She launched herself at him, but the instant her arms went around him, her joy vanished. Earlier in the day, the snow must have melted on his cape as he’d dragged himself, soaking it. He was cold to the bone … but he wasn’t shivering. She pushed away and stared at him. He was wobbling, and his eyes had a dreamy half-awake look, as though he wasn’t sure she was real.
“Zateri?” he said again in a faint voice.
She spun around in panic. “He’s freezing to death. Gather wood. We have to warm him up.”
Auma wrung her hands. “But … won’t Gannajero see the fire?”
“Get wood now!”
Auma and Conkesema scrambled through the falling snow, breaking off the dead branches at the bases of the trees. They would be the driest wood around. In the meantime, Zateri pulled Wrass’ wet cape over his head and draped it across two roots to serve as a kind of roof over his head. Then she pulled off her own cape and slipped it around him. As she tugged it down over his arms, he blinked up at her. Snowflakes coated his narrow face and perched upon his hooked nose.
“Zateri.” As he said her name, tears filled his eyes. “I hurt … my ankle. Can’t walk.”
“I’ll take care of it, I promise. For now, I need you to stay awake.”
“But I’m so t-tired.”
She grabbed him by the shoulders and stared at him. “I don’t care how tired you are. Stay awake or I’ll beat you with a stick. Do you hear me?”
His head wobbled, but a smile came to his lips. “You really are here. I … I wasn’t sure. Been s-seeing things. Faces … in the forest.”
Auma and Conkesema returned, piled wood beside Zateri, and went back for more.
As Zateri started digging a hole in the snow to create a pit for the fire, she said, “Yes, I’m really here, and I’m going to take care of you, Wrass. You’re going to be all right.”
But as she arranged the kindling in the pit, she kept glancing out at the dark forest.
Thirty-three
A gloating smile curled Gannajero’s toothless mouth. All around her, her men crouched in the brush or stood behind tree trunks. In the falling snow, they blended perfectly with the forest shadows. She couldn’t even hear them breathing.
For Kotin’s ears alone, she said, “I told you Chipmunk Teeth would never leave the boy. Order our men to slowly spread out. I don’t want any mistakes this time.”
Thirty-four
The evening breeze was freezing cold and carried the distant howling of wolves.
“Tree.” Koracoo leaned out of the bow to point.
Cord moved trancelike, dipped his oar, and steered the canoe around the snag that bobbed along in the water. The snow was falling so heavily he could barely see the spinning branches. If they struck something like this in the darkness, it would rip the bottom right off the birch-bark canoe. But he wasn’t about to be the one to suggest to Koracoo that they stop for the night. For the past hand of time, she’d been terse, concentrating on the river.
Cord dipped his paddle again. Waves spun away, colliding with the whitecaps and leaves floating on the muddy surface. Somewhere upstream, the storm must have been violent. Debris, including whole trees, had washed into the Quill River.
Sindak, who sat in the stern just behind Cord, murmured, “She’s going to get us killed.”
“We can still see. We’re all right.”
“What makes you think she’ll stop when we can’t see?”
Sindak’s snow-covered hood shielded most of his face, but Cord could see one of his eyes and his beaked nose. Uneasy, Cord asked, “Have you ever seen her canoe through a blizzard at night?”
“No, but this isn’t any ordinary night, is it? She knows we’re close. There’s no telling what she’ll—”
“If you’re trying to be secretive,” Koracoo said from the bow, “your voices are not nearly low enough.”
She turned to stare at them over her shoulder. Some time ago, she’d shoved her hood back so she could see better, and her short hair stuck wetly to her face. “Stop complaining.”
Sindak called, “I just thought I should tell you that I can no longer see my paddle.”
She just dipped her oar again.
Odion glanced back and forth between them. He sat in the middle of the canoe with his puppy asleep in his lap. He’d barely let the wolf out of his hands since Toksus’ death. Atop the packs in front of Odion, Tutelo slept soundly. Long black hair haloed her pretty face. She reminded Cord a little of his daughter, and that brought him both pain and joy.
“I’m trying to tell you … ,” Sindak began, but halted when Koracoo suddenly pulled her oar out of the water and tugged CorpseEye from her belt. Her gaze darted over the shore.