young woman who reminded him so much of Yellow Fox and of the heart beating in her chest. A chill rippled through him. It was a terrible way to die.
He climbed on the pinto and slapped his legs. A new urgency goaded him. He tried to tell himself that she had been nothing more than bait to lure her man to his death. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care about the new life in her womb. He tried to tell himself all this and more.
The Outcast firmed his grip on the club.
Soon.
Very soon.
Skin Shredder licked his lips. The taste of raw heart always whetted his hunger for more. Ever since his first bite when he had seen but six winters, he liked to eat heart more than he liked to eat anything. It was the same with all his people. The heart to them was more than meat. It was strength. It was power. When they ate the heart of another, they acquired some of that person’s vital essence.
When one of their own died a violent death, they removed the heart and each of them took a bite. In doing so, they took into themselves part of the friend they were eating. It was the highest honor the Tunkua gave their own. Many looked forward to having their hearts eaten. They dreaded dying of sickness because then their hearts would stay untouched and they would go into the next world without the mark of honor.
Skin Shredder would have liked to take Bone Cracker back to the village so that all his people could take part. But it would be several sleeps, and by then the body would bloat and give off an unpleasant odor, and the heart would not taste as sweet.
Skin Shredder glanced back at the bay. The white woman had a look of distress on her face, which pleased him. The breed showed no discomfort. He could bear much, that one, and would, too, before the Tunkua were done with him. His mettle would be tested to its utmost.
The Tunkua had tortured their enemies for as long as there had been Tunkua. They didn’t do it out of a desire to inflict pain. They didn’t do it because they delighted in suffering. To them it was a test of courage, of manhood, of the warrior spirit. The more their enemy endured, the higher they regarded him. They ate his heart with the utmost reverence, for in the eating they took into themselves that which they most admired.
Skin Shredder couldn’t wait to eat the breed’s heart. He would cut it out himself. He had that right; the breed was his prisoner.
His shadow acquired a shadow of its own.
“I think we are being followed,” Star Dancer said.
“You think?”
“I am not certain.”
“What did you see?”
“What might be a man on a horse. But only for a moment. He is most careful not to be seen.”
“One of the Bear People come to save these two?” Skin Shredder had been expecting it. He was surprised there wasn’t more than one.
“I cannot say. He is too far off.”
“Do we stop and wait in hiding?” Splashes Blood asked.
Skin Shredder pondered and came to a decision. “If we push on, we can be over the pass and in our valley by the rising of the sun.”
Star Dancer said, “If I am right, the rider will follow us, perhaps all the way to our village. He will go to get other Bear People and they will come and try to wipe us out.”
“He will not reach the pass. You will find a spot where he cannot see you and wait for him, and when he comes, kill him with arrows.”
“It will be done.”
Chapter Seventeen
Zach King wished he knew what the Heart Eaters were talking about. One of them had gone back down the mountain, and now the others were having an animated palaver. Zach got the impression that another warrior wanted to go with the one who left, but their leader was apparently against the idea.
Soon they resumed the climb. Zach twisted his head. Lou had turned slightly and was staring at him. She seemed pale and her lips were pinched tight, as they did when she was in pain. “How bad is it?”
“I have a cramp,” Lou said. A bad one, above her hip. Her head hurt, too, no doubt from hanging upside down for so long. Her belly was sore, but not severely. So far she was holding up well, all things considered.
“I am thinking of trying to get away.”
“Tied as you are?” Lou shook her head. “You wouldn’t get twenty feet. It will make them mad.”
“I have to try,” Zach insisted. “I’ve been here before, elk hunting. The next slope isn’t open like this one. It’s covered with firs. I can lose myself, easy.”
“How?” Lou was skeptical. “Burrow into the ground like a gopher? Climb a tree? Be sensible.”
Zach fell silent. Even tied, he could hop, and if he picked the right spot, say a dense thicket or anywhere the brush was dense, he might elude them long enough to free his hands and feet. Then he could save Lou.
“Nothing more to say? You’ve giving up, just like that?” Lou’s eyes narrowed. “I know better. I know you, Stalking Coyote, and you’re still thinking of trying.”
One thing Zach never did—or did as rarely as he could help—was lie to her. “I might not have a better chance.”
“If you feel this strongly about it, we’ll try together,” Lou proposed. If she had to die, she preferred to die at his side.
“No.”
“Why not? Haven’t you heard?” Lou grinned. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Oh really? So it’s all right for you to risk your life but not all right for me to risk mine?”
“You’re risking two lives now. Or have you forgotten?”
“It’s all I think of,” Lou quietly admitted. Being told that women could have babies—being told that
The bay climbed higher, its reins in the hand of a stocky Heart Eater. Zach watched the warrior closely, noting how often he glanced back, which wasn’t often at all. His bid to escape looked promising.
Lou was wrestling with herself. Zach was right. She shouldn’t take chances. If he could get away she had no doubt he would rescue her.
Zach craned his neck, searching for the firs. They shouldn’t be far off. He would drop from the bay and trust in Providence.
Lou saw him tense. “Please, Zach.”
“Don’t you dare beg me.” It was the one thing Zach had no defense against. He couldn’t refuse her anything when she begged.
“I just want you to be careful. For my sake and the sake of our child.”
“Twice the reasons to stay alive,” Zach joked, and regretted it when her features clouded.
Lou indulged in a rare cuss word. “You damn well better. I don’t want to raise our child alone. If he takes after his father, he’ll be a hellion.”
Zach hadn’t thought of that. If his son took after him—good Lord, the trouble he’d given his parents. He put it from his mind for the time being. Shadowed ranks of firs rose above, the trees so high and so close, they were in perpetual gloom.
Fear gnawed at Lou. Her head was telling her that Zach must try, but her heart was fit to burst with worry.
