“He’s starving,” Gonda whispered.
“Don’t get sentimental. He and his clan killed two of my men tonight.”
Gonda’s mouth tightened into a white line. “He looks hungry enough to have swallowed them whole while they were still screaming, moccasins and all.”
“In one case, I think he did.”
“Why would they send a boy?” Gonda whispered. “Do they think we won’t shoot a child?”
“I’m staying my bow, aren’t you? Is anyone else letting fly?”
Gonda gave him a knowing glance. “Good point.”
The boy stared up at the boulders in a strangely wistful way, patiently waiting for something. What? After perhaps one hundred heartbeats, he loped away to rejoin his comrades, and a whimpering, snarling cacophony arose.
Gonda released the tension on his bowstring. “I wish they wouldn’t do that.”
“It does fray a man’s nerves, doesn’t it?”
“What do you think they’re up to?”
Cord squinted at the moonlit trail. “The boy’s telling them where each of us is hidden—at least those he could spot.” He frowned at two warriors who had curled up on the ground, in the manner of sleeping dogs, taking rest when and where they could. Another lazily stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Three, wearing wolf headdresses, were engaged in a ritual he did not understand. They crawled forward on their bellies, ingratiating themselves to a tall warrior. Close by, two more were jealously slinking up and down the trail. The thing that most interested him, however, were the four people sitting together as though in council. Elders?
Cord said, “I see thirteen.”
“But you and I both know there are more out there.”
“Yes, probably working their way into position around us. Do you think the four people sitting in the circle are elders?”
“I certainly hope so. That could bring some wisdom to this confrontation.”
Aggrieved warriors hunting down the people who’d murdered their families lost all reason. Their intent was simply to avenge their loved ones. Elders, however, could generally see through the emotion to the future repercussions of such slaughter. Often, they stayed the hands of their warriors.
After another five hundred heartbeats, one of the children in the rock shelter began talking, then crying.
“Hallowed Ancestors,” Gonda said, and called, “Sindak? Do something!”
Before Sindak could speak, Odion ordered, “Stop it, Hehaka!”
It didn’t stop. Finally, one of the boys slid out. “I’m not staying in there!” Hehaka cried. His face was lit by the moon, but the rest of him remained in shadow. As he rose to his feet, he might have been a disembodied head bobbing through the forest.
“Hehaka? Get down!” Odion ordered.
Cord observed as Hehaka scrambled through the maze of moonlight and black shadows, heading down the slope to where Koracoo stood amid a cluster of boulders.
Odion lunged from cover and hurled himself after Hehaka, shouting, “Take cover! They’re going to kill you!”
Hehaka shouted back, “I don’t care!”
Odion dove for Hehaka and knocked him to the ground with a whump! Hehaka shrieked as they rolled and fought.
The girls crawled out and ran for the two boys. In less than ten heartbeats, all of the children were out of the rock shelter—and clear targets for their enemies.
Sindak raced down the slope, grabbed Hehaka by the hand, and led all the children behind the boulders near Koracoo. Cord could see them clearly.
The children whispered plaintively and leaned against Koracoo’s legs for protection. The youngest girl, perhaps eight, kept tugging at Koracoo’s cape and pointing out into the trees, as though to get her to look at something.
This seemed to agitate the Wolf Clan. The whole group sprang to its feet and pressed forward tentatively, each cocking an ear to listen to the children’s cries, as though hoping to recognize a voice.
Cord counted the visible warriors. “There are only eight now.”
Gonda jerked a nod. “I know. That means the others are behind us.”
“We need to spring the ambush soon.”
“When a few more have walked into the ravine, Koracoo will—”
Odion said something to Koracoo, and she bent low to whisper with him. After twenty heartbeats, Odion walked down the steep hill and into the bottom of the ravine. He had his spine straight and his hands up, which spread the moosehide blanket knotted around his shoulders and revealed his chest to anyone who wanted to let fly.
“Koracoo is using your own son as the bait?” Cord said in disbelief.
There was only a hint of fear in his voice when Gonda replied, “Odion must have asked to do it. I don’t hear any bows singing, do you?”