As the steps pounded closer, Koracoo silently slipped behind the maple trunk and shifted CorpseEye for an easy swing at the first man’s head.
Most of the storm had passed, though Cloud People still filled the heavens and cast dark shadows as they journeyed northward, apparently following the river. Snow fell lightly, obscuring Koracoo’s view. She stared hard at the moonlit trail … and made out Sindak, coming fast. There was only one man behind him. Towa. She could tell from the way he moved.
As he ran for the clearing, she called, “Where’s Cord? Where’s my son?”
Sindak stumbled when she stepped out from behind the maple and onto the trail in front of him. “Odion,” he said, breathing hard. “We heard a shout and a bark. Cord went to find him. It’s probably nothing, but Cord said that if he wasn’t back in five hundred heartbeats, you should—”
Sindak’s voice faded as his eyes lifted and rapidly darted over the trees around the clearing. He said only, “War Chief.”
“Koracoo?” Gonda called almost simultaneously.
She turned to see faces gleaming in the faint light cast by the fire. They stood behind trees, but she could see their drawn bows. The fletching on the arrows shimmered.
“Lay down your weapons,” a man called from the shadows. “We have you surrounded. If you don’t do as I say, we’ll capture the children and make you watch while we gut them.”
Every eye turned to Koracoo. Gonda was gritting his teeth, glaring in disgust that they’d allowed themselves to be cornered like this. Wakdanek’s face had gone stony.
“Do as he says.” Koracoo gently placed CorpseEye on a snow-covered pile of old leaves. As she slipped her bow and quiver from her shoulder and placed them beside CorpseEye, she whispered to Sindak, “I count eight. You?”
“Eight,” he replied, “maybe nine. I think there’s someone standing at the edge of the firelight to the north.” She heard snow crunch as he and Towa placed their clubs within reach.
Towa added, “And two behind us, War Chief, blocking the trail.”
“Our only escape route,” Sindak said in a vaguely annoyed voice. “They’ve been watching and assessing us for a long time. Probably since we landed. Their camp must be nearby.”
Koracoo glanced at CorpseEye. He had never led her into a trap before. There had to be more here than she was seeing.
A tall man with broken yellow teeth stepped out of the forest and walked into the firelight. He moved like a gangly stork wading the shallows and wore a beautiful red leather cape trimmed with seashells.
More warriors emerged from the trees, spreading out, circling them like a pack of hungry wolves. Each carried a drawn bow, and several of them were warriors from the People Who Separated. She could tell from their hats, made from the shoulder skin of a moose, which were very similar to the one Wakdanek wore. Her brows drew together as she tried to figure it out. The People Who Separated did not ally themselves with any outsiders, but the red-caped man’s accent marked him as a man of the Mountain People, and she suspected by the distinctive way he moved that the skinny man to Red Cape’s right was from the Landing People.
Eight men in the clearing. But Sindak was right. There was another shadow at the edge of the firelight to the north. It swayed slightly as though watching the proceedings, merely observing. And there could be many more out in the trees.
“I am Kotin,” Red Cape greeted. “Messenger for the powerful—”
“Kotin!” The cry came from the canoe. Packs scattered as Hehaka leaped to his feet and scurried across the boat to get out. He charged headlong for the man, calling, “I’m here! I’m right here. I knew you’d come for me!”
As Hehaka raced by Gonda, he grabbed the boy, swung him into his arms, and held him like a shield over his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let me go!” Hehaka pounded his fists into Gonda’s shoulders. “They’ve come for me. I have to go to them!”
Kotin lunged toward Gonda, and Gonda shouted, “Come one step closer, and I’ll snap his neck.”
Kotin stopped dead in his tracks. “That would be very foolish. A short distance away, we’re holding two Yellowtail Village children as hostages, your son and a hawk-faced boy named Wrass. Do you want to see them dead?”
A weightless sensation possessed Koracoo as the horrifying realization sank in that they had not accidentally stumbled upon a war party, but …
Gonda turned just barely toward her, and she saw the same stunned knowledge on his face. He called, “Koracoo, I assume you’re going to negotiate with this piece of filth.”