Owlknight

Seventeen

If the people of Red Fox themselves had not been so determined to take Shandi’s solution and follow through on it, Darian would have had a harder time with his conscience. As it was, it was difficult, very difficult, to persuade himself that the tribe would do as well without his help as with it.

But the survivors greeted the morning’s “revelation” by the three co-conspirators with unquestioning belief and even enthusiasm. It didn’t hurt that the eldest of the three widows confided to Darian with a look of wonder that she really had dreamed of the Red Fox spirit. Furthermore, she wonderingly said that in her dream the spirit had bestowed its approval of all that they had said and planned, and it had told her to tell the rest of the people to do as these special foreigners - the “Trusted Not-of-the-Tribe” - directed. Whether her own mind manufactured the dream, or it was a true vision didn’t really matter at the moment; what did make a difference was the reverence. She almost palpably projected a glow when she told the rest of her tribe of the manufactured vision. Because the spirits had approved of it, it became true for her and for her two co-widows. Their belief was contagious; it didn’t even require the mental nudging of the dyheli, which had been his private, emergency plan.

When one of the younger widows lamented her husband’s loss again, the older woman gained a sudden look of extreme serenity and replied, “The Fox says, ‘Do not let yesterday use up too much of today,’ child.” Two heartbeats of utter stillness followed, and then the older woman bent to pick up some of her belongings to prepare for the journey. Whether that had been clever acting or an actual contact with the Fox Spirit he did not know, but the effect was startling. One by one, the rest followed suit.

Kel, Hywel, and Wintersky went hunting that day as well, making certain that the village would have meat enough to carry it through not only the next fortnight, but the necessarily slow journey to Snow Fox. Steelmind, Shandi, Karles, and the dyheli “hunted” growing edibles and collected firewood.

Perhaps “collecting” was an understatement. They hitched the dyheli and Karles to downed trees, which were then dragged to the village; before long there was an enormous line of them in the clearing, waiting to be chopped up. It was an exquisite irony that so many of Darian’s youthful indiscretions had revolved around collecting firewood, and now here he was, in charge of firewood yet again.

Darian remained behind to help the survivors plan their journey, help Keisha, and chop the wood - with the help of the strongest of the girls, women, and any of the men fit to swing an ax or a mallet. Many of them were impressed by the high quality of the Tayledras axes, and marveled at Wintersky’s folding ax. And from the fierce and controlled anger with which the women dealt with their woody “adversaries,” Darian figured they were getting more than just stockpiled wood out of the exercise.

For him, the day passed quickly. He took a great deal of his own anger out on the wood; it felt good to imagine the faces of the Wolverine raiders and strike with his full strength behind the blows.

Everyone was so exhausted by the end of that day that they all went straight to bed relatively early. But there was none of the depression and gloom hanging over them that there had been; having a place to go and things to do to get ready for the migration had altered the entire mood of the tribe.

He had no illusions about the damaged psyches of the women, however. What they had endured would have to be dealt with eventually - but he trusted, having met and worked with him, that the Shaman of Snow Fox would be able to give them help.

Or if he can’t, their own tribal spirits certainly will.

So he went to sleep feeling, if not cheered, certainly with his conscience doing little more than an occasional mutter.

They left only when they all felt that they had done as much for the tribe as was needed; there was firewood piled high, racks and racks of meat drying, all manner of stores to tide these people through the difficult weeks ahead. Keisha had done as much as she could, given the brief amount of time she’d had to work; time and their own bodies would do the rest. The women had a purpose again, the men a reason to heal and get on their feet. The despair was gone, and there was even a glimpse of hope, now and again. These people were ready to stand on their own feet. If they weren’t to become dependent on their benefactors, it was time for Darian’s group to leave.

So they rode out on the morning of their fifth day with Red Fox, though not precisely as they had ridden in. If there were no cheers sending them off, there were grateful farewells, hands pressed silently but fervently, eyes with life in them again. If Darian did not feel good about leaving them to carry on without any more help, he didn’t feel bad about it either. As they took their bearings and departed from that path of browned and dying underbrush, heading once again for the pass between two mountains to the west and north, Darian felt the weight of another responsibility descend on him. Now they knew that Wolverine was out there, raiding, looting, and killing. They would have to be twice as vigilant as before.

He also held a secret from Keisha and Shandi, which made him feel a bit guilty. It wasn’t a major secret - but