Darkthaw (15 page)

The mend job is ugly. Couldn't stop my hands from shaking, so I've puckered the skin in some places and pulled it other places. A jagged line of coarse black stitches stretches from under Isi's shoulder blade to his waist. But the blood flow has stopped, and it'll have to do.

I help him into a fresh shirt and watch him repack his supplies in his torn pack.

“Thank you,” I say. “For what you did for Daniel and me.”

He keeps packing.

“I—I didn't know what to do back there. I was so scared.”

He stops.

“Thank you,” I say again.

His voice is bitter. “I should've stayed with Matisa.”

I swallow and look around the quiet forest. “Think it's safe to go back?”

Isi looks at me strange. He hops up and slings his pack to his good side.

I push to my feet.

“Isi?”

“Do what you want,” he says. “I'm going after Matisa.” He turns and starts off into the brush, leaving me staring after him.

“ISI!”

He doesn't stop.

“Isi!”
I sprint after him and catch his arm.

He spins, pulling it away. And the look on his face—

My blood freezes. Seen him angry before, but not like this. Looks as if he'll strike me. His eyes are dark, his whole body pulses with fury. And something else: fear.

I step back, my legs shaking and unsteady. “Please don't leave,” I say, my voice too high.

“I am going after Matisa,” he says again, his voice low and dangerous.

“I know, but . . . what about”—I swallow—“us?”

“Matisa and I are going back to our people. You should do the same.”

“But what if there's no one left back there?”

“That is not my concern.”

“But—”

“I don't care what happens to you!”

I inhale, sharp. He can't mean it.

“You have done nothing but bring us danger,” he spits out. “We need to leave before you bring us death.”

My air is closing off. I put a hand on the nearest tree to steady myself. “I—I know you're angry. But we need to stick together,” I say.

He scoffs. “Like we stuck together with Charlie?”

My insides roil. Rebecca swinging the knife, Charlie near taking Isi's face off with the rifle. Mayhap they were scared, couldn't see well in the dark. Mayhap Charlie fled the chaos. Could be he had to escape and saw his chance to take the horses. Still . . .

“I'm sorry. I don't know what happened . . .” I cover my face with my hands and scrub at my eyes, determined not to cry. “I'm sorry,” I say again.

“Sorry does Matisa no good.”

I shove down the panic mounting in my chest. He hates me, I know that. But I can't let him go.

“I know you need to go after Matisa,” I say. “Of course you—we—do. But—come back with me to the homestead first? Don't know what's back there—” I stop myself as Andre's and Sister Violet's shredded bodies surface in my mind. Can't think about Kane being among them.

He shakes his head. “Me coming along will not change what you find there.”

“But if there's no one, Daniel and I won't survive out here alone.”

“That is not my concern,” he says again.

Shock surges through me. “Why did you bother saving us?”

He looks away.

“Why
didn't
you stay with Matisa? If you're willing to let us die now?”

“Em?”

I spin. Daniel is awake, and he's fighting with the cloak, trying to stand. He pushes mussed hair from his eyes, and as he focuses on me and Isi, his face breaks with relief. “Isi!” he says.

I look back. The darkness has left Isi's face; in its place is uncertainty.

“You're all right!” Daniel says.

Isi's face loses its hard edge fully. And now I see. He wasn't saving me; he was saving Daniel. Course he was. A strange, hurt flush rises up, but I push it away. Doesn't matter why he saved me; him not leaving us is all that matters.

Daniel kicks free of the cloak, and I hold out my hand for him to come to us. I put on a bright smile. “Isi's all right, Daniel! You did such a good job of holding that lantern last night.” I glance at Isi. He looks trapped. And I see my advantage.

“Knew you'd be all right,” Daniel says, pleased. His little face is still grimy—tears have dried in large streaks—but it's clear he's so relieved, he's forgetting his fear. He stops and looks at us. “Where are you going?”

I put my arm around Daniel's little shoulders and draw him close. I hate myself, but I'm too desperate. “We're going to see where the others went.”

Isi gives me a look that would tan the hide off a deer.

“Good,” Daniel says. “I want my ma.”

My insides roil. This is awful. This is so awful. “We'll go find her,” I say. “All of us together.”

Isi's face changes from anger to sick shock.

“All right,” Daniel says, and holds out his other hand to Isi.

Isi takes Daniel's hand and bends his head toward mine. “You are death,” he mutters.

My hands shake as we head back toward the homestead. The ball of ice in my chest is back, and it's weighing me down like a river rock. I stumble twice as we push through the brush, my heart beating double time when we come to the last row of trees and step out into the morning sun.

The flats are empty. Past the cabin are two unmoving bodies. Unrecognizable from here, but I know it's Frère Andre and Sister Violet—lying where they were gunned down. Our attackers have taken their fallen with them. That, or they weren't that wounded.

I stare past the charred remnants, elation and devastation warring in my heart. Kane's not here—his body's not here. That's good. But . . .

Kane's not here.

The cabin is smoldering in the pink morning sky, just chunks of blackened wood now. The wall with the door has crumbled and disappeared into the rubble, taking that horrid figure with it.

Wind whistles across the flats, stirring the branches of the woods to the west. Thanks be, it's also sending the smell of burnt timber and flesh away from us. I look over at Daniel.

“You stay here while we look around.” I point to the riverbank.
“See how many skips you can make.” I gesture to the rocks. “I see a good one there.”

“But where's my ma?” he asks.

