help lead them.
I stepped forward, scoffing at Steffanâs claim. âI saw the tribe we raided a few days ago just east of here and heading south,â I said. âShe was probably one of them. Why waste our time?â
Steffan insisted she wasnât one of them, and the more I argued that we shouldnât go, the angrier he gotâthe angrier everyone got, except Harik. He regarded me with a cool eye, his chin lifting slightly. Everyone noticed and quieted.
âLet the boy stay behind if thatâs what he wants,â he said as he stood. âBut heâll enjoy none of the fruits of our ride.â He looked at Fergus for confirmation.
Fergus glared at me. I had humiliated him in front of Harik. âNone,â he confirmed.
They all moved toward their horsesâour men plus Harik and his four. I couldnât stop them all. I had to go along.
âIâm coming,â I said, already trying to think of ways I could lead them astray. And if I couldnât do that and they should find the camp, I knew I had to keep myself between Steffan and Morrighan.
Chapter Seventeen
Morrighan
Jafir and I had had a lifetime between us. There seemed to be no beforeânot one that mattered. My days were measured not in hours but by the flecks of color that danced in his eyes as he looked into mine, by the sun on our hands laced together, our shoulders touching as we read. His smile came easily now, the scowling skinny boy a hazy memory. His smile. My stomach squeezed.
We had something that was too long and lasting to be wiped away in a single dayâor by a mistake. He had promised he would never ride with them again. And now he had promised three days. In three days we would see each other again. Begin anew and make plans for a new safer meeting place.
For a few hours, it comforted me beyond reason. It spoke of the future. Three days. Jafir believed all would be right again. This would pass. My stomach settled. My pulse quieted. There was no need to alert the rest of the tribe and worry them. I went about my evening duties, but I knew that Pata and Oni noted I had brought nothing back with me today. I always brought something, even if was only a few seeds or a handful of herbs. But they said nothing to Ama who was busy trussing the boar with Vincente. Maybe they thought I was sick. I rubbed my forehead a few times and saw a knowing nod pass between them. I tried to keep all my other actions and words casual.
But as dusk turned to night, even as we lifted up the skins and rushes to let a breeze pass through the long house in the summer heat, even as I added twigs and branches to the fire to keep the boar roasting, I knew. Jafir and I would not meet at the crevasse in three days. We would not meet there ever.
It is in the sorrows.
In the fear.
In the need.
That is when the knowing gains wings.
Ama had used many different ways to explain it to me. When the few who were left had nothing else, they had to return to the way of knowing. It is how they survived.
But this knowing that crouched in my gut felt nothing like wings.
Instead it was something dark and heavy, spreading, squeezing at each knot of my spine one at a time, like steps getting closer. Those few days would come and go, and Jafir would not be there.
I leaned against the longhouse pole, looking into the dark hollows between the trees where crickets chirped their night songs, oblivious to what I felt in my heart. The twins danced near the fire, excited about the boar. Though they were eight years old, they had never tasted one, and its aroma hung in the air, lusty and pungent. Carys had bludgeoned it as she collected mushrooms in the shade of the poplar. It was a rare treat.
We took our meal outside, sitting on woven mats around the fire, and once I had eaten, I felt better. Nedra whistled a tune, adding to the festive air. My spirit lifted temporarily, and I wondered if hunger was what had been bothering me all along.
But as I
I stepped forward, scoffing at Steffanâs claim. âI saw the tribe we raided a few days ago just east of here and heading south,â I said. âShe was probably one of them. Why waste our time?â
Steffan insisted she wasnât one of them, and the more I argued that we shouldnât go, the angrier he gotâthe angrier everyone got, except Harik. He regarded me with a cool eye, his chin lifting slightly. Everyone noticed and quieted.
âLet the boy stay behind if thatâs what he wants,â he said as he stood. âBut heâll enjoy none of the fruits of our ride.â He looked at Fergus for confirmation.
Fergus glared at me. I had humiliated him in front of Harik. âNone,â he confirmed.
They all moved toward their horsesâour men plus Harik and his four. I couldnât stop them all. I had to go along.
âIâm coming,â I said, already trying to think of ways I could lead them astray. And if I couldnât do that and they should find the camp, I knew I had to keep myself between Steffan and Morrighan.
Chapter Seventeen
Morrighan
Jafir and I had had a lifetime between us. There seemed to be no beforeânot one that mattered. My days were measured not in hours but by the flecks of color that danced in his eyes as he looked into mine, by the sun on our hands laced together, our shoulders touching as we read. His smile came easily now, the scowling skinny boy a hazy memory. His smile. My stomach squeezed.
We had something that was too long and lasting to be wiped away in a single dayâor by a mistake. He had promised he would never ride with them again. And now he had promised three days. In three days we would see each other again. Begin anew and make plans for a new safer meeting place.
For a few hours, it comforted me beyond reason. It spoke of the future. Three days. Jafir believed all would be right again. This would pass. My stomach settled. My pulse quieted. There was no need to alert the rest of the tribe and worry them. I went about my evening duties, but I knew that Pata and Oni noted I had brought nothing back with me today. I always brought something, even if was only a few seeds or a handful of herbs. But they said nothing to Ama who was busy trussing the boar with Vincente. Maybe they thought I was sick. I rubbed my forehead a few times and saw a knowing nod pass between them. I tried to keep all my other actions and words casual.
But as dusk turned to night, even as we lifted up the skins and rushes to let a breeze pass through the long house in the summer heat, even as I added twigs and branches to the fire to keep the boar roasting, I knew. Jafir and I would not meet at the crevasse in three days. We would not meet there ever.
It is in the sorrows.
In the fear.
In the need.
That is when the knowing gains wings.
Ama had used many different ways to explain it to me. When the few who were left had nothing else, they had to return to the way of knowing. It is how they survived.
But this knowing that crouched in my gut felt nothing like wings.
Instead it was something dark and heavy, spreading, squeezing at each knot of my spine one at a time, like steps getting closer. Those few days would come and go, and Jafir would not be there.
I leaned against the longhouse pole, looking into the dark hollows between the trees where crickets chirped their night songs, oblivious to what I felt in my heart. The twins danced near the fire, excited about the boar. Though they were eight years old, they had never tasted one, and its aroma hung in the air, lusty and pungent. Carys had bludgeoned it as she collected mushrooms in the shade of the poplar. It was a rare treat.
We took our meal outside, sitting on woven mats around the fire, and once I had eaten, I felt better. Nedra whistled a tune, adding to the festive air. My spirit lifted temporarily, and I wondered if hunger was what had been bothering me all along.
But as I
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