Bee isn’t beside her, which is a first, and it all feels so much more real without her irreverent banter and confidence boosting aura of pure capability. Her confidence is contagious and without it, Willa feels far less secure about their chances of success. She can’t show that though. She can’t let her own feelings infect the others, so she stands tall and scans the trees to either side, nodding at each of the bow wielders hidden there.
The clearing ahead is a big one, which is probably why the men chose it for their next base camp. There’s less work to make it comfortable and secure. Like everything else, it’s surrounded by trees except for a few gaps where the rock of the mountain rises or falls. The face of the slope rises far above on one side.
All in all, it’s a great place for a comfortable camp and an ideal location to spring a trap and attack.
The first of the men emerges from the trees at the far end with a yell. Willa can’t truly hear it as more than an echoey murmur, but she thinks the word was, “Finally!” The man is loaded down with an oversized pack. In one hand, he carries a small cooler. In the other, some sort of bag. A rifle dangles from his shoulder by a strap. He is in no way ready for battle and it lifts Willa’s spirit.
She holds up a fist and the two people who can see her repeat the motion. It will travel along their line to every man and woman positioned in the trees. They have to hold back until most or all of the men enter the field.
It takes long minutes before the next man emerges, but he is quickly followed by a long straggling line. This must be the main group. Almost all of them are loaded down with belongings ranging from a large camp stove bumping along on a cart with oversized wheels to big coolers hefted between two men. The men have been ranging these mountains for a long time and their belongings have multiplied. The tribe would probably look no different if they had to move on foot.
Willa counts as they come. Twenty-nine men enter the clearing, which is four fewer than Claire reported. It’s possible those men are lagging behind, but it’s also possible they’ve been tasked with something else. Those four are wild cards, but they are only four in number.
The numbers are lopsided, no matter which way she cuts it. Including Willa, there are fourteen tribe members in the trees. Two more are hidden in the trees on the other side of the clearing. Their job is to cover the main escape route. Without the element of surprise, this would be a losing proposition, particularly since most of the tribe is equipped with bows. Six have rifles as well, but those are not to come into play until the men begin shooting. They must keep the noise to a minimum for as long as possible.
There are more tribe members, of course, but the camp must remain defended. The distance is too great for a quick return, and they have no assurances that the tribe is safe from attack. With so many children, babies, and new mothers, they cannot risk being undefended. They also have