“We're going to”—I can't find words—“figure that.” I throw a desperate look at Isi. “You just stay here a mite.”

Isi stares back, his eyes stony.

Daniel nods, reluctant, and heads for the bank.

Isi turns and paces away. I force myself to follow a few strides but stop, unable to get my feet going again. I should go over there, I should go to Andre, to Violet, but I can't seem to move. Isi walks ahead, staring hard at the trampled grass as he goes. Soon he's past the bodies and headed toward where I saw Kane last.

I watch as Isi kneels and turns something over. A third body—my heart stutters, my breath closes off.

But now I see it's small, with a dirty tunic and straw mess of hair.

“That J-J-Josiah?”

Isi straightens and nods. I breathe deep, washed with shame that I'm relieved. But thank Almighty it isn't—

Stop thinking about it
.

Isi continues his careful look through the grasses, disappears around the rise of the coulee a moment, and suddenly he's striding back toward me. “Three of your group are dead. There are many tracks that lead off into the woods, some into the coulees.”

Your group
. “Tracks?”

“Horses and humans, all mixed together.”

“You think Kane's all right?”

“If he were hurt or worse, we would find him here.”

I want to believe him. Could have been enough time for Kane to get back into the coulees. But if that's true, wouldn't he come back here? I choke down the panic that rises in my throat.

“What is . . . this?”

“A newcomer homestead.”

“How can you tell?”

“We have more sense than to build something like this out in the open, unprotected.”

I look at the ruined cabin. He's right about it being unprotected. Whoever built this didn't figure they'd need the shelter of either the coulees or the woods. Which speaks of ignorance, or arrogance. Still, anyone could be arrogant if they thought they were alone out here.

“And the attackers?” I ask.
“Sokaw—”
I fumble with the word.
“Sokawstu?”

Isi's eyes narrow.
“Sohkâtisiwak,”
he corrects me. “But how—” He answers his own question with a sigh. “Matisa.”

“Should . . .” I swallow. “Should we head south?”

He turns away from me. “You are not coming.”

“Isi,
please
. Daniel and I are as good as dead out here alone. We need to stay together.”

“You will slow me down.”

He's right. I'm not fast to begin with, and without that tincture, my foot is getting worse by the day. Won't be able to help carry Daniel like Kane could. Like he used to carry Daniel and Nico—

Nico
.

I'd forgotten all about him. That moment of the attack
floods in. That rider was carrying something under his arm, something alive. Something dropped from his horse. I pace across the flats toward the woods, scouring the ground. When I see the little bow Tom crafted for Nico, snapped in two, a wave of nausea washes me. I pick it up, my hands trembling, and turn back to Isi. “They took him,” I choke out. “Nico. Those people took him.”

He snaps his head toward me.

I hold the bow out, and despair washes over me, so deep that my knees get weak. As I sink to the ground, my head spins, and I drop the bow so I can reach for the earth to steady myself. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be different. I look up at Isi for—what? Reassurance? The very thought makes me want to laugh. I can feel it bubbling inside, mixing with a panic that is going to drown me. I gasp for air. I'm losing my senses . . .

Isi's eyes bore into mine a long moment. Then he throws his head back and shouts a word in his language at the sky—a word that sounds worse than any curse I know. He spins in an about-face, shrugging his pack off his back and throwing it to the ground so hard it must split the stitches of his wound. My thoughts stop dead as I watch him begin to pace before me.

I straighten up and stare at him. He's rattled, but something tells me it isn't just the news that Nico was taken. He's pacing, muttering as though he's having a talk with someone I can't see.

Finally he stops and glowers down at me. “Follow the seedpod,” he mutters, “take the injured bird.”

“What?”

“What can you remember?” he demands. “About when they took him?”

I shake my head to clear my fuzzy thoughts. I can picture the man on the horse, Nico beneath his arm. But why is he asking?

“They headed off that way.” I point to the woods. “Two riders. One was bleeding bad from Kane's knife.”

Isi's eyes scan the forest. “They will need to stop to close that wound,” he says.

I stare at him.

“We could catch up.” He gives me a hard look. “How is your foot?”

I shut my gaping maw. Moments ago he didn't care what happened to us; he was determined to go after Matisa. And now—

Doesn't matter. “It's good,” I lie.

He nods, his mouth set in a grim line. “We'll go after him.”

Relief and confusion wash me. And a flicker of hope springs up. We might find Kane in the forest, too. I throw a glance back to the tracks where Josiah lies. Kane could be around the next bend. Could be headed back this way right now—

“Em.” Isi's voice jars my thoughts. “I'm going after Nico. If you head into those coulees, you will be on your own.” I swallow and nod. He points to the sprawled bodies. “We need to take care of them quickly.”

My heart races as my insides recoil. Part of me wants to flee and never look back. I know Isi wouldn't dream of it, though; last fall he spent hours burying all the bones of his
people at the cabin we found, plus the skeletons from the Crossroads—who weren't even his people. I have a fleeting thought for the Cleansing Waters, where they cast my pa—

I shove it down deep.

“We will move them and cover them with whatever we can find,” he says.

I look at Daniel, his small form tossing rocks into the river, shining in the morning sun, and that ice lump in my chest moves into my throat.

By the time we've finished, three mounds rest under the first line of trees and the back of my neck is sticky with sweat. Isi sheared off spruce boughs with his knife, and we laid them on top, covering the exposed skin with double layers. We couldn't spare the bedrolls from our packs, or my cloak, so we couldn't wrap the bodies like we would've for the Cleansing Waters.