Children of the Plains

Chapter 7

Nianki ran across the moonlit plain, knees rising high, arms pumping in time with her legs. The spring night was warm, and the white moon played hide-and-seek with high clouds made pink by Lutar, the low-hanging red moon. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes. A few paces ahead, a yearling buck darted, its bold white tail flicking with fright. She’d flushed the deer by accident as she crossed the high plain by night. It sprang up so close in front of her that she couldn’t ignore the opportunity.

Had she owned a full-length spear, she could have brought the yearling down by now, but Pakito’s cast-off weapon was good only for short throws. After eluding the elves, she had doubled back to the beach and found the truncated spear unclaimed on the sand.

Snorting, the deer twisted sharply to the right. Nianki yelled at the animal. Her blood was up, and she meant to have this young buck. She stretched her long legs and gained a step on her prey. The deer was too young to know it could outrun her. It knew pursuit only by panthers or wolves, which it could evade but not outrun. It kept changing direction, dodging from side to side, in an attempt to escape, but she wasn’t fooled. She closed to within a pace of the buck. Each step made her legs burn, each breath now felt like a flint knife in her ribs. The yearling was panting, too, its long tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.

Nianki raised the spear to her shoulder. The next time the buck bore right -

He did, making a lightning turn right across her line of sight. Nianki hurled the short spear. It grazed down the deer’s ribs, drawing blood. The head buried itself in the ground, and the shaft tangled the yearling’s feet. It tumbled to the ground in a welter of flailing legs and wide, rolling eyes.

With a ferocious cry of triumph, she leaped upon the fallen animal. It struggled to rise, but she caught it around the neck with both arms. Bleating with terror, the young buck tried to roll her off, but she held on, tightening her grip on the animal’s throat. Nianki got a knee in the deer’s side and wrenched backward with all her might. Bones in its neck snapped, and the deer ceased struggling.

She fell back on the matted grass and gasped for air. The collar the elves had put on her chafed. Worse, though her wounds had healed cleanly, the scars still ached when she exerted herself.

Recovered, Nianki found her spear and used the flint head to butcher her kill. She gutted the carcass, wiped it out with dry grass, and then slung the yearling across her shoulders. It was essential to keep moving. The smell of blood would draw scavengers from far and wide, and she didn’t want to have to fight them off.

She made for an outcropping of boulders near the horizon. Bowed under the weight of the carcass, Nianki kept her head down until she was quite close to the boulders. When she finally looked up, she was startled to see two human figures in the shadow of the rocks. She tossed aside the deer and presented her spearpoint.

“Who’s there?” she demanded.

“Peace to you, spirit of the night! We mean no harm!”

“Show yourselves!”

Two plainsmen, young enough to be beardless, emerged from the darkness and stood open-handed before Nianki. They were naked but for scrap-hide kilts. Their faces were gaunt with hunger, and their ribs stood out like reeds, even in the dimness of the soft moonlight.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Kenase,” answered the taller boy, “son of Ebon and Filar, and this is Neko.”

“Your brother?”

“No, I am the son of Sensi and Myera,” said Neko.

“How come you to be here?”

The boys exchanged looks. “We escaped from the Good People.”

Nianki tapped her spear against the hard collar. “I escaped from them as well. When did you break free?”

“We left their camp near sundown,” said Neko haltingly.

“That way.” He pointed east. “The Good People are powerful, hut I didn’t think they could capture a spirit!”

Nianki frowned. “What are you talking about? Who’s a spirit?”

“You!”

She laughed. “The moons have addled your heads! I’m no more a spirit than you.”

Kenase pointed at the deer. “We saw you. You ran down a deer and slew it with your own hands! Who but a spirit of the night could do that?”

“A hungry woman, that’s who,” Nianki replied. She hoisted the carcass back on her shoulders. “How long has it been since you two ate?”

Neko licked his lips. “Three days, Great Sp — Uh, what shall we call you?”

“Nianki, daughter of Oto and Kinar.”

“Oto the panther killer?” said Kenase.

Nianki nodded.

“I know tales of his prowess as a hunter. You’re his daughter? That explains much!”

Nianki climbed atop the lower boulder and set to work skinning the buck. She nipped off morsels for the two young men. Kenase, she reckoned, was about her age, maybe a season older. Neko was a year or two behind her. They ate greedily, and Nianki had to admonish them to chew long and swallow little. Fresh meat was hard on a starved stomach.

