Morrighan

  He nodded. Then smiled. “So I did. Well done, little brother.” He patted my back and walked away.

  I left early the next day, setting extra snares along the way, carelessly tripping some and having to reset them. I couldn’t concentrate. My focus was splintered, jumping from my last image of Liam, his arms dangling loose from Fergus’s horse, to Reeve’s words—Liam betrayed the clan. He had to die—and then to the image of the mothers hushing their children in camp this morning, afraid of stirring another fight. How could the wild animals that lived beyond the mountains be any worse than this? With the last trap set, I pushed my horse faster to get to Morrighan, blocking out the world, as if the wind rushing past could carry away what lay behind me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Morrighan

  It had been a long morning, and worry needled through me as each hour passed. Though I had finished my chores early, weeding the garden, repairing the frayed baskets, and stripping new rushes for the floor, when I told Ama I was off to gather, she found yet another chore for me, and another. Morning turned to midday. My anxiety burned deeper as I watched her cast glances toward the end of the vale, and when I finally grabbed my bag to leave, she said, “Take Brynna and Micah with you.”

  “No, Ama,” I groaned. “I’ve worked with them through every chore this morning, and neither ceases from their chatter. I need some peace. Can I not at least gather alone?” Worry etched her face, and I stopped, eyeing the furrows across her brow. “What is it?” I went to her, taking her hands in mine and squeezing them. “What’s unsettling you?”

  She swiped a gray strand of hair from her face. “There’s been a raid. Pata went to the flats early this morning to gather salt, and she spotted a tribe traveling south. Their camp three days north of here was attacked by scavengers.”

  I blinked, not quite believing what she said. “Are you certain?”

  She nodded. “They told Pata one of them was named Jafir. Isn’t that the scavenger you met all those years ago?”

  I shook my head, scrambling for an answer, trying to make sense of it. No, not Jafir. “He was just a boy,” I said. “I—I can’t remember his name.” Every part of me was breathless. “It was a long time ago.” My mind spun, and I couldn’t focus. Scavengers? Jafir raiding a camp?

  No.

  No.

  I yanked my doubts to a halt and steadied my breath. “We are safe, Ama. We are hidden. No one knows we are here, and three days north is a very long way.”

  “Three days of walking, yes. But not for scavengers on swift horses.”

  I assured her again, reminding her how long we had been here without ever seeing anyone outside of our tribe. I promised I would be cautious, but said we couldn’t let one sighting miles away make us fearful of our own home. Home. The word floated in my chest, feeling more fragile now.

  She reluctantly let me go, and I hurried down the path to the canyon, through the meadow, and up the steps of the ruin into its dark cavern. He wasn’t there yet. I paced, waiting, sweeping the floor, stacking the books, trying to keep my hands and thoughts busy. How had someone heard Jafir’s name? He spent every day with me.

  Except for those three days he hadn’t come.

  I remembered how he held me when he finally showed up, a strange embrace that felt different. But I knew Jafir. I knew his heart. He wouldn’t—

  I heard footsteps and turned.

  He stood in the doorway, bare-chested as he was most days of summer, tall, his hair a wild mane, his arms tan and muscled, his knife secure at his side. A man. But then I saw him as Ama and the rest of the tribe would. A scavenger. Dangerous. One of them.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked and rushed over to me, holding my arms as if some part of me were injured.

  “There’s been a raid. A tribe in the north was attacked.”

  I saw all I needed to know in his eyes. I pulled free, sobs jumping to my throat. “By the gods, Jafir.” I stumbled away, unable to see clearly, wishing I were anywhere else but here. I staggered deeper into the darkness of the ruin.

  “Let me explain,” he begged, following, grabbing at my hand, trying to stop me.

  I jerked free and whirled. “Explain what?” I yelled. “What did you get, Jafir? Their bread? A baby goat? What did you take that didn’t belong to you?”

  He stared at me, a vein rising on his neck. His chest rose in deep, controlled breaths. “I had no choice, Morrighan. I had to ride with my clan. That is how I got this,” he said, motioning to his bruised face. “My father demanded that I go. Our northern kin were coming and—”

  “And their mouths were more important than the tribe’s?”

  “No. That’s not it at all. It is desperation. It’s—”

  “It is laziness!” I spat. “It is greed! It is—”

  “It is wrong, Morrighan. I know that. I swear to you, after that day, I vowed never to ride with them again, and I won’t. It sickened me, but—” He shook his head and turned away as if he didn’t want me to look upon him. He truly did look sick.

