The Dawn Country(75)

There were two tracks. Both clearly visible.

Her gaze lifted and swiftly examined the area. Was he still here? The tracks looked fresh. No rim of frost outlined the shapes, and there was no ice in the bottom of the tracks. They’d been made after the day had warmed with sunlight.

She edged closer and bent to examine them more carefully. The weather had turned cold and wet, but these were not moccasin prints. He was wearing sandals—the distinctive herringbone pattern woven only by the Hills People.

“She put his soul in me,” Toksus wailed.

Koracoo lifted her head. Odion had gone pale.

Baji said, “Why did she want you to have the dead boy’s soul?”

“I don’t know. She said, ‘Find him for me.’ But I didn’t know what she meant.”

Baji cupped a hand to Odion’s ear and whispered something. Odion nodded; then he swiveled around to face Toksus again. The boy looked at Odion as though afraid he was about to be left alone. He suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of Odion’s sleeve.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Toksus explained. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

“She’s a witch, Toksus,” Odion said. “You’re not to blame for what she does. Was she trying—?”

“She cut out his eyes, too.”

Odion and Baji both looked at Koracoo, as though silently begging for an explanation.

She rose and retraced her tracks to where they sat in a circle. Toksus had started to cry. His chest heaved, and soft whimpers vibrated in his throat. The sight of him wrenched Koracoo’s heart.

Baji said, “War Chief, have you ever heard of the ritual he described?”

“It’s witch Power, Baji, evil. I know little about such things.”

Baji’s delicate brows lowered. She examined Koracoo as though she suspected she was lying, that she really did know but was withholding the information. Baji resented being treated like a child.

Koracoo relented and said, “She was probably trying to force Toksus to catch the dying boy’s last breath. But Wakdanek is more familiar with such things. When he arrives, we’ll—”

A shudder went through CorpseEye, and he warmed in her hands. As the heat increased, she shifted the club to her other hand. He was old and wise in the ways of the unseen forces that moved through the forest. He sees something I don’t.

Her gaze swept upward from the bases of the trees to the highest limbs, then down to the brush, searching for any color or shape anomaly that would signal a hidden enemy warrior.

Very softly, so as not to startle her, Odion said, “Mother, what’s wrong?” He glanced at CorpseEye.

She touched her lips with her fingers, telling the children to be quiet. They reacted like grouse chicks at the sound of a wolf’s stealthy paws, their muscles bunched, ready to scatter to the heavens.

When the breeze picked up, the larches swayed and creaked, and a shower of yellow needles cascaded from the sky. Koracoo kept her eyes on the most likely places a war party might burst from cover.

After twenty or thirty heartbeats, Odion lifted his chin and his nostrils flared.

Then Koracoo caught the scent. It smelled faintly like the foul miasma that hovers around week-old carcasses in the summertime. She turned into the wind to see if she could pinpoint where it was coming from … and heard steps.

With ghostly silence, she rose and spread her feet, then grasped CorpseEye in both hands.

“Koracoo?” Sindak called. “Where are you?”

She relaxed. “Over here, Sindak. In the larch grove.”

A short while later, Sindak and Wakdanek emerged from the trees, followed by Tutelo and Hehaka. Towa brought up the rear.

Wakdanek called, “Toksus?”

The little boy leaped to his feet. “Cousin Wakdanek!”

Wakdanek knelt, and Toksus ran into his arms, weeping. “I thought you were dead. I thought everybody was dead!”

“No, Toksus.” Wakdanek stroked his back gently. “Many of us survived. Your mother is alive. I saw her just a few hands of time ago. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

Toksus sobbed against Wakdanek’s broad shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever see my family again.”

“Well, you will. Now, tell me how you got here, little cousin? You’re a long way from home.”

Toksus pulled away and wiped his nose on his sleeve. As the wind gusted, tree shadows painted his face. “Just after the battle, that ugly Flint Trader bought us, then sold us—”

“Bought who? How many Bog Willow children were with you?” The desperation in his voice was painful. “Was Conkesema—?”

“There were four of us. Me, Auma, Conkesema, and the dead boy.”