Kenase explained he had been visiting Neko’s family to meet Neko’s younger sister, Nefra. Their parents were considering Nefra taking Kenase as her mate. While with Neko’s family, they were captured by a band of the Good People, eight on foot and four riding those strong, four-legged animals, which he called “horses.”

“The Good People breed them to serve as beasts of burden,” Kenase explained.

“Go on,” said Nianki, chewing slowly.

“There were six of us,” Neko said, “and they drove us to a hilltop near the boundary of the eastern forest. The Good People have made a sort of hedge of tree trunks at the top of the hill, so close together no one could pass between them. There were many, many plainsfolk there, inside the hedge.”

“How many?”

Kenase counted on his fingers, then on Neko’s as well. “More than our hands can count.”

“So how did you get away?”

“Some of the women made a noise and drew the eyes of the Good People to them. The men boosted me and Neko over the tree trunks, and we ran away. We meant to find my family, return, and free the rest.” Kenase’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. “In the time we’ve been running from the Good People, we’ve seen no plainsmen at all, until we saw you.”

Nianki sighed. She thought herself favored by the spirits to have gotten away from the elves. The last thing she wanted to do was steal into a camp full of them, but her heart ached to hear this. She couldn’t bear the thought of so many plainsmen being held captive.

“How many elves — Good People — were at this camp?” she asked finally.

More counting on fingers. “We saw twelve in all,” said Kenase.

“If they have the chance, will your kinsmen fight for their freedom?”

“Yes, I am sure of it!”

“Good.” Nianki stood on the boulder and wiped her hands on her buckskin shirt. “I’ll help you.”

Neko and Kenase jumped up, ready to return, but Nianki ignored them and dragged the rest of her kill to the highest point in the outcropping. As the boys watched, she climbed down a few steps and stretched out on the rock.

“Aren’t we going right away?” asked Neko.

“Not now. It would be light by the time we reached the camp. Better to go tomorrow afternoon and arrive after the sun has set.”

“But they hunger and thirst!” Kenase protested.

“They’re plainsmen,” Nianki replied. “Hunger and thirst are familiar companions. They’ll endure another day. If you want my help, you’ll have to do as I say, and I say we can best help them after dark.”

She put an arm across her forehead, covering her eyes. Oto used to do that when he was through talking, and it had the same effect on Neko and Kenase it always had on Nianki, Amero, and Kinar. They fell silent.

Nianki was glad they’d seen her run down the yearling buck. It was an unusual kill, and it awed them enough to accept her counsel.

“Great Spirit of the Night,” they had called her. The longer Nianki lived, the less she believed in spirits. The elves were supposed to have mystical powers, and she’d seen little of it. Kenase and Neko took her for a spirit, yet she was flesh and blood. Were all the stories she’d heard of ghosts and spirits just lies or. dreams? The hard world Nianki was coming to know seemed to have little room for spirits.

She awoke to find bright sunlight streaming on her face, and she heard low voices conversing close by. Nianki sat up abruptly. The two boys were sitting on the ground with their backs against the boulder, eating and talking. A pile of wild celery lay between them. From the stems and strings heaped alongside, it looked like Kenase and Neko had already eaten about half of what they’d gathered.

Nianki checked her deer. It had not been touched, she noted with satisfaction. One of the oldest tenets of the hunters’ code was a kill belonged to whomever brought it down. The boys’ respect of her kill was a positive sign.

She scrambled down the rock. Kenase stood up.

“Good morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough.”

Neko also rose, though more slowly than his companion. A stalk of celery stuck out of his mouth.

“Hungry?” he mumbled, offering her the unchewed end.

“I need water,” Nianki replied. “Is there any?”

Kenase offered to lead her to a nearby spring, but she declined. He gave her directions, and she went to the water hole alone.

After she drank her fill, Nianki splashed the tepid water on her face. She thought about Pa’alu and his hollow gourd for carrying water. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange idea. Never knowing where the next water hole might be, carrying your own supply on a long trek made a lot of sense. Next time she came across a suitable gourd vine, she would save one.

While trudging up the hill, Nianki decided to test the young men’s mettle. Instead of walking straight back to the boulder, she circled around the low side of the hill and came up on the far side, with the rock between her and the boys. She crept up on the warm stone and lay flat, pushing herself along with just her fingers and toes.

“… until she gets back,” Neko was saying.

“What do you think of Karada?” asked Kenase.

“Strange,” said Neko, “and dangerous.”

