The Broken Land(21)

“I’ve been ordered to leave at nightfall.”

“I know,” she whispered against his throat and hugged him tighter. When she backed away, she pulled a necklace over her head. “Traders say the fever has come to Bur Oak Village. I made this for you. It’s wood nettle and white oak. It will counteract even the most powerful witchcraft. Don’t take it off.” She slipped it over his head.

Hiyawento tucked it into his cape. “Zateri, I want you to listen to me. Don’t argue. Just listen. If anything happens to me, and it won’t, but if it does, I want you to take our girls and go to Baji or Tutelo. Don’t stay here. I’m afraid of what your father might do without me around to—”

“Enough, my husband,” she said with tears in her voice. “I don’t even wish to think of life without you. You’re coming back.”

He nodded firmly. “Yes. I’ll be back.”

“In less than half a moon.”

“Thirteen days at most. Five days there, five days back, and three days to deliver the message and wrangle a way of keeping my head attached to my body.” He crushed her thin body against him and kissed the top of her head.

Zateri nuzzled her cheek against his chest, and her hands slipped beneath his cape, smoothing her fingers over his chest, then venturing lower. A sensation like warm water flooded his veins.

“Zateri, we don’t have much time.”

“Then let’s not waste it talking.” She kissed him as she worked to lift his cape over his head.

Hiyawento pulled it off and spread it upon the soft leaves. Zateri sank down and extended a hand to him. “Come, let me hold you for just a short while.”

He stretched out beside her and hastily worked to remove her cape and unlace the front of her soft dress.

They loved each other in the frosty meadow with Wind Mother playing through the branches above them. Each gust showered them with cascades of bright leaves.

Afterward, Hiyawento tenderly kissed the tears from her cheeks and held her tightly. “I love you, my wife. I love you so much.”

“Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“You have my word.”

They rose and dressed. As they walked back along the deer trail with their arms around each other, they talked and laughed, knowing full well that today might be all they would ever have.





Late that night Zateri lay in her bedding hides. Her sleeping girls snuggled beside her, as they always did when Hiyawento was gone. Every now and then laughter and soft voices eddied down the house. Somewhere, people gambled. She could hear the painted stones rattling in the cup before the gamblers tossed them out across the hide. Occasionally, a soft curse rose.

Memories filled her. Summer solstice, nine summers ago. She hadn’t seen Wrass in four summers. She was a newly made woman with a woman’s heart and needs, longing for children and a home … but unable to get over the scars left long ago by the terrifying days after she’d been sold into slavery. Every time a boy touched her, her heart seemed to shrivel in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She had the overwhelming urge to run away. Grandmother had told her to get over it. Plain and simple. Just get over it. You are Wolf Clan. You have duties.

Despite Zateri’s objections, Grandmother had decided to negotiate her marriage to a youth from the Snipe Clan. Marriage was an obligation. Providing children for the clan a responsibility. She had little choice.

Lying here with her girls, she remembered Wrass the night she’d first seen him as a man. The summer solstice celebration that cycle had been huge. Over four thousand people had come. She’d been shouldering through the gathering, heading for the Wolf longhouse, when her breath had suddenly caught. He’d been standing at the edge of the firelight talking to three Traders. Despite the intervening summers, she would have known Wrass anywhere. He’d had the same eagle face, sharp dark eyes, and beaked nose that she’d loved when she was ten summers old—though he’d grown much taller than she’d ever imagined he would. He’d always had a special skill with languages, and had sneaked into the crowds enjoying the solstice feasting just to see her. Dear blessed gods, what a wonderful moment that had been.

When he’d finally seen her running across the plaza toward him, he’d smiled—as though seeing her again was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d moved away from the Traders just in time for Zateri to throw herself into his arms.

Three moons later, she had left her father’s village among a flurry of accusations and threats, and formed her own village less than one-half hand of time away. Wrass was an enemy warrior, Grandmother had warned. She was a fool. Marrying beneath her. Father had been furious when she’d adopted Wrass into the Hills nation and requickened in him the legendary soul of her ancestor, Hiyawento, also known as He-Who-Combs-Away-Evil. She hadn’t cared. Of all men, Hiyawento knew what she’d been through. In his arms, she found shelter and understanding. She longed for nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him.