  I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn back to me. “But what, Jafir?”

  “I understood too!” he shouted, no longer apologetic. “When I saw the children eating, when I heard a mother crying, I understood their fear. We die, Morrighan. We die just like you! Not all of us hit our children. Sometimes we die for them—and maybe even do the unspeakable for them.”

  I opened my mouth with a biting reply, but the anguish in his expression made me swallow it. Fatigue washed over me. I looked down at the floor, my shoulders suddenly heavy. “How many?” I asked. “Children?”

  “Eight.” His voice was as thin as mist. “The oldest is four, the youngest only a few months old.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. It was still no excuse!

  “Morrighan. Please.”

  I looked up. He pulled me to his chest, and my tears were warm against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “You’re a scavenger, Jafir,” I said, feeling the hopelessness of who he was.

  “But I want to be more. I will be more.” He lifted my face to his, kissing away a tear on my cheek.

  “So … this is what you’ve been hunting every day.”

  Jafir and I jumped apart, startled by the voice.

  A man walked through the door, a casual swagger to his step. “Well done, brother. You found the tribe. Where’s the rest?”

  “Why are you here?” Jafir demanded.

  “Pretty thing. What’s your name, girl?” he said, ignoring Jafir. His cold blue eyes slowly rolled over me, and I felt like prey in the sights of a hungry animal. He stepped closer, studying me, then smiled.

  “She’s a straggler from the tribe we raided,” Jafir told him. “They are moving on.”

  “I don’t remember seeing her among them.”

  “That’s because your sights were set on another.”

  I couldn’t breathe. A wild beat pounded in my head.

  “Moving on, but not before you have some fun?” He looked back at me. “Come here,” he said, waving me forward with his hand. “I won’t bite.”

  Jafir stepped in front of me. “What do you want, Steffan?”

  “Just what you’ve been enjoying. We are kin. We share.” He moved to step around Jafir, and Jafir lunged at him. They both stumbled back and slammed up against the far wall. Dust rained down around them. Though Jafir was taller, Steffan was stout, built more like a bull, and there was weight behind his fist. He punched Jafir in the gut, then again in the jaw. Jafir staggered back but in the next breath swung, his fist cracking against Steffan’s chin. He lunged again, knocking Steffan to the floor this time, and in an instant, his knife was at Steffan’s throat.

  “Go ahead, brother,” Jafir yelled between heaving breaths. “Move! I’d love to slice this across your thick neck!” He pressed the blade closer.

  Steffan glared at me, then back at his brother. “You are greedy, Jafir. Keep her to yours
elf, then,” he sneered. “Her kind are dull and stupid anyway.”

  Jafir’s chest heaved with anger, his fist still tight on the knife, and I thought he might plunge it deep into his brother’s throat, but he finally stood and ordered Steffan to get up. Steffan did as he was told, indignantly wiping the dust off his clothes as if he had been clean before the fight.

  “Go,” Jafir ordered. “And never come back here. Do you understand?”

  Steffan smirked and left. Jafir stood in the doorway watching him go.

  That was it? Leave?

  My hands shook uncontrollably, and I pressed them to my sides, trying to make the trembling stop. I hadn’t said a word through it all—my throat had frozen in fear. A shaky whisper finally spilled out. “Jafir.” Terror pounded in my head. “How did he find us?”

  Jafir’s eyes were wild, and his lip was bleeding, dripping and staining his chest. “I don’t know. He must have followed me. I was always careful, but today—”

  “What are we going to do?” I sobbed. “He’ll come back! I know he will!”

  Jafir grabbed my hands, trying to stop the shaking. “Yes, he will come back, which means you never can, Morrighan. Ever. We’ll find another place for us—”

  “But the tribe! They’re not far! He’ll find them! How could you let him follow you, Jafir? You promised! You—” I whirled, wiping my brow with the heel of my hand, trying to think, panic rising in me.

  Jafir grabbed my shoulders. “He won’t find the tribe. You said yourself the vale is well hidden. I’ve never found it. Steffan is lazy. He won’t even try.”

  “But what if he tells others?”

  “Tells them what? That he found a girl from a tribe we had already raided? A tribe that had already abandoned their camp and were moving on? You have no worth to them.”

