She soaked the yellow cloth in the river, then gently tied it around his battered head and knotted it. “This cloth was dyed with musquash root a moon ago. I hope some of the Spirit medicine is left. It will make the swelling go down.” She gave him a serious look. “But if you start feeling even sicker, rip this off your head and get in the river fast to wash as much off as you can.”
“I will.”
Grieving people often used the roots of musquash to kill themselves. It was a powerful poison, though it smelled pleasantly like raw parsnip. “Where did you get the cloth?”
“I …” She lowered her gaze. “I Traded for it with Dakion, one of the new warriors. He’s from the Mountain People.”
Wrass studied her downcast eyes. She didn’t want to look at him. Knowing what she must have Traded, sick rage warmed his veins. He searched the camp for the warrior who’d hurt her. But he said, “How are the new ch-children?”
“Scared and hungry. Just like we were. There’s one boy, Sassacus, who is very sick. I think he’s about your age, eleven. But I’m really worried about the youngest Dawnland girl. Her cousin says she stopped talking after she saw her mother killed during the attack on Bog Willow Village. And she’s too pretty, Wrass.”
He closed his eyes, understanding what that meant. “Conkesema.”
“Yes. She’s ten summers. The other girls are eleven and twelve. One, Neche, is from the Flint People.”
“What’s wrong with S-Sassacus?”
“Auma says he’s been sick several days. I don’t know why Gannajero bought him. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Wrass pulled out another piece of eel and ate slowly. “If you can … tr-try to see that the boys get in this canoe … with me? I need to … talk to them.”
Zateri wet her lips nervously, but nodded. “I’ll try. When you’ve finished the eel, dip the cup in the river and drink. Promise me? Drink and chew the willow twigs.”
He nodded and rested his temple against the cold gunwale, continuing to eat. When his cup was empty, he dipped up water and slowly sipped it. His headache was so bad he longed to climb into the water and drown in the icy depths.
Zateri said, “I’d better get back before they—”
A sharp cry rent the darkness.
They both jerked around. Akio was dragging the two boys across camp by their bound hands. Every time Sassacus stumbled, Akio wrenched the ropes so that they cut into his bloody wrists. Toksus sobbed uncontrollably.
When Gannajero saw them coming she knotted Hehaka’s blanket around her shoulders and let out a hideous shriek. It sounded like a dying eagle. The warriors around her fire leaped to their feet in surprise.
Gannajero rose and spread her arms as though they were wings and she was preparing to take flight. Her cape wafted in the breeze.
Akio frowned uneasily at her as he hauled the boys over and shoved them to the ground at Gannajero’s feet. Toksus sobbed, while Sassacus just quietly stared at the fire.
Akio said, “Would you like me to—?”
“Guard the other children. If anyone escapes, it will cost you your life.”
Akio hurried to stand over the girls. A short distance away an uneasy circle of warriors formed. The men muttered darkly to each other.
Gannajero cocked her head, first one way then another, studying the boys like a curious bird. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Sassacus,” the sick boy bravely said. “What do you want from me?”
Without taking her eyes from his, she said, “Kotin. Bring my pack.”
He grabbed it from beneath a tree and carried it over. Gannajero took it from his hand. “Bind their feet.”
Kotin knelt, pulled short ropes from his belt—as though he’d been expecting this—and tied the boys’ feet. Then he stepped back.
Gannajero drew a chert knife from her pack. Both boys stared at it. Her voice started low, barely audible, just a soft caw, caw, caw, as she hopped around in an eerie dance that resembled Crow hunting Mouse in a field. Her steps were light, almost graceful.
As his heartbeat thundered, pain stampeded through Wrass’ head. “Oh, no, dear gods.” He struggled to get up, to get out of the boat and run to the boys, but Zateri grabbed him around the shoulders and dragged him back down.
“Don’t move!” she whispered. “You’re in no condition to fight a bunch of warriors.”
“But you know what she’s about to—”
“You can’t stop it!” she said. “None of us can. I don’t want to lose you, too!”
Gannajero let out a shrill cry and plunged the knife into the sick boy’s back; then she leaped away.