The other warriors gathered around Dakion, whispering ominously.
Wrass hadn’t had any water since dawn. He gazed longingly at the river, but when he tried to put weight on his ankle it felt like fiery splinters were being driven into his flesh.
Wrass rolled to his hands and knees and started crawling for the water. The entire time, Dakion watched him hatefully.
Tears blurred his eyes. While he’d badly injured his ankle in the fall, every part of him hurt. His ribs felt as though the muscles had been pulled loose from the bones.
When he finally reached the water, he greedily scooped it into his mouth with his hand. Rivulets spilled down his chin, but he kept drinking until he could hold no more. There was no telling when he’d get to drink again.
Wrass rolled to his back and, for a few blessed moments, lay on the riverbank staring up at the gathering Cloud People. The blue-black giants were pushing eastward.
“Load up,” Gannajero’s gravelly voice rasped. “We’re heading south.”
She and Kotin tramped past Wrass without even glancing at him. It was as though he no longer existed. Gannajero climbed into the bow of the lead canoe and irritably watched her men stow their gear. “Come on. We’re in a hurry!”
Ojib clambered for the rear of Gannajero’s canoe and picked up a paddle, while Waswan settled into the rear of the other canoe. Dakion and Kotin remained on shore to push off.
As Kotin shoved the lead canoe into the current and leaped into the bow, Dakion glanced at Wrass and shouted, “Wait! What about the boy? Is he riding in my canoe?”
“We’re leaving him,” Gannajero answered, just before the river grabbed hold of her canoe and carried it downstream.
“I don’t believe it!” Dakion gestured wildly to Waswan. “She’d planned all along to leave him? Why didn’t she just tell me?”
Waswan chuckled, and his small inhuman eyes glinted. “She probably thought it was none of your business.”
Dakion shook his head, shoved the canoe into the river, and jumped in. As they paddled out into the current, Wrass heard Dakion say, “With all the starving wolves in this country, that boy will be dead by nightfall.”
Wrass shoved up on one elbow to watch them disappear around the bend.
Stunned, an odd floating sensation came over him. They’d left him. He was free. Before he realized it, tears warmed his face. He could … he could go home! It might take him a while, but if he splinted and wrapped his ankle, he’d make it. There were many good walking sticks in sight. A fallen maple branch about his height lay less than ten paces away.
A few instants later, when he tried to stand up, reality returned with a vengeance. His ankle went out from under him, and he landed hard on the sand. Grabbing his screaming ankle, he rocked back and forth. The swelling was worse. Only a hand of time ago, he’d been able to fit both his hands around the joint.
Fear seeped through his relief and joy.
Dakion had been right. Many large predators ran along this shore. It was a primary hunting trail for wolves, bears, and cougars.
Wrass looked back into the trees. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it wouldn’t take the wolves long to catch the scent of Akio’s freshly skinned corpse.
He had to get as far away from here as he could.
Twenty-eight
“Gonda! Wait!”
Gonda spun around at the call and pulled his oar out of the water. In the rear, Towa and Wakdanek turned to watch the approaching canoe. Sindak and Cord were stroking hard, trying to catch them. Their canoe shot forward, piercing the green water like an arrow.
Gonda realized that Koracoo and the children were missing, and he shouted, “Put ashore. Hurry. Something’s wrong!”
Wakdanek and Towa backed water, turning the canoe; then they all fought the current to head to a small spit of sand on the eastern shore. Thick willows filled in the spaces between the towering trees. The spit was the only place to land. Gonda leaped out as they glided in and helped drag the boat up onto the bank. As the cold shadows of the trees enveloped him, a thousand possible explanations for Koracoo and the children’s absence skittered across his souls—none of them good.
As the canoe sliced through the water toward them, Tutelo got on her knees, and called, “Father? Where’s Mother? Where’s Odion and Baji?”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” he answered. “You and Hehaka can get out. Just stay close.”
“Yes, Father.”
Tutelo’s long braid switched across her back as she climbed over packs and oars to get out of the canoe. Hehaka followed more slowly, but both children ended up standing beside Gonda, staring up at him worriedly.
Towa and Wakdanek slogged ashore and waited beside the canoe.