The Dawn Country by W. Michael Gear Page B

long, Elder. To have any chance of catching her, we must leave before dawn.”
    Their ancient faces drew tight with indecision.
    Wakdanek said, “Elders, if you will allow it, I would like to go with War Chief Koracoo to help her free the children being held by Gannajero.”
    “Do you think your daughter is there?” Shara asked.
    “I fear she may be. But it doesn’t matter. There are Bog Willow Village children there. One of us must try to rescue them.”
    Shara thoughtfully twisted the parchmentlike hands folded in her lap. “I understand, Nephew, but we need you here. Very few of us escaped the slaughter—almost none of our warriors lived.”
    Wakdanek’s face fell, but he tipped his head in obedience. “Yes, Aunt.”
    Maunbisek lifted a hand. “I cast my voice to allow Wakdanek to go in search of his daughter and the other children. One warrior, more or less, will make no difference to our survival.”
    Winooski sucked his lips in over his toothless gums. After a time, he blew out a breath and said, “If it were me, I wouldn’t care what the council said. I would go find my daughter. Let him go, Shara.”
    Shara’s gaze moved to the last council member. “And you, Kinna? What do you say?”
    Kinna’s pointed hood was canted at an odd angle, as though he’d accidentally tugged it to the right. “Before I vote, I have a question for Maunbisek.”
    Maunbisek frowned. “Yes?”
    “Did you search for your son?”
    Maunbisek’s eyes clouded. He bowed his head. “I searched for moons. I traveled from village to village, asking if anyone had seen Gannajero or a boy resembling my son.” He shook his head. “I never found a single trace of him.”
    “Knowing that, would you do it again?”
    Maunbisek’s head snapped up. “Of course I would. If I hadn’t searched, I’d always feel as though if were my fault because I’d given up. I’d be certain I could have saved him if only I’d tried. Now, and for the rest of my life, at least I can say I did my best to find him, even though I failed.”
    Kinna lifted his gaze to Wakdanek, and the man’s shoulder muscles went tight, bulging through his shirt. “We must let him go, Shara. He will hate us if we don’t. And I, for one, could not bear it. I have loved Wakdanek since he was a boy.”
    Wakdanek whispered, “And I you, Uncle.”
    Koracoo looked around. Were Kinna and Shara husband and wife? The touching way they stared at each other suggested they might be.
    Shara sighed and nodded. “War Chief Koracoo, do you have any objections to Wakdanek accompanying you on your journey?”
    Koracoo gave him a hard look. “I welcome anyone who is good with a bow, Elder. Is he?”
    Shara softly said, “He’s the best shot in the village, though he prefers Healing to killing. Go, Nephew. I pray that Tabaldak, the Owner of the world, watches over you.”
    “Thank you, Elders. I’ll gather my things.” He trotted into the darkness.
    Shara turned to Koracoo. “If you get into trouble, War Chief, look to Wakdanek. For fifteen summers, he has been studying the ways of the Healer. His skills in that regard may save more lives than his skill with a bow. Now, help me up.” She extended a hand.
    Koracoo stood and supported the old woman as she rose to her feet. “If there are no further questions from the council, I’ll walk the war chief back.”
    The three old men shook their heads.
    Shara held Koracoo’s elbow as they headed toward the ravine. Odion followed a step behind.
    “Your council is wise, Elder. I’m grateful to you.”
    “Don’t be too grateful, Koracoo.” Her old eyes scanned the lip of the ravine, moving methodically through the boulders. “Our warriors want revenge, but I’m tired, as are the other elders. We just want to go back and bury our dead; then we must find a new place to rebuild our village. That’s why we did not demand to know the identities of the other members of your party. However, I suspect you have Flint warriors with you