk. A fire here will be seen as far south as the Fire Dogs! Not to mention the Tower Builders and the Wild Men. Besides, up here, Wind Baby will scour our faces raw.” She thrust her bow toward the split in the road. “I’m camping down in the junipers.”
Fledgling grinned and his pug nose crinkled. “She’s right, you know. It would be safer. Finding wood will be easier, too. We might even be able to ambush a deer, or net some birds in the trees.”
Cornsilk and Fledgling stared at Stone Forehead, awaiting an answer.
The young warrior stood stiffly, his dark brows lowered, peering unblinking at the northern highlands. A flush crept into his cheeks, as if his heart had begun to thunder.
Fledgling said, “What is it? What do you see?”
Cornsilk turned, frowned, and glanced northward. Father Sun’s radiance had completely died, so the golden gleam could not be a strange reflection of the light. Had Lanceleaf Village built a huge bonfire, or—
Stone Forehead breathed, “Oh, Blessed gods,” and ran, his legs flashing as he raced down the hill.
A cold pit opened in Cornsilk’s belly. She flew after him, her pack flopping on her back. A pitiful voice whispered in her soul, No, it can’t be …
Fledgling caught up with her and shouted, “It’s happening, Cornsilk! Just as our parents feared!” He pulled out ahead.
She squinted against the dust his feet kicked up. The dirt trail cut through the junipers and climbed the opposite slope. Stone Forehead leaped a log in the trail before she lost him in the trees.
Fledgling darted past the split in the trail and vanished into the deep green, following Stone Forehead.
Cornsilk briefly glanced at the trail which led to her uncle’s home, and forced her legs to run harder. She panted up the slope, ducking beneath the low juniper branches, and continued on.
When she reached the top, Stone Forehead was way out ahead. He’d hit his stride, and his long legs ate away at the distance. Fledgling ran behind him.
As the evening deepened, they became black silhouettes, and the gleam in front of them turned savage. What she had earlier taken for clouds hovering over the village metamorphosed into great billows of smoke. Tormented by Wind Baby, they lengthened, becoming thin charcoal threads as they blew eastward. The glow rose into the night like a fiery blister.
Cornsilk ran with all her heart, powered by panic. Mother! Blessed thlatsinas … not Mother! The need to feel her arms around her again grew overwhelming. Cornsilk prayed as she had never prayed before, “If anything’s happened to her … thlatsinas, don’t let her die! Please, don’t let her die!”