chest.
Flint shifted uncertainly. “Of course not, Priest.”
Strongheart took Sora by the arm and guided her away from the Captives’ House. As they walked, he said, “You’re shaking. Did they hurt you?”
She glanced sidelong at him. Anger had strained his voice.
“No. Given more time, they might have, but Flint was in a hurry.”
He led her to his house and held aside the door curtain. “Go in. There are warm blankets by the fire. You must be cold.”
Sora ducked into his house and looked around. The firelight silhouetted the baskets and pots that sat beneath the bench encircling the walls. Blankets had been laid out by the fire, as though prepared for her. She walked to them and eased down. Warmth seeped from the cloth and penetrated her damp dress.
Strongheart knelt to her right and studied her for a long time, his gaze taking in the old leaves tangled in her hair and the blood that oozed from her split lip. He was a homely man, his round face too wide, his bulging eyes too big, but he had a powerful presence.
He gestured to her mouth. “Which one did that?”
“Flint.” She touched her lip and winced. “He was a little too ‘eager.’”
Strongheart didn’t say a word. He just rose to his feet, and walked around the fire to the pot that sat in the coals. As he picked it up by the handle, he checked another small pot that perched on the hearthstones and said, “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “No. I was, but … not now.”
“A cup of tea, perhaps?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He dipped a cup into the pot hanging from the tripod at the edge of the flames and handed it to her.
“Won’t your chief be angry that I’m here, rather than in the Captives’ House?”
“I’ll risk it.”
Sora drank slowly, savoring the sweet flavors of maple sap and dried cactus fruit. “Why did you help me?”
“You needed my help, didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
He dipped up a cup of tea for himself and sank to the floor a short distance away. After drinking and swallowing, he said, “My spies didn’t inform me that you’d been taken until too late.”
Clutching her cup in both hands, she rested it upon her drawn-up knees and stared at him. “I would find new spies if I were you.”
His brows lifted. “Yes, that’s good advice.”
She took a long drink of tea and let the warmth filter through her cold muscles. A creeping sensation of helplessness vied inside her with the certain knowledge that she would figure a way out of this. She always had. No matter what boulders life had rolled into her path, she had always found a way around them. When her father died and her mother blamed her, she had sent her reflection-soul flying with the Cloud People, where no one could find it. After her sister drowned, she had fought ferocious waves to get to shore and then wandered alone in the freezing forest until she’d gotten close enough to home that her people had found her. When Flint divorced her …
Her belly twisted as though a stiletto were being slowly turned in her intestines.
“Are you all right?” Strongheart asked in concern.
She squeezed her eyes closed. “No. But I will be. I just need some time.”
Strongheart didn’t speak for a time; then he said, “Do you know why he hurt you?”
“We hurt each other for fourteen winters. Nothing has changed.”
She let out a long breath, opened her eyes, and found Strongheart watching her intently.
“You are the accused murderer of Chief Blue Bow. Every action Flint takes to demean you raises his status among my people.”
When he divorced me I splintered like a wooden doll hit with a war club, but I mended myself. I can fix this, too. If only I had Wink to talk to, I —
“There is only one person you can rely upon now. You know that, don’t you?” he softly asked.
“Who?”
He leaned forward. “Sora, a disgraced chieftess, thirty-two winters old, alone and frightened. Everyone else you think you need, you do
Flint shifted uncertainly. “Of course not, Priest.”
Strongheart took Sora by the arm and guided her away from the Captives’ House. As they walked, he said, “You’re shaking. Did they hurt you?”
She glanced sidelong at him. Anger had strained his voice.
“No. Given more time, they might have, but Flint was in a hurry.”
He led her to his house and held aside the door curtain. “Go in. There are warm blankets by the fire. You must be cold.”
Sora ducked into his house and looked around. The firelight silhouetted the baskets and pots that sat beneath the bench encircling the walls. Blankets had been laid out by the fire, as though prepared for her. She walked to them and eased down. Warmth seeped from the cloth and penetrated her damp dress.
Strongheart knelt to her right and studied her for a long time, his gaze taking in the old leaves tangled in her hair and the blood that oozed from her split lip. He was a homely man, his round face too wide, his bulging eyes too big, but he had a powerful presence.
He gestured to her mouth. “Which one did that?”
“Flint.” She touched her lip and winced. “He was a little too ‘eager.’”
Strongheart didn’t say a word. He just rose to his feet, and walked around the fire to the pot that sat in the coals. As he picked it up by the handle, he checked another small pot that perched on the hearthstones and said, “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “No. I was, but … not now.”
“A cup of tea, perhaps?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He dipped a cup into the pot hanging from the tripod at the edge of the flames and handed it to her.
“Won’t your chief be angry that I’m here, rather than in the Captives’ House?”
“I’ll risk it.”
Sora drank slowly, savoring the sweet flavors of maple sap and dried cactus fruit. “Why did you help me?”
“You needed my help, didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
He dipped up a cup of tea for himself and sank to the floor a short distance away. After drinking and swallowing, he said, “My spies didn’t inform me that you’d been taken until too late.”
Clutching her cup in both hands, she rested it upon her drawn-up knees and stared at him. “I would find new spies if I were you.”
His brows lifted. “Yes, that’s good advice.”
She took a long drink of tea and let the warmth filter through her cold muscles. A creeping sensation of helplessness vied inside her with the certain knowledge that she would figure a way out of this. She always had. No matter what boulders life had rolled into her path, she had always found a way around them. When her father died and her mother blamed her, she had sent her reflection-soul flying with the Cloud People, where no one could find it. After her sister drowned, she had fought ferocious waves to get to shore and then wandered alone in the freezing forest until she’d gotten close enough to home that her people had found her. When Flint divorced her …
Her belly twisted as though a stiletto were being slowly turned in her intestines.
“Are you all right?” Strongheart asked in concern.
She squeezed her eyes closed. “No. But I will be. I just need some time.”
Strongheart didn’t speak for a time; then he said, “Do you know why he hurt you?”
“We hurt each other for fourteen winters. Nothing has changed.”
She let out a long breath, opened her eyes, and found Strongheart watching her intently.
“You are the accused murderer of Chief Blue Bow. Every action Flint takes to demean you raises his status among my people.”
When he divorced me I splintered like a wooden doll hit with a war club, but I mended myself. I can fix this, too. If only I had Wink to talk to, I —
“There is only one person you can rely upon now. You know that, don’t you?” he softly asked.
“Who?”
He leaned forward. “Sora, a disgraced chieftess, thirty-two winters old, alone and frightened. Everyone else you think you need, you do
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