“Karada” in the plainsmen’s tongue meant “Scarred One.” Nianki had no doubt whom they were talking about.

“Do you think she can get my family out?” Neko continued.

“She’s strong and fleet, and no matter what she says, I think the spirits are strong in her. You saw how she brought down the deer with her hands?”

“Uh-huh.” Neko picked celery string out of his teeth. “She moves like a panther. If anyone can free my family, she’s the one.”

Kenase looked down the hill toward the spring. “She’s taking a long time.”

“Women are like that.”

Nianki quietly withdrew. She considered jumping down on them from her hiding place, but that seemed childish. Besides, it was useful to know what other people thought, especially if they didn’t realize you knew.

She ran back around to the spring and ascended the hill in plain view. Again Kenase stood when Nianki approached, and again Neko remained where he was, slouching against the boulder.

“We’ve enough food for the day, so there’s no need to tire ourselves hunting,” Nianki said. “I say we stay here and rest a while, so we’ll be strong tonight.” The boys readily agreed.

They slumped in the shade of the boulder. Kenase offered Nianki the wild celery they’d gathered. She munched a few stalks, all the while evaluating her new comrades. Kenase was earnest and talkative. He was plainly impressed with Nianki and kept trying to do things for her, to her secret amusement. Neko was different. He was quiet and observant — in fact, he watched Nianki as intently as she watched him. His interest wasn’t as openly friendly as Kenase’s, and he seemed more detached.

She told them without elaboration about the loss of her family, and how she’d received the scars she bore. More detailed was her recounting of her meeting with Balif and his band of elves near the coast. Both youths were puzzled by Balif’s declaration that the elves would take all the land from the Khar River east to their forest home.

“Take it? Take it where?” Kenase asked.

“The elves mean to live here and drive all the plainsfolk out,” Nianki explained.

“They can’t do that,” Neko replied. “Where will we go? West of the river is the land of the ox-herders. The hunting is bad there. There’s no room for us!”

“All the more reason to free your family, and any other humans we find. The people of the plain must work together, like the elves do, to resist this invasion.”

Nianki curled up on her side, pillowing her head with one arm. “Rest now,” she said. “When night falls, we go.”

When twilight faded to the black of night, Nianki and the boys made ready. No moons were up yet. It would well past midnight before Lutar rose. By then, Nianki hoped they would be on their way to freedom.

Neko led the way. He set an easy, loping pace that Nianki had no trouble matching. Pausing only to take his bearings from the stars, Neko bore due east for a long time. To the north, foothills stood out against the glittering sky. Ahead, the fringes of the vast eastern forest loomed.

Halfway to midnight, Neko stopped and fell to one knee. Nianki came up on his left, while Kenase knelt on his right.

“Between those two hills,” Neko whispered. A faint glow lit up the hollow between the indicated hills.

“What’s that light?” Nianki wondered aloud.

“Fire,” said Kenase. “The Good People command flame.”

She didn’t like that. Fire was not something a sensible hunter fooled with. It did not care whose hide it burned, and its illumination would make their task that much harder.

“Follow me. No sound.” Nianki moved forward at a slow, crouching walk.

The trail wound between two round-topped hills into a steep ravine. Atop the ridge to the right was a row of tree trunks, just like the boys had described. They were so close together not even a rabbit could have passed between them. Somewhere inside this line of tree trunks a bonfire blazed. By its glow Nianki saw an elf on horseback, riding slowly around the outside of the camp.

With gestures, she conveyed she wanted to circle the camp and view it from all sides. Kenase took her hand and led her off to his left, away from the horse and rider. She was a bit surprised at his touch.

The terrain along the foot of the ridge was all briars and knifegrass. Nianki took the lead, pushing aside the thorny growth with her spear. Every few paces they stopped to study the camp. So far they’d spotted no easy way in.

“There’s a gap on the other side,” Neko whispered, “but it’s closely guarded.”

They climbed the steep slope toward the dark end of the camp. Nianki used her spear as a handhold — she drove it into the ground, used it to haul herself up, yanked it out, repeated the process. She held out a hand to Kenase, who in turn pulled Neko along. The ridge had steep sides, but it wasn’t that high, and before long all three were lying on their bellies, staring at the blank wall of logs.

“A rider circles the camp,” Kenase said. “Elves on the inside keep people away from the trunks.”

“And you escaped from here?” Nianki said. “How did you manage? Did they pursue you?”

“It was dark. I guess they couldn’t see us.”

She looked to Neko for confirmation, but he was too busy gazing at the wall. She nudged him, and they continued their circuit.

The firelight grew stronger, and it quickly became apparent the elves had a large fire going in front of the opening to the camp. Four of them, armed with spears, stood between the fire and the gap in the logs. Nianki tried to see beyond them into the camp, but the glare of the fire was too bright.

“What now?” Kenase hissed.

“Back,” she muttered. “Back to the dark. We’ll get in the way you got out — climb over the trees.”

“But the rider — ”

“We’ll wait till he passes. Come on!”

The enclosure was roughly oval shaped, with the bonfire at the center of one of the long sides. Nianki got as far from the firelight as she could. She crept out of the bushes and listened. The clop-clop of the approaching horse’s hooves caused her to flatten herself into a chink in the trunks. The horse walked by, its bored rider’s head bobbing with every step his mount made. When he was well past, she waved for Kenase and Neko to join her.

“This is not good!” Neko said with surprising fervor.

“Have you got a better idea?” Nianki replied. He looked at his toes. “All right, lift me up!”

They boys braced themselves against the logs and Nianki climbed their backs. The tree trunks were about twice her height, so with one foot on each boy’s shoulder, she was able to see over them.

The dark end of the camp was dotted with sleeping people lying in family groups of five and six. She guessed there were thirty or forty people. At the other end of the enclosure the elves made their camp. They had hides stretched over frames of tree branches to keep the rain and sun off. She counted eight to ten sleeping elves. A pair of horses was tethered to the wall.

Nianki swung first one leg then the other over the tops of the tree trunks. The ground was a good three paces distant, but she slid off her perch and landed lightly on her fingers and toes. She crept up to the nearest sleeper — a woman — and clamped a hand over her mouth. The woman opened wide dark eyes and gave a cry muffled by Nianki’s hand.

“Quiet!” Nianki said. “I’m here to help you!”

The woman nodded her head, showing her understanding, and Nianki removed her hand. She sat up, and Nianki saw she wore a hard collar, identical to the one that encircled Nianki’s throat. A cord ran through the collar’s ring to the collar of the next sleeper, and the next, eventually ending at a large stake pounded in the ground in the center of the camp.

In her travels since leaving the coast, Nianki had availed herself of a piece of sharp obsidian as a cutting tool. It was brittle stone, but easy to knap to a keen edge. She flicked the obsidian blade over the cord, cutting it cleanly.

“Wake the rest, carefully,” she whispered. “Pull the cord through and you’ll be loose. I’ll help the others.” The woman nodded vigorously, turning to wake her companion.

Nianki crept to the next group of sleepers. Before she could awaken anyone else, a cry went up from the elves at the fire. At first Nianki thought they were just carrying on among themselves, but then she saw the sleeping elves were rising and taking up their weapons.

Without bothering to wake the boy she’d approached, she cut the cord on his collar. Two elves mounted their horses and the rest ran to the opening in the wall. To her consternation, Nianki saw they had Kenase and Neko.

“Listen, human!” shouted one of the elves on horseback. “You can’t get out. We have your friends! Stand up and let yourself be seen!”

Sleeping plainsfolk stirred all around her. Some got to their feet, rubbing their eyes. Nianki joined in, mixing with them while gradually working her way toward the way out.

“Can you see her?” called a man’s voice in the plainsmen’s language.

“Not yet,” replied the mounted elf. “ Cha! They all look alike to me!”

“This one has a scarred face and long brown hair.”

Who was speaking? Most of the captives were on their feet now, making it hard for Nianki to see ahead. She bumped into a burly hunter with fierce black brows and curly beard. She pressed the obsidian knife into his hand.

“Free as many as you can,” she said. “If we all move as one, they can’t stop us.”

“Aye,” he said, black eyes shining. “Stampede. Good plan!”

She worked her way to the front of the crowd and found herself looking up at a familiar face. The mounted elf was Tamanithas, the elf she’d knocked down and left unconscious.

His eyes widened in shocked recognition as his gaze fell upon her. “You!” he spat in passable human-speech.

“I thought you would’ve gone home by now,” she said calmly. “Learned to talk like a real person, have you?”

“I knew your barbarous tongue when last we met,” he sneered. “I just hate to soil my mouth by speaking it!” He ordered the elves on foot to take her.

A concerted shout went up from the humans at Nianki’s back. As fast as they could, they whipped the confining cord from the rings around their necks. The man with the curly black beard rushed to Nianki’s side and returned the obsidian knife to her.

The sight of their prisoners freeing themselves paralyzed the elves for a moment. They were only twelve against forty. The elves closed ranks and presented a hedge of spears to the angry mob. Tamanithas paraded his horse up and down behind the line of guards.

“Get back to your places!” he shouted. “Get back and you will not be harmed!”

“It’s you who should flee,” Nianki shouted back. “This is not your land! Return to your forest, and we won’t kill you!”

Tamanithas drew his long-bladed weapon and started to ride over his own spear carriers, but he was restrained by two comrades on horseback. They argued loudly in their own language while the unruly mob of plainsfolk drew closer and closer, forcing the elves into the narrow end of the oval camp. Hands found stones in the dirt, and lengths of wood cut by the elves to feed their fires made handy clubs.

A shower of stones fell on the mounted elves. The pair restraining Tamanithas went down, and one of the horses bolted from the scene. One stout rock struck Tamanithas in the shoulder. He shrugged it off and urged his animal forward. The spear carriers parted ranks to avoid being trampled. He rode straight at Nianki, who awaited his charge calmly.

She was unarmed, save for her knife. Her spear she’d left with Kenase. Tamanithas rode with his weapon held high. Just before the horse would have collided with Nianki, she leaped to the side, throwing her right arm and right leg around the horse’s neck. The beast reared and bucked. She held on tightly and drove the heel of her foot into Tamanithas’s chest. His hands flew up, and he slid off the horse.

A swarm of furious men and women descended on the fallen elf. He was kicked and pummeled and dragged to his feet. By the time Nianki managed to get off the spinning, bucking horse, the rest of the elves had withdrawn to the opening, leaving Tamanithas in the hands of the humans.

Sudden quiet fell over the scene. Nianki strode through the crowd and saw the elves had reorganized at the bonfire. On one side, the humans held Tamanithas, bruised and bloody. On the other side, the elves had Neko, kneeling, with a spear to his back. Standing with the elves, unguarded, was Kenase.

“So, you’re with them,” Nianki said, the truth dawning on her.

“I serve the Good People,” Kenase replied. “Let Lord Tamanithas go, and we’ll serve them together, you and I.”

She spat in the dirt. “I serve no one.”

“They’ll kill Neko.”

She stepped out further, planting her hands on her hips. “Listen to me! Tell your people what I say, Tamanithas.” He sullenly agreed. “We will release Tamanithas if you give up Neko and leave this country. If you harm Neko, we’ll kill the elf, hunt you all down, and kill you, every one.” She glanced back at Tamanithas. “Tell them.”

He translated her threat. The elves drew closer together. There was some conferring among those on horseback. At last, one gave a command, and Neko was prodded to his feet. He limped across the open ground to stand by Nianki.

“Let him go,” she said to the people holding Tamanithas. There was some growling from the crowd, but they relinquished their hostage. With as much dignity as his battered appearance could support, Tamanithas rejoined his people.

“Depart now,” Nianki said. “You’ll be followed until you leave the plain. If you try to come back, everyone in your band will be slain.”

Tamanithas’s horse was sent to the waiting elves. The former hostage mounted and rode out in front of the wary spear carriers.

“This is not over,” he vowed. “This land will belong to my lord Silvanos.”

“Land belongs to the spirits, not to those who live on it,” said Nianki, “but we’ll not be driven from our hunting grounds. The plainsmen will know of your deeds, and how we turned you back. If you return, we’ll be waiting for you.”

The humans raised a cheer. Stung by her declaration, the elves formed ranks and started marching away. Then only the mounted elves were left with Kenase standing between them. He looked at Nianki fearfully and reached up to clasp the mane of Tamanithas’s horse.

“Take me with you, great one!” Kenase said. “I can still serve you!”

“Begone, wretch. You would lick the hand of whoever feeds you.” Tamanithas pulled his animal free. With a single cry, he kicked his horse to a gallop. The other riders were close behind him.

Kenase was quickly ringed by vengeful hunters.

“You led my family to the Good People!” Curly Beard cried, punching Kenase on the jaw with his fist. Others echoed his accusation. Kenase was hauled to his feet only to be beaten down again. Nianki watched silently until Neko appeared at her side. He handed her the short-shafted spear.

“Thank you,” she said. The ring of betrayed hunters parted for her. Her face was as hard as her voice when she spoke to Kenase. “I fed you. I gave you meat. You lied to me.”

“I did it for all of us!” he exclaimed. “The Good People are wise and great! They can bring many wonders to us, wonders of comfort and ease!”

“Like this?” Nianki said, yanking at the cold collar at her throat. “Wonders like starvation and slavery?”

“The collars come off!” Kenase edged away from Nianki, toward the interior of the camp. “There is a tool that makes them come off.”

The plainsfolk allowed him to ransack the bedding left behind by the elves. He found a large bright ring made of the same hard, smooth substance as the collars. “Bronze,” Kenase called it. It was “metal,” he said.

A curious worked rod of metal hung on the ring. Kenase pushed one end of the rod in the hole in Nianki’s collar and twisted. The collar popped open and fell to the ground. With a roar, the crowd surged over Kenase and the rod was torn from his grasp. The camp resounded with cheers as collar after collar was removed.

Curly Beard, who said his name was Targun, asked Nianki what should be done with Kenase, who was cowering as he awaited his fate.

“Why ask me?” she replied, still rubbing her neck. Her skin was peeling from days of chafing.

“He betrayed us,” Targun said, “but you saved us. Decide his fate. It will be done as you say.”

Heavy silence fell over the camp, broken only by the crackle of the dying bonfire. Nianki cast a cold eye over the boy. He was crying now. His weakness disgusted her.

“Turn him out,” she said at last. “Let him fend for himself. Tell the story far and wide so that no plainsman lends him food or comfort. If he lacks for anything, let him seek his masters in the forest.”

Targun and the others man-handled Kenase to the path taken by the elves. Head bowed, the whimpering boy shuffled away, terrified of exile but relieved to be alive.

Someone pushed Nianki aside and jerked the spear from her hand. He ran forward a few steps and cast the short spear at the retreating Kenase. It struck him in the small of the back. He uttered a cry and fell facedown in the dirt.

The spear-thrower faced Nianki. It was Neko.

“Why?” Nianki demanded.

“Kenase led the Good People to my family,” said the boy. “They killed my brother because he wouldn’t submit to capture.”

Nianki removed the spear and rolled the dead boy over. She closed his eyes and wiped the spear head on the grass.

“It is done,” Targun said solemnly. “Let no more blood be shed.”

The plainsmen drifted away, eager to put distance between themselves and the elf camp. Most of the families were gone by the time the red moon appeared over the horizon. A few remained, Targun’s among them.

Nianki poked among the elves’ abandoned gear. She found a bronze dagger in a wooden chest and slipped it in her waistband. While she was rummaging, she noticed the remaining men, women, and children were watching her.

“I’ll not take everything,” she assured them. “Get what you want.”

“No,” said Targun. “We’re waiting for you.” She stared at him blankly. “We want to follow you.”

“I don’t seek a mate,” she said flatly.

“That’s not what I mean.” Targun gestured, and a short, smiling woman of ample proportions led four children to stand at his side. He obviously had no need of a mate. He said, “You bested the Good People and saved us all. There is a power in your presence, like the nearness of a panther. The spirits are in you, and we want to follow you.”

“Let the spirits who protect you protect us as well,” added Targun’s mate.

Bewildered, Nianki was about to tell them they were all crazy, when she spotted Neko sitting on a stump near the fire. He looked numb, vacant. Though she’d never killed a man, she had seen that dazed reaction in others.

“What about you, Neko?” she called.

Slowly he looked up at her. “I’ve no blood kin left. I follow you.”

Many pairs of eyes stared hopefully at her. As she looked around at the expectant faces and considered what was being asked of her, Nianki was reminded how they had defeated the better-armed, supposedly more powerful elves. A band of hunters who were not blood kin — such a band had not existed on the plains before. Perhaps there was something to be said for the safety and strength of numbers. If elves could do it, so could humans.

Nianki scrubbed a hand through her hair and sighed gustily. “I’m unmated, yet I’ve acquired a family,” she muttered, then added more loudly, “All right, you can follow me.”

“Where should we go?” asked Pirith, Targun’s mate.

Nianki frowned at her, though it was a frown of thought rather than of displeasure. Pirith posed a very good question. Where should they go? East lay the domain of the elves, and the land to the south was also infested with the invaders. The western plain was where the killer pack had wiped out her family.

“North,” Nianki said firmly. “Good hunting up north, this time of year.”

They stripped the camp of everything useful, then waited for Nianki to lead them away.

Targun asked, “What is your name?”

Before Nianki could answer, Neko spoke.

“Karada,” he said. She looked at him and smiled.

“That’s right,” she said. “Call me Karada.”