  Jafir insisted on riding me back to the ridge that led to my tribe, just in case his brother had lingered, but Steffan was gone. The meadow and canyon seemed as it always had, quiet and free of threat. My heart began to beat its normal rhythm again. Jafir said he would meet me at a crevasse in the ridge in three days—time for Steffan to cool his heels and believe the raided tribe was long gone and out of reach. He clutched my hand as I slid from his horse, looking at me as if it might be the last time he saw me, a crease between his brows.

  “Three days,” he said again.

  I nodded, worry twisting in my throat, and I finally pulled my hand from his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jafir

  My face stung with the wind. I rode as fast as I could, snatching up my snares as I went. They were all empty, but it didn’t seem to matter. I could only think about Steffan and the way he had smiled at me last night. I understood now. Somehow he had spotted us, seen me riding with Morrighan. Or maybe when we were wading in the pond?

  I retraced our steps, trying to think where it could have been. I never took her anywhere close to our camp, and Steffan was lazy and rarely strayed far from it. But Fergus had been more surly since the arrival of the northern kin. More insistent on building up our stores. No one was to come back empty-handed, and—now it struck me with clarity—of course Steffan would follow on my heels, since I was the better hunter. Maybe it was he who had already emptied my snares.

  The image of him coming upon us flashed through my mind again. Standing in the doorway, composed and confident, with that same smile as the evening before smeared across his face.

  Dread crept through me, and my hands tightened on the reins. How long had he been standing there listening? Fear exploded through my veins. Morrighan. I tried to remember every word I’d said, but it was all a jumble—me trying to convince her I would never raid a tribe again, the despair in her eyes, the disappointment, my promises. But did I say her name? Did he hear me call her Morrighan?

  What’s your name, girl? he had asked.

  Why would Steffan care about a name unless he suspected? Unless he’d heard.

  And the name Morrighan was of great worth—at least to one person—which made it valuable to Steffan too.

  When I got back to camp, I jumped from my horse, not bothering to tether it. Laurida carried a child on her hip, letting it sip from a cup of broth.

  “Where is Steffan?” I demanded.

  She looked at me, lifting a single suspicious brow. “What is all the hurry today?” she asked. “Steffan just stormed past too. He’s down at the lodge ring with the others. Harik and his men meet with Fergus—passing the brew.”

  Sweat sprung to my face. No, not Harik. Not today. I ran to the lodge, but it was already too late. Steffan was strutting around the cold fire ring, announcing his find to them all—a girl of the tribespeople.

  “I found her,” he said. “Morrighan.”

  The group fell silent. Harik’s features sharpened, and he leaned forward. Of course Steffan didn’t mention me—the find had to be all his. He basked in the attention of Harik and Fergus, telling them the story of his stealth.

  I glared at him. “How would you know it’s her?”

  “She was talking to a foolish little maiden who squeaked her name.”

  When Fergus asked why he hadn’t brought her there, Steffan claimed he was on his horse on a ridge above them, and when the girls spotted him, they ran. But he saw the direction they headed. The camp was near. I was almost in awe at how quickly he conjured stories. I knew it was not to protect me but to keep all the glory to himself.

  Harik took a long sip of his brew. “Then that means the old woman is near too. So many years…” He said it more to himself than to us. His voice was thick with curiosity. “Their supplies are probably great.” But his interest seemed to be in more than just their stores of food.

  They began to make plans to ride to the camp, and Steffan quickly backtracked, saying he hadn’t seen exactly where it was, but he could lead them close enough, and at night they would surely see a fire to help lead them.

  I stepped forward, scoffing at Steffan’s claim. “I saw the tribe we raided a few days ago just east of here and heading south,” I said. “She was probably one of them. Why waste our time?”

  Steffan insisted she wasn’t one of them, and the more I argued that we shouldn’t go, the angrier he got—the angrier everyone got, except Harik. He regarded me with a cool eye, his chin lifting slightly. Everyone noticed and quieted.

  “Let the boy stay behind if that’s what he wants,” he said as he stood. “But he’ll enjoy none of the fruits of our ride.” He looked at Fergus for confirmation.

  Fergus glared at me. I had humiliated him in front of Harik. “None,” he confirmed.

  They all moved toward their horses—our men plus Harik and his four. I couldn’t stop them all. I had to go along.

  “I’m coming,” I said, already trying to think of ways I could lead them astray. And if I couldn’t 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 before—not 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 day—or 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 stood and looked the length of our vale as far as the firelight would let me see, the heaviness gripped me again, squeezing away my breath. It made no sense. There was nothing but peace, but then Ama came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “What are you feeling?” she asked.

  I saw it in her eyes too.