The Dawn Country(90)

“His name is Odion,” Wrass says. “He’s my friend. From my village. He—”

“Wait,” the older girl says. “Isn’t he one of the boys you helped to escape?”

Wrass nods. “Yes.”

As though horrified, she asks, “What’s he doing here? Did they hunt him down and drag him back?”

Guilt fills me. The fact that some of us escaped must have given them hope, and now, seeing me here …

“She didn’t hunt me down,” I explain, and cast a glance over my shoulder. The two guards have walked a short distance away and stand talking to each other. I keep my voice barely audible. “I came hunting for you with a war party. They are camped on the beach less than one-half hand of time away. I swear it.”

“But … what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with them?”

I square my shoulders. “Right after we made camp, I walked a short distance away and glimpsed Wrass’ fire. Then I heard Zateri’s voice. I had to see if they were really out there.”

“But the war party will come looking for you, won’t they?”

“Of course they will.”

The girl wipes her eyes with her hands. “I am Auma, from the Otter Clan of the People of the Dawnland, and this is Conkesema. She—”

My eyes go wide. “Conkesema! You’re the Healer’s daughter. Wakdanek’s daughter.”

Conkesema lets out a cry, then stutters uncontrollably as she scrambles across the ground on her knees to get to me. When she twines her hands in my cape and stares hard into my eyes, she gibbers. I don’t understand any of her words, but I say, “Your father is here. Right now. He came with us to find you, to find both of you.”

Conkesema lunges to her feet to run to find her father, and I grab her around the waist. Against her ear, I hiss, “Not yet. They’ll kill you. We have to wait!”

She whines and sobs against my hair, “No, no, no, no—”

Auma gasps. “She’s speaking! She hasn’t spoken since the attack on our village.”

I pull Conkesema down and say, “Wait. For now, that’s all we can do.”

The little girl sinks to the snow beside me, sitting so close I can barely move. Her gaze has fastened to my face and won’t let go.

I notice that Wrass is subtly surveying the guards, who stand five paces away, and I wonder what he’s looking at. The shorter man, whose name I don’t know, has a bow and quiver slung over his left shoulder and carries a war club in his hand. He wears his hair in a long braid. Dakion has only a war club, though his belt bristles with stilettos, knives, and a throwing axe.

Dakion says, “I don’t know how she knew … . Witchery … She said there would be a boy and a dog … . All I did was …”

My heart flutters like a bird’s after it’s been shot with an arrow. I can’t seem to catch my breath. She knew I would be there?

Dakion continues, “I’m relieving you. Go tell her where we’re holding the two Yellowtail villagers … . I’ll wait … as she ordered, until …”

The shorter man says something low, then trots away into the darkness. Dakion props his war club on his shoulder.

Wrass tilts his head, motioning me to come closer. I slide away from Conkesema and go to sit by him. “Wrass, how could she have known that I would be there?”

“Doesn’t matter now. Listen to me.” He reaches into the knee-high moccasin on his wounded leg and pulls out a wooden stiletto. It is made from hardwood, probably maple, though I can’t tell in the darkness, and has been ground to a sharp point. It’s about three times as long as the deerbone stiletto that Sindak gave me. Long enough to puncture a lung or heart. Wrass hands it to me and says, “I made these in case I had to fight off wolves. I have another in my other moccasin, but I don’t think I can …” He clenches his jaw to hold back tears. “When the time is right, you’re going to have to do it, Odion.”

Fear constricts my throat. I close my fingers around the smooth wood. It’s warm from being close to his body. “All right, Wrass.”

I’m scared, but not scared enough to fail him. Wrass risked his life to help me escape, and dying is less frightening to me than letting him down. I glance around at the other children and tuck the stiletto into my moccasin.





Forty-one

Sindak gritted his teeth and glared at the people in the firelight.

Gonda had Hehaka’s thin body clutched against his chest and was growling, “Stop fighting me!”

The boy let out a shrill cry and kicked his legs harder. “No, I have to go to them. They’re my family!”