“Thank you, High Minko.”
“If you do find Thin Branch, tell him I have retired for the night.”
“Yes, High Minko.”
“Gods, if you can find him. The fog out there is as thick as muddy water.”
He watched her as she pulled the garment over her head. She was long past embarrassment. As she slipped past him, she could see the old man shaking his head. Then Flying Hawk turned, heading back to his rooms.
Morning Dew leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. I live in madness.
As she glanced out at the great room, the fire cast its light on the carvings, the stool, and hanging skulls. On silent feet she hurried to the great door and peered out. The thick mist carried the damp odor of Split Sky City, rich with smoke and the dank smell of humanity. The darkness was complete. Not even the guardian posts were visible.
No one would see me in this. But did she dare run?
Morning Dew retreated to Smoke Shield’s room, finding the war chief already asleep. He lay on his back, an arm over his head. His mouth hung open, chest rising in deep sleep.
She bent for the chamber pot, staring at the collection of items beneath his bed. The long chipped stone sword seemed to mock her. Soon that sharp point would drink of Screaming Falcon’s life.
Then she glanced at the severed toe. Gods, he enjoys this.
What would she do when Smoke Shield returned the following day to present her with her husband’s genitals?
I’ll break like a shattered pot.
She bent her head, heart pounding at the terrible images down in her souls. In a soft whisper, she said, “Help me, Breath Giver. I ask only for a little courage. Help me to see this thing through.” She raised her eyes, mouthing, “Please!”
Paunch and Whippoorwill had made their way for two days’ travel westward to the Horned Serpent River Divide. They had slipped silently through the trees, avoiding the trails. Paunch had labored up the long slopes, stumbling over roots, catching his clothing on greenbriar and spiny walking stick. When they finally had reached the crest, Whippoorwill had told him, “We must camp here for a while.”
When exhausted Paunch had awakened the next morning, Whippoorwill was nowhere to be found. Though he had waited anxiously, the girl had been gone for two long days. Paunch was near panic. Twice he had doused their little fire and started east, headed for Split Sky City. Each time, he had stopped, staring uneasily at the trees and listening to the silence. And each time he had talked himself into returning to their little camp. When she returned, if she returned, she would seek him there. Now he was just as glad he’d stayed. That morning he had awakened to find the valley below filled with a dense fog that lay like a blanket on the lowlands.
He had walked down the slope, peered into the obscure white haze, and shaken his head. He wouldn’t be able to see beyond the next tree if he got into that. He’d lose his way as sure as the rain fell. Even if Whippoorwill was out there, somewhere, in that mess, he could walk right past her and never know.
Where is she?
It was madness. Why hadn’t she told him she was going away? But then Whippoorwill had always been odd. She had had Dreams from the time she was little. Then, as she grew older, she would often disappear for days into the forest, only to reappear as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
She often knew things he didn’t; and for reasons he had yet to understand, he trusted her instincts.
As well you should have when she counseled you not to send Crabapple on that idiotic mission to warn White Arrow Town.
So, what should he do? Go back and see if she’d returned to Split Sky City as he suspected, or stay close to their little camp? Curse it all in the Ancestors’ names, she’d expect to find him at camp.
He teetered with indecision, then reluctantly turned to climb back to his little fire. The fact was, if she’d returned to Split Sky City, she was either hidden, or the Chikosi had her. If the latter was the case, there was nothing he could do for her. And he just might be caught himself.
Fretting, sick with worry, he hurried back up the trail. He didn’t like traveling in haste. Movement was the first thing spotted in the forest, and Chikosi scouts were everywhere, keeping an eye on the trails in case Chahta war parties were headed their direction in retaliation for the White Arrow Town attack.
Heart hammering in his chest, he staggered up the last rise to the sandstone outcropping where they had camped. Gasping for breath, he settled himself on a rock and dropped his pack to the leaf mat. Overhead, the sky was a patchwork of interlaced branches against a hazy blue. The only clouds were below him.
“Are you ready to leave, Grandfather?” Whippoorwill asked, climbing up the trail he had just ascended.