Sindak turns to Father. “They gave him a name, Gonda.”
The lines around Father’s eyes tighten. “So I heard.”
“Gitchi” seems to sense that something’s wrong. He sinks onto his haunches and his tail thumps the ground, but it’s an uncertain gesture, as though he’s saying, Everybody’s looking at me, and the voices have gone tense. Please don’t hurt me.
“We can’t take a dog with us,” Sindak says. “Having the children along is bad enough.”
Father’s gaze touches Tutelo’s, and Baji’s. They give him a pleading look. He does not look at me. Instead, he turns away and slowly shakes his head. “This is Koracoo’s decision, not mine.”
“Can’t face it, eh?”
Half-angry, Father says, “It’s just not my responsibility, Sindak. Koracoo is war chief.”
“Oh, well, of course.” Sindak drags out the last word, as though he means exactly the opposite.
Father glowers at Sindak.
“Father,” I say, “please. I’ll take care of him. I won’t let him get in the way.”
“It’s not my decision, Son. Ask your mother.”
As the other warriors notice us, they begin to migrate toward the shore. Mother is the last to look up from the ground. When she sees everyone congregated on the bank, her brows lift, and she stalks toward us. Her red cape sways around her long legs.
Wakdanek frowns at Mother but doesn’t say a word. He’s clearly waiting to see what everyone else says before he ventures an opinion about the puppy.
War Chief Cord squints at Gitchi. His hood has fallen back, revealing his mostly shaved head and bristly roach of black hair. The snake tattoos on his cheeks seem to coil tighter. “What’s the problem?”
Father waves a hand. “The children found a dog. We were just discussing—”
Towa walks up, spies the puppy, and says, “Good work! Who caught the dog? I’m starved.”
“He is not lunch,” Baji says unpleasantly.
As Towa glances around the circle in confusion, his long black braid saws up and down his left shoulder. “No?”
Sindak gives Towa a broad smile and explains, “His name is Gitchi.”
The puppy wags his tail, as though he already knows his name.
Towa darkly murmurs, “Oh. They named it.”
Mother walks into the circle and stands between Sindak and Towa. “I take it we’ve all decided to stop searching for Gannajero’s trail? Why?”
“It’s my fault,” Father says. “I noticed the children had a dog and came over to investigate.”
I step forward and look up into Mother’s face. She is very tall, as tall as War Chief Cord, and her small nose and full lips are coated with ash. Her short black hair falls over her cheeks. “What is it, Odion?”
“Mother, we found Gitchi in a sack by the canoe landing. He’s a good boy. Can we keep him?”
Mother expels a breath. “What did your father say?”
“He said it was your decision.”
Mother glances at Father, and he reacts as though he’s been impaled by a war lance. His shoulders hunch forward. “You’re the war chief, Koracoo. Not me.”
She stares at him for such a long time, Father starts to fidget. He folds his arms, then refolds them. I notice that Sindak is smothering a smile.
I say, “Mother, we’ll take good care of him. You won’t have to do anything. I promise. Baji, Tutelo, and I will feed him and make sure he stays out of trouble.”
Gitchi peeks out from between Baji’s and Tutelo’s legs and whimpers softly. Tutelo pets his head. She whispers, “Don’t be afraid, Gitchi. Everything’s all right.” The dog licks her hand, and Tutelo smiles.
War Chief Cord says, “Some brave soul has to make a decision. I’m glad it’s not me,” and walks away to start searching for a sign again.
Mother studies the dog’s yellow eyes. “He’s a wolf pup, do you know that? They’re not like dogs, Odion. They’re unpredictable. You could wake up in the middle of the night with his teeth embedded in your throat.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Me, too, Mother,” Tutelo says proudly.
Baji just glares at Mother, as though upset that she’s considering saying no.
“And what will you do in the heat of battle, Odion? If I tell you to run, will you? Or will you try to protect your dog?”
I’m not sure I can answer this. I look into Gitchi’s sparkling yellow eyes. He’s probably smart enough to take care of himself when he’s a little older, but now? “I’ll run, Mother. I promise. And I mean it.”