Feather (14 page)

Lex's people were marching northward.

Feather’s anticipation grew as they traveled along swiftly. Winter was over, and the wounded were stronger now. They marched from sunup to dusk, and little Tarni ran along beside his mother for longer stretches each day. When he tired, Dell scooped him up and sat him on his shoulders.

Cade was healthy now and was counted with the warriors when they raided or hunted. When he and Tag returned from an expedition, Feather did not ask questions. She ate the food that was given her and went on, thinking always of her home.

Patch was the size of a large dog now. His body was long and lithe. When he wrestled with Tag, he kept his claws sheathed, but in hunting he was merciless. He brought down larger game now—a pronghorn, a small deer, and even a half-grown pig. Lex laughingly called him “the meat giver.”

Tag was held in high esteem, and Feather was sure most of the tribe members feared the panther. They thought Patch somehow transferred power to his owner. The cat allowed Feather to stroke him and throw him bits of food, but if anyone else besides Tag came close, Patch snarled and showed his fangs. As a result, everyone kept a respectful distance.

Tag no longer kept him on a rope. He knew Patch would return to him after hunting and roaming the plains.

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll find some other panthers and leave you?” Cade asked.

“No. His heart is mine,” Tag said, but Feather wondered what would happen at the end of summer, when the Blens congregated near the City of Cats once more.

After a nighttime raid, Tag came to her and hurried her away from the others.

“Hide these!”

She felt the hard, flat objects he gave her, and even in the darkness, she knew they were books.

“How will we keep anyone from seeing them?”

“Just keep them in the bottom of your pack. Someday we will find a chance to look at them. One of them has pictures, Feather!”

“Pictures?”

“Yes! Animals wearing clothes. It is very strange.”

It was hard for her to go to sleep that night as she thought about the books in the pack beneath her head.

I t must be meant for children,” she insisted a few days later. The Blens were camped at a river crossing, and Lex had called a day of rest and hunting. Patch was stretched out beside them on the new grass, soaking up the weak sunshine.

Tag frowned, leafing through the slender book once more. “Maybe, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. Books for children?”

“There are lots of things we have never heard of,” Feather pointed out.

Slowly Tag struggled with the words. “The . . . fox . . . tock . . . no, took . . . his . . . sack . . .”

“You see,” Feather whispered in excitement. “It has to be a made up story for children. A fox couldn’t carry a sack like that.” She stared at the drawing of a wily fox, walking upright with a bag slung over his shoulder. “No one would believe this was real.”

Tag sighed. “I wish my old teacher was here. He could tell us what it means.”

“What about this one?” Feather asked. She picked up the second volume. It was even smaller than the one with the pictures of the fox. The cover was soft leather.

Tag opened it, turning the first few pages impatiently. “The say . . . sayings of . . . Hen . . . Henbee.” He grimaced. “It’s too hard.”

Feather blinked at him. “The sayings of Henbee?”

“I think that’s what it says. But what is Henbee?”

Feather looked off toward the river, thinking. “It must be a name.”

“It must be.”

“Perhaps it is full of the things this person Henbee said.”

“Why?”

She shrugged.

A small sound caught her ear, and Feather turned. Denna stood behind the rock they were using to shield them from the camp. She leaned over it and peered down at them.

“What are you two doing?”

“Nothing.” Feather gulped.

“You have books!”

Tag had tried to hide them hastily under his thigh. He made a face at Feather but said nothing.

“Don’t tell!” Feather looked up at Denna, suddenly afraid.

“You aren’t supposed to keep plunder without Lex’s permission. And if you had permission, you wouldn’t look so guilty.”

“It’s nothing,” Tag said. “I can’t even read it very well. It’s just . . .”

“It’s a stupid story about a fox who wears clothes,” Feather said.

“Let me see.”

“No.” Tag didn’t move to show her the books.

Denna’s eyes narrowed. “I can get you in trouble.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Tag asked, but Feather thought she knew. Denna had disliked her since the day she joined the Blens. Maybe it was something about the way she looked or talked, or the attention given to her because of her skill in fletching, but for whatever reason, she had no doubt that Denna would be glad to see her punished.

“Lex wants you,” Denna said to Tag, without answering his question.

“Fine. I’ll be right there.”

Denna turned and walked away.

“Do you think she will tell?” Feather asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll just wait until she sees a way to use it to get something.” He handed over the books, and Feather shoved them into her pack.

Tag rose and whistled to Patch. The panther stretched and got up. On his glistening sides, the dark spots of the adult were appearing.

“He’s huge,” Feather said.

Tag smiled and stroked the cat’s head. “I’ll come back later. And don’t leave your pack lying around where Denna can snoop in it.”

A fter supper that evening, when Tag met her once more behind the rock, Feather leaned close and said, “Denna says she won’t tell if we let her see the book and you read the story to her.”

“I can’t even read it to myself yet.” Tag looked over the rock, back toward the camp, then sat down.

“She doesn’t know about the other books,” Feather said. “I didn’t tell her we have three now.”

“Just as well. Although I like the fox one best. We don’t want her to take it away or tell the leaders about it. Then they might take it to trade.”

“Or use for tinder,” Feather agreed.

“I don’t think they’d do that if they saw the pictures. But they might burn the others.” Tag opened the illustrated book and smiled. “I think this is a funny story. See how the fox is after the bird. But over here, the bird is up in the tree. He got away from the fox.”

“See if you can figure out the words,” Feather pleaded. “I’ll keep watch.”

“All right.” He bent over the book.

After several minutes, he said. “Ah! It’s as I thought. The fox thinks he is smart, but the crow outwits him.”

“Should I tell Denna tonight that you’ll read it to her?”

Tag frowned up at her. “What do you think?”

“It might be best. But I know she doesn’t like me. She still might tell on us to harm me.”

