The Dawn Country(84)

Baji and Hehaka scrambled ashore behind Gonda and whispered to each other.

An eerie sensation of impending doom prickled Cord’s spine. He stepped silently around the sleeping Tutelo, braced a hand on the gunwale, and vaulted to the sand. He walked to join Sindak and Towa.

As the three of them stood in the falling snow, Towa said, “Did CorpseEye lead us here?”

“Yes,” Sindak replied. “How did you know?”

Towa pulled his hood forward to shield his face from the storm. “This is a bad place to camp. Koracoo wouldn’t have chosen it.”

“You think her club is brainless? Or just a bad judge of campsites?”

“I think CorpseEye could care less about our safety or comfort. He has other priorities.”

“What other priorities?” Cord asked.

The two warriors had been with Koracoo and Gonda for about a moon. They knew far more about the war chief’s weapon than Cord did.

Sindak’s eyes lifted to the trees, searching the limbs. “I wouldn’t be too eager to find out, if I were you.”

Towa shivered and rubbed his arms. “It’s going to be a freezing night. We should collect wood before it gets too dark to see.”

Cord used his club to point to a copse of elms. At some time in the past, they’d been attacked by worms. Half the branches were dead. “Those will be the driest branches.”

Sindak’s breath frosted when he answered, “Towa and I will do it.”

Willow stems clattered as Sindak and Towa shoved through them to get to the dead branches. For a time, Cord let them work while he scrutinized the area. The snowfall was still steady, but it had slowed down. About half as many flakes whirled from the sky.

He glimpsed movement to his left, and turned to see Odion and Gitchi walking along the sand toward him. The boy had a moonish face, with soft brown eyes and a short nose. Inside his hood, Odion’s shoulder-length hair clung wetly to his jaw. The young wolf trotted happily at his side with his tongue hanging out.

As he approached, Odion said, “Mother told me I could walk down the shore so long as I keep you in sight.”

Cord nodded. “Very well, but as soon as we’ve gathered wood we’ll be walking back.”

“I won’t go far.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

Odion nodded and continued down the shore with Gitchi bouncing along at his heels.

Cord took one final look at the forest and river; then he waded through the brush to help Sindak and Towa collect wood.





Thirty-five

Odion





A faint pewter gleam lingers as I walk down the shore through the falling snow. Twilight is rapidly giving way to night. Gitchi lopes at my side. The strip of sand is very narrow here, bordered on my right by the wide river and on my left by thick brush. Beyond the brush, trees rattle as Wind Mother blows the storm across the forest.

I step wide around a big rock, taller than I am, that is lodged in the middle of the sand. It narrows the path until it’s just barely wide enough to edge by without stepping in the water. As I slide past, Gitchi splashes through the river, swerves around the rock, and trots ahead into the darkness.

“Gitchi, wait! Don’t get too far ahead. Come here, boy.”

I find him on the other side. He’s standing with one wet paw lifted, staring to the south, sniffing the air. The dim gleam of evening makes him look like a ghost dog. He is a dove-colored phantom wavering in and out of the falling snow.

A low growl rumbles in his throat.

“What’s wrong, boy?”

Gitchi scents the wind again and turns to me expectantly.

Wind Mother is blowing up from the south, swirling snow around and thrashing through the brush. I turn to face into the wind and my eyes widen. “That’s smoke.”

A campfire? A village?

Fear twists my stomach as I back away. “Come on, Gitchi. We’re going back right now.”

His ears prick, and he trots to me with his bushy tail wagging. I reach down and stroke his silken head. “Good boy. Thanks for warning me.”

My moccasins crunch in the snow as I head for the rock. Just before I edge around it, Wind Mother’s howling dies down, and the river’s hushed roar seems louder. I tip my head back to look up into the falling flakes. They are half the size of my palm and silently spiral down to melt on my face. When I lick them from my lips, they have a clean earthy flavor. I turn back to the trail.

It’s grown so dark that without the snow on the path, I’m not sure I’d be able to tell where the water began and the shore—

Voices.

Behind me.

Gitchi growls, and my heart thunders.

Ahead, I hear War Chief Cord speaking with Sindak and Towa, but this is something else. I’m sure it came from behind me, to the south.