SummerDanse by Terie Garrison Page A

the cage proved to be an impossible task. First Gradden tried to pull the wooden bars away from the frame. He didn’t seem much surprised when that didn’t work, and he called for something to use to pry the bars away. That didn’t work, either, and I wondered if I should tell him that the whole thing was probably held together with magic. I held my tongue, though, and let him carry on.
    The children stood around watching him, laughing every time he let out a curse until he bellowed at them to leave him alone. They scattered in every direction, but hidden though they might be, their continuing laughter proved they were still watching the spectacle.
    Nothing Gradden did, not even using an axe so large it could’ve sliced me in two with a single stroke, made even a scratch on the wood.
    As he stood leaning against the wagon, panting after his latest effort, Kayva reappeared with a plateful of food that steamed in the cool night air and gave off a delicious odor that stirred my appetite.
    “Here, eat,” she said to Gradden. “The others have already finished.”
    Gradden wiped the sweat from his forehead and took the plate. “I’ve never seen such a thing as this in all my days,” he said, shaking his head.
    Kayva grasped one of the bars and gave it a shake. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps she’s valuable after all.” She turned to me, and in the bright moonlight, I saw her look over my body in an appraising sort of way. “It can wait ’til morning,” she said. “I daresay we can burn her out if nothing else.”
    “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Gradden said around a mouthful of food.
    Kayva bent down and picked up the rope that had been left on the ground next to the wagon. “Come here, girl. At least we need to make sure you can’t make any noise.”
    “No, ma’am, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. I don’t want him to find me.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you don’t at that. One sound from you, though, will change my mind.”
    I sat up for a long time, watching the settlement. Although the dwellings were all large tents rather than fixed buildings, the place had a lived-in feel, as if the group had been here a long time. I wondered how much of their clothing and goods had been stolen from unwary travelers. All of it, probably.
    Several youths started a bonfire in the center of the settlement, and soon people began to gather. The children played some kind of chase game while the adults stood in small groups or sat on rustic chairs.
    A young woman played a lap harp and sang, while an old man accompanied her on a pipe. Sometimes the rest joined in a song, other times they just listened. The man even played a solo on the pipe, a haunting melody that filled me with sadness. As if I didn’t already have enough of that.
    For the scene I observed broke my heart with its simple beauty. I found myself longing to join in, to be part of this community. Instead, I could only watch from the outside, ostracized, looking in.
    I watched for hours, ignoring the throbbing pain that coursed through my body. The children wearied and were taken to bed, and the oldsters turned in soon after. Finally, the musicians packed up their instruments and went to their tents. It wasn’t until only Gradden and Kayva sat at the fire still talking that I turned away from the scene, lay down, and went to sleep wondering what the next day held for me.
    I dreamed about the mountains. I’d been walking a long time, and my hands, toes, and nose were cold. A boy with whom I traveled slipped and fell and broke his leg. I felt sad, because I had no way to help him. Then he started dancing, and I was amazed because you’re not supposed to be able to dance with a broken leg.

    Sometime in the night I was half awakened by a stifling sense of power. I lay with my eyes closed, trying to identify what might be wrong. I was thirsty—oh, so thirsty—and my lips were dry, so I licked them to moisten them a little. Mama’s voice seemed to whisper