“Maybe she’ll like you more if we read together.”

Feather sighed. “If we start getting together too much, other people will be curious.”

T wo nights later Feather took Denna aside when the chores were done. It was still light, and they hurried toward a patch of brush.

“Tag will meet us in the middle of the bushes,” Feather said. She and Denna pushed aside the branches. When they found a sheltered spot they sat down, and Feather took out the fox book.

“Here, you can hold it, but be careful. The pictures tell the story, but Tag can read most of it now. You will see how funny it is.”

Denna’s eyes grew large as she stared at the colorful scene on the cover.

“Can you read too?” she asked.

Feather shook her head. “None of my people can read. We wish we could. Our oldest man remembered books and stories, but the knowledge of reading is lost to our tribe.”

Denna’s expression was sympathetic. “What is your tribe? I’ve never heard you speak of them.”

“It is a small tribe.” Feather was about to say softly, “The Wobans,” when she caught herself. “Hana says it is best if I forget my old home and think only of the Blens now.”

“That is true. I am not so sad when I think of this tribe as my family.”

“You were not born a Blen either?”

“Who is born a Blen?”

“Well, Tarni.”

Denna smiled. “Yes. Tarni is the first baby I’ve ever known to be allowed to live with the Blens.”

“Weren’t there other babies in the past?”

“Yes, but the mothers had to get rid of them or leave the tribe. They would rather snatch older children, like you, who can march and do the slave work. I was your age when they took me. It seems so long ago now.”

Denna’s eyes grew misty, and Feather was shocked to find herself wondering if she could trust Denna. Perhaps they could be friends after all.

The bushes rustled, and the great panther slid between the lowest branches. Denna gasped and pulled her legs up under her.

“Make him go away!”

Tag’s laugh preceded him into their sanctuary. He put his hand on Patch’s head. “Lie down, boy.” As the cat stretched out, he said to Denna, “He won’t hurt you unless I want him to.”

Denna squinted up at him, and her expression was no longer wistful but awed. “How did you get such power over him?”

Tag smiled and sat down beside Feather. “Ah, that is a secret.”

Denna was clearly not satisfied. “Read, then.” She thrust the book into his hands. “I don’t know how you rule the cat, but there is something very, very strange about you.”

“It’s a homestead,” Hardy said in wonder, as they looked down on the cabin and fenced pasture below them in the shadow of the hill.

“I never would have guessed this was here,” Shea said. “Let’s go and meet these people.”

“We’ll scare them if we all march up to the door,” Neal said.

“I’ll go,” said Hunter. “The rest of you wait here.”

He returned a quarter of an hour later to where Karsh and the men waited in the shade.

“They seem like good people,” Hunter reported. “And the man knew about us. Can you believe it?”

“How?” asked Shea.

“He said he saw our smoke last fall when he was out hunting. He didn’t dare come near, but he suspected someone was living up our valley.”

“How many folk are here?” Neal asked.

“Just him and his wife and their three children.”

“A dangerous place to homestead,” Shea said with a frown.

“They have been here five years. I told them if they ever need refuge to come to our village. And they might be interested in trading with us. The wife would like to get some fleece.”

They left the secluded valley, and an hour later they came upon a herd of elk. Karsh was glad, since it meant they would soon head home. As much as he had longed to hunt with the men, he found that he missed his reading lessons terribly. With Hardy and Hunter, he spent many hours studying the history books and planning to build one of the siege engines pictured. He was certain they could do it. He thought about the diagrams in the book as he walked along behind Hunter.

When they returned to the village on the first clear day following their hunt, Karsh slipped away from the village and returned to the berry patch where Feather had been captured. It seemed different now that they had excavated the cellar hole.

He entered the thicket and peeked out down the hillside, as he had the day the Blens took Feather.

“I will find you, Feather,” he said aloud.

He stood still for a long time. The wind blew chilly from the river. The young grass rippled. The berry bushes were leafing out, but had not yet blossomed. How would he find Feather? He could not expect to help her by staying in the safety of the village. Would he have to go off on his own, southward toward where the Blens wintered, hoping to intercept the band that held her?

Karsh looked up toward the ridge. Somewhere up there, Rand was keeping watch. Had he seen him cross the ridge and come down here? If so, he was probably angry and would scold him for going off by himself. Karsh felt very small and alone.

When he climbed the ridge again, he was surprised to find Hunter waiting for him at the crest. Karsh looked along the high ground and saw Rand farther up.

“You are thinking of Feather,” said Hunter.

Karsh nodded. “Did you follow me?”

“Yes. I was concerned about you.”

Karsh walked ahead of him down the steep trail. Before they reached the village the path widened, and Hunter came up beside him.

“Be comforted to know she is alive.”

Karsh bit his lip. Yes, she was alive at some point after she left them. She had made an arrow for the Blens last fall. That did not mean she had survived the winter.

“It is not enough,” he said.

Hunter sighed. “Be patient, Karsh.”

L ate that night, Karsh woke in the lodge. He heard the soft murmur of voices.

“The boy mourns inside for his sister,” Sam said.

“Yes. They were very close.” It was Hunter’s voice.

“The Blens took two boys from outside my town once,” Sam said sadly. “It was back a while, before the final attack when the entire town was destroyed. We chased after the Blens and tried to get the boys back, but the warriors were too strong. The boys’ families were killed in the raid.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, it’s been two or three years. I never expect to see them again. As it turned out, they may be better off with the Blens than they would have been at home. Our town was ransacked and burned last year, and few survived.”

“You lost your family then,” Hunter said.

“Yes.”

The men fell silent. Karsh squeezed his eyes tight shut to keep the tears back. The people where Sam had lived might be weak, but Feather was strong. She would live, even among the vicious Blens, and he would see her again. He would not stop hoping.