friend of theirs.
Gonda said, “Atotarho is an evil sorcerer. We can’t go there. None of us, including the baby, will survive.”
The Hills People were their sworn enemies. In fact—though he couldn’t be sure—there may have been Atotarho warriors with the Mountain warriors who had attacked Yellowtail Village. The Hills and Mountain Peoples were allies and often combined forces to assault Standing Stone villages.
“We don’t have a choice, Gonda.”
“Of course we have a choice. She’s not one of our people. We can leave her here.”
The expression on Koracoo’s face went straight to his heart. Granted, she had just lost her children in a raid and didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but the way she clutched the baby against her made no sense. They could not take it with them.
“I can’t leave her to die,” she said sternly. “Let’s go.”
Koracoo started to walk past him, and he grabbed her arm in a hard grip. “No! If you and I are captured or killed, our children may be lost forever. Leave the baby here!”
Koracoo shook off his grip and glared at him, but he saw bone-deep pain in her eyes. “Very well. We’ll split up. You keep following this trail. As soon as I’ve found a safe place where the baby will be cared for, I’ll catch up with you.”
He shook his head as though he hadn’t heard right. “I’m not going to let you walk into a Hills village alone. If they kill you on sight, I’ll never forgive myself.” He held out his arms. “Give me the child. I’ll take it away and you won’t even have to watch.”
The baby mewed, barely audible, and Koracoo’s expression turned to stone. “Gonda, you can either keep following this trail, or come with me. Either way, we’re losing the light.”
Gonda exhaled hard. Arguing more would be futile. He threw up his hands in frustration, and said, “I’ll go with you, but you’re insane.”
“Fine. You lead.”
He checked the sunlight, nocked his bow again, and headed west. The deep leaves made it impossible to walk quietly. Even though wet, they shished and crackled beneath his moccasins. Behind him, he could hear Koracoo speaking gently to the child, telling it not to be afraid, that everything was going to be all right—which he seriously doubted.
Over his shoulder he said, “And you’d better hide CorpseEye somewhere. Everyone knows that club and wants it. They’ll steal it for sure.”
“I will.”
He’d taken another ten steps when he came to a deep pile of leaves. He kicked his way through them, launching several wet clumps high into the air … and stopped dead in the trail. Hot blood surged through his veins, and he suddenly felt light-headed.
In a shaking voice, he said, “Koracoo?”
“What?”
He aimed his bow at the bare patch of ground. “Look.”
It had been raining that day. Dozens of small feet had sunken into the mud and the imprints had been preserved when the ground had frozen. Later, leaves had blown over the top.
Gonda whispered, “It is … isn’t it?”
Koracoo came up beside him, saw the tracks, and sucked in a sudden breath. For the first time in days, she looked directly at him, and their gazes locked. He saw panic in her eyes to match his own. For a few brief instants they shared their fear and grief, and he could finally get a full breath into his lungs.
Koracoo knelt, brushed at the leaves, and scrutinized the tracks. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s definitely the trail of a group of children, but we have no way of knowing whether they are our children or not.”
“Nonetheless, we should follow this trail now. Surely you know that. Forget the baby!”
Koracoo hesitated. Her eyes clung to the small moccasin prints in the mud. Then the baby let out a soft cry, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
“You know I’m right,” he said. “Our children are worth more. I wish we didn’t have to make a choice, but we do.”
In the tawny halo of the light, her beautiful tormented
Gonda said, “Atotarho is an evil sorcerer. We can’t go there. None of us, including the baby, will survive.”
The Hills People were their sworn enemies. In fact—though he couldn’t be sure—there may have been Atotarho warriors with the Mountain warriors who had attacked Yellowtail Village. The Hills and Mountain Peoples were allies and often combined forces to assault Standing Stone villages.
“We don’t have a choice, Gonda.”
“Of course we have a choice. She’s not one of our people. We can leave her here.”
The expression on Koracoo’s face went straight to his heart. Granted, she had just lost her children in a raid and didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but the way she clutched the baby against her made no sense. They could not take it with them.
“I can’t leave her to die,” she said sternly. “Let’s go.”
Koracoo started to walk past him, and he grabbed her arm in a hard grip. “No! If you and I are captured or killed, our children may be lost forever. Leave the baby here!”
Koracoo shook off his grip and glared at him, but he saw bone-deep pain in her eyes. “Very well. We’ll split up. You keep following this trail. As soon as I’ve found a safe place where the baby will be cared for, I’ll catch up with you.”
He shook his head as though he hadn’t heard right. “I’m not going to let you walk into a Hills village alone. If they kill you on sight, I’ll never forgive myself.” He held out his arms. “Give me the child. I’ll take it away and you won’t even have to watch.”
The baby mewed, barely audible, and Koracoo’s expression turned to stone. “Gonda, you can either keep following this trail, or come with me. Either way, we’re losing the light.”
Gonda exhaled hard. Arguing more would be futile. He threw up his hands in frustration, and said, “I’ll go with you, but you’re insane.”
“Fine. You lead.”
He checked the sunlight, nocked his bow again, and headed west. The deep leaves made it impossible to walk quietly. Even though wet, they shished and crackled beneath his moccasins. Behind him, he could hear Koracoo speaking gently to the child, telling it not to be afraid, that everything was going to be all right—which he seriously doubted.
Over his shoulder he said, “And you’d better hide CorpseEye somewhere. Everyone knows that club and wants it. They’ll steal it for sure.”
“I will.”
He’d taken another ten steps when he came to a deep pile of leaves. He kicked his way through them, launching several wet clumps high into the air … and stopped dead in the trail. Hot blood surged through his veins, and he suddenly felt light-headed.
In a shaking voice, he said, “Koracoo?”
“What?”
He aimed his bow at the bare patch of ground. “Look.”
It had been raining that day. Dozens of small feet had sunken into the mud and the imprints had been preserved when the ground had frozen. Later, leaves had blown over the top.
Gonda whispered, “It is … isn’t it?”
Koracoo came up beside him, saw the tracks, and sucked in a sudden breath. For the first time in days, she looked directly at him, and their gazes locked. He saw panic in her eyes to match his own. For a few brief instants they shared their fear and grief, and he could finally get a full breath into his lungs.
Koracoo knelt, brushed at the leaves, and scrutinized the tracks. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s definitely the trail of a group of children, but we have no way of knowing whether they are our children or not.”
“Nonetheless, we should follow this trail now. Surely you know that. Forget the baby!”
Koracoo hesitated. Her eyes clung to the small moccasin prints in the mud. Then the baby let out a soft cry, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
“You know I’m right,” he said. “Our children are worth more. I wish we didn’t have to make a choice, but we do.”
In the tawny halo of the light, her beautiful tormented
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