breaks out, she won’t have much to wake up to,
Tor thought, as he lost the argument with himself.
CHAPTER 8
E NCIRCLED BY THE HEALING STONES, THE TWO M OONKEEPERS —one hunched over the other—might have looked like one large person. But not to Tor. One was his soulmate; the other, his
sister.
Poor little Tenka,
he thought. As the Other Moonkeeper, Tenka must make sure Ashan had everything she needed on her journey with spirits—a great
responsibility for a girl of only thirteen summers—though she’d been trained for it since she was seven or eight.
Tenka was asleep.
“Wake up, Far Away Star,” Tor said, using the name he’d called her as a child. He remembered how their mother used to say,
“Don’t be mean, Tor. Your sister’s name is Rising Star.” But even Luka had to admit that Far Away Star better described her
most of the time.
Tor reached out to touch her. When his hand crossed over the circle of stones, the hairs on his arm stood up. It felt like
there was no air inside the circle. The feeling moved up his arm as he reached farther in.
“Tenka, wake up.” He shook her, and jerked his hand back into familiar air.
She looked up at him with half-closed eyes.
“Mmm?”
“Where are the little ones?”
“Are they gone? Maybe their mothers hid them.”
Tor sighed. How could she lead a tribe when she didn’t even know where the little ones were?
“I’m going to take the people to the village now. They need something to do, or they’ll start fighting.”
“I’ll stay here. I’ll take care of Ashan. Trust me.”
So many refused to take Tenka seriously. With all that had been laid on her young shoulders, she needed her brother’s support.
“I do trust you, Other Moonkeeper. Spirits be with you.”
And with you, my love,
he thought, turning away from Ashan.
Tor looked around for Tsilka. He could have used her help, but she wasn’t here.
Kai El walked up, pulling Tor’s spear along the ground by its point. The boy spoke with pride, holding out the spear that
was twice as tall as himself.
“I looked for it. I found it up there.”
“Thank you, son. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Tor could not have meant it more. He took the spear and hefted it. Made long ago of oak, hardened by fire, bloodied by many
kills, its balanced weight felt good in his hand. It made him more than just a man: With this spear, he was a warrior.
Tor stood tall, bison robe thrown over his shoulder, spear butt in the ground at his side. He spoke in a loud voice.
“It’s time for us to go to Teahra Milage.”
People voiced concerns, but they followed Tor when he walked off. He did not need Tsilka’s help after all.
A breeze freshened the bright afternoon. Sheer rocks edged one side of the narrow trail. The water, flowing in the same direction
they walked, was close on the other side. People made a long line behind Tor, but he couldn’t hear them for the river’s voice.
How good it was to hear that sound again. He thought of the words “power” and “forever.”
The trail widened. The line bunched up behind him, his people eager to see their new home. The trail opened onto flat ground.
Cliffs curved back away from the river.
Tor stopped. The view filled his senses. He raised his arms to embrace it.
In the Misty Time, before there were people, River Spiritscould walk if they didn’t like where Amotkan put them. Chia-wana had done a lot of walking—signs of it were everywhere. Once
she had carved a bend from the cliffs, only to abandon it, leaving behind a piece of land shaped like an eye. This was Teahra
Village, the place of Tor’s dreams and destiny.
Even better than I remembered,
he thought.
A wall of stone rose at the back—slabs heaped on slabs, looming dark against blue sky, giving refuge from the wind that pushed
against the river as if trying to hold it back. The only tree, a huge oak, spread gold-green leaves against the sheltering
crags.
Tor thought, as he lost the argument with himself.
CHAPTER 8
E NCIRCLED BY THE HEALING STONES, THE TWO M OONKEEPERS —one hunched over the other—might have looked like one large person. But not to Tor. One was his soulmate; the other, his
sister.
Poor little Tenka,
he thought. As the Other Moonkeeper, Tenka must make sure Ashan had everything she needed on her journey with spirits—a great
responsibility for a girl of only thirteen summers—though she’d been trained for it since she was seven or eight.
Tenka was asleep.
“Wake up, Far Away Star,” Tor said, using the name he’d called her as a child. He remembered how their mother used to say,
“Don’t be mean, Tor. Your sister’s name is Rising Star.” But even Luka had to admit that Far Away Star better described her
most of the time.
Tor reached out to touch her. When his hand crossed over the circle of stones, the hairs on his arm stood up. It felt like
there was no air inside the circle. The feeling moved up his arm as he reached farther in.
“Tenka, wake up.” He shook her, and jerked his hand back into familiar air.
She looked up at him with half-closed eyes.
“Mmm?”
“Where are the little ones?”
“Are they gone? Maybe their mothers hid them.”
Tor sighed. How could she lead a tribe when she didn’t even know where the little ones were?
“I’m going to take the people to the village now. They need something to do, or they’ll start fighting.”
“I’ll stay here. I’ll take care of Ashan. Trust me.”
So many refused to take Tenka seriously. With all that had been laid on her young shoulders, she needed her brother’s support.
“I do trust you, Other Moonkeeper. Spirits be with you.”
And with you, my love,
he thought, turning away from Ashan.
Tor looked around for Tsilka. He could have used her help, but she wasn’t here.
Kai El walked up, pulling Tor’s spear along the ground by its point. The boy spoke with pride, holding out the spear that
was twice as tall as himself.
“I looked for it. I found it up there.”
“Thank you, son. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Tor could not have meant it more. He took the spear and hefted it. Made long ago of oak, hardened by fire, bloodied by many
kills, its balanced weight felt good in his hand. It made him more than just a man: With this spear, he was a warrior.
Tor stood tall, bison robe thrown over his shoulder, spear butt in the ground at his side. He spoke in a loud voice.
“It’s time for us to go to Teahra Milage.”
People voiced concerns, but they followed Tor when he walked off. He did not need Tsilka’s help after all.
A breeze freshened the bright afternoon. Sheer rocks edged one side of the narrow trail. The water, flowing in the same direction
they walked, was close on the other side. People made a long line behind Tor, but he couldn’t hear them for the river’s voice.
How good it was to hear that sound again. He thought of the words “power” and “forever.”
The trail widened. The line bunched up behind him, his people eager to see their new home. The trail opened onto flat ground.
Cliffs curved back away from the river.
Tor stopped. The view filled his senses. He raised his arms to embrace it.
In the Misty Time, before there were people, River Spiritscould walk if they didn’t like where Amotkan put them. Chia-wana had done a lot of walking—signs of it were everywhere. Once
she had carved a bend from the cliffs, only to abandon it, leaving behind a piece of land shaped like an eye. This was Teahra
Village, the place of Tor’s dreams and destiny.
Even better than I remembered,
he thought.
A wall of stone rose at the back—slabs heaped on slabs, looming dark against blue sky, giving refuge from the wind that pushed
against the river as if trying to hold it back. The only tree, a huge oak, spread gold-green leaves against the sheltering
crags.
Similar Books
