I shake my head. The pain is stunning. I’m crying breathlessly. “I—I think he broke by shoulder. My collarbone. I—”
“Odion, listen to me. You have to go look for the other man. Did he hear us and turn around?”
Fear surges through me. I drag myself to my feet, whimpering in pain, and trot over the crest of the hill. The forest below is still and glistening. “No, he’s gone. I think we’re safe.” I tuck the bloody stiletto into my belt and pull my left arm against my chest. Without warning, I throw up. The agony runs through my entire body. I gasp, “We should run.”
Wrass is sobbing brokenly, but he nods. “I can’t, Odion. But the three of you have to. You—you’re the leader now. Make sure they’re safe.”
A strange feeling comes over me. Wrass has passed the mantle of leadership to me, but I’m terrified and hurt. “Wrass, I don’t … think I can. I—”
“Yes, you can,” he insists. “Now get away from here! When Dakion doesn’t show up in the camp, they’ll send more warriors. You can’t be here when they arrive!”
I vomit again. When I finally turn to Auma and Conkesema, I’m choking on my own bile, but I manage to say, “Follow me. We’re going to run east, away from the river.”
Auma squares her young shoulders and calmly says, “All right. But first, let’s take Dakion’s weapons. We’re going to need them.”
Her sensibilities in the face of extreme danger leave me in awe. “You’re right. Take them all. We’ll divide them later.”
The three of us trot back to his body and begin stripping it of weapons. Auma takes the ax and two deerbone stilettos, while Conkesema gingerly pulls a hafted knife from Dakion’s belt. My head is spinning when I pick up the man’s war club, then his bow and quiver. I carry the bow down to Wrass and lay it, along with the quiver, beside him. “The moonlight is bright. Don’t let them get too close.”
Wrass smiles gratefully and pulls the bow and quiver onto his lap. As he nocks an arrow, he stammers, “Not if I can help it.”
The pain in my shoulder has grown so stunning I can’t stop the tears that flow down my cheeks, but I call, “Auma? Conkesema? Let’s go.”
The girls fall into line behind me, and I start leading them out into the gloom, trudging through the light snow.
I’m praying that Mother and Father have already killed Gannajero’s party and are, even now, trying to find me. But the past moon has taught me that I can’t count on anyone rescuing me or my friends. We have to save ourselves. As my breathing begins to return to normal, the horrifying realization is sinking in. I killed a man. I can’t feel my left hand, but the blood on my right has grown sticky. It glues my fingers to the war club. The only thing that helps keep my souls from fleeing my body is the fact that if I hadn’t killed Dakion, Wrass would now be dead, killed with this very club, and I might be dead as well.
We haven’t gone more than one hundred paces when I hear something. Ahead of us, on the other side of a wall of brush, someone is walking toward us … .
“Shh!” I hiss, and extend the war club to block Auma and Conkesema from taking another step.
The feet are almost silent. Warriors fleeing the fight? I take a new grip on the club. The pain in my shoulder is unbearable, but I have to concentrate and do what I must to give Auma and Conkesema a chance to run. Stay focused. Focus!
Two dark shapes appear and disappear through the brush. Just before they emerge, one stops and whispers something to his companion. Then both charge from the brush at dead runs, heading straight for me.
Zateri shouts, “Odion? Odion!”
Hot blood stings my veins. I can’t help it. The mixture of hope and relief is so great, I stagger and can barely stay on my feet. My knees long to buckle. “Zateri? Baji?”
Zateri rushes to hug me, but hesitates when she sees my bloody shoulder. She stops and just stands in front of me, tears in her eyes. She is a head shorter than I am, and the arm she extends to tenderly touch my good shoulder is skinny. “We were so afraid we’d be too late. As soon as we could escape, we came looking for you.”
Baji breaks in. “Where’s Wrass? Is he … ?” Baji’s eyes suddenly go huge. She is looking to my right, toward the brush.
I jerk around and see a hunched form weaving through the tangle of branches. No … it can’t be … My heart won’t let me believe …
Baji turns to Auma. “I don’t know who you are, girl, but give me that ax you’re carrying.”
Baji’s tone is commanding. Auma instantly hands it over.