Cord dumped his armload of wood and pulled his war club from his belt. “This could be nothing, but get back to camp. Tell War Chief Koracoo that if I’m not there with Odion in five hundred heartbeats, something is wrong.”
Cord didn’t wait to see if they obeyed him; he trotted down the shore.
The clouds had parted. Moonlight slanted across the snowy forest in bars and streaks. Where it touched, the ground gleamed as though coated with silver dust.
Cord slid around the boulder that blocked the path and heard a pathetic whimper. He eased his head out and peered at the trail. Almost invisible in the moonlight, the young wolf was dragging himself along Odion’s footprints, whimpering and struggling, trying to get to the place in the forest where firelight flickered.
Hot blood surged through Cord’s veins.
A warriors’ camp? No. If a warrior had clubbed a puppy, he would have already spitted him and had him roasting over the flames. The man who clubbed Gitchi didn’t have the luxury of picking him up … . He needed both hands, one for his weapon and one for Odion.
Cord surveyed the grove of maples and sycamores, then slowly made his way to the puppy and knelt down. As Cord petted him, Gitchi’s tail weakly thumped the ground. “Were you trying to get to him, to protect him?” Cord asked softly. “You’re a brave boy.”
Gitchi whined.
“Don’t worry. I’m coming back for you.”
Cord silently rose and started for the orange halo of firelight.
Odion’s footprints marked the way.
Thirty-seven
Odion
The man turns away from us to scan the forest, and I whisper, “Wrass, we’re going to get out of here. I’m not alone. Just down the shore—”
“Shh!” Wrass hisses, and glances at the warrior.
As though I’m trying to help keep my friend warm, I put my arm around Wrass’ shoulder and draw him close while I whisper in his ear, “Where’s the rest of the war party? I don’t see them.”
His chin subtly tips toward the forest to my left, then indicates other places. I can’t force myself to look. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. “How many?”
He shakes his head as though he doesn’t know for sure. This isn’t like Wrass. He is a warrior. He always knows who and what he is facing. Has the cold taken his senses? There is a woodpile beside the fire. I grasp a branch and lay it on the flames. As the fire eats through the bark, it crackles, and sparks flit toward the limbs above.
Wrass has his head bowed to hide the movements of his mouth. “The old w-woman hired more men. Don’t know how many.”
Thirty-eight
From where Koracoo stood guard beneath the leafless maple branches at the edge of the clearing, she could see Gonda and Wakdanek adding twigs to the fire, preparing it for the larger branches that Cord’s wood-gathering party would bring. Already a weak amber gleam flickered through the trees and reflected from the river. Tutelo and Hehaka crouched before the tiny blaze with their hands extended. Both were shivering. Their soft voices seemed to echo in the snowfall and increased the deep sense of unease that tormented her.
CorpseEye was warm against her fingers, telling her there was something out there. She spread her feet and gripped the ancient club in tight fists, preparing herself for the worst.
Gonda called, “What’s keeping Cord? We could use that wood now.”
Wakdanek replied, “Why don’t I take the children and collect some more of the driftwood along the shore? We’ll add it to the pile. That should be enough to keep the blaze going until—”
“Quiet!” Koracoo stiffened at the sound of feet pounding up from the south, coming hard along the shore. “Gonda?”
He was instantly on his feet, his club in his hand. From many summers of warring together, he had learned every possible tone in her voice, and he knew this was more than just Cord returning from wood gathering.
“Where?” he softly asked.
She tipped her chin to the south.
Wakdanek rose to his feet and pulled his club from his belt. “It’s probably just Cord, or Sindak and Towa.”
Gonda turned to the children. “Baji, take Tutelo and Hehaka. Get in the canoe. Hide yourselves under the packs.”
Baji didn’t ask a single question. She scrambled to her feet and led the other children to the canoes. As they pulled packs over the top of them, Gonda said, “Wakdanek, if anything happens, I want you in that canoe and headed down the river with the children. If we’re able, we’ll catch you before dawn. If we haven’t caught you by then, don’t stop. Do you understand?”
Wakdanek swallowed hard and nodded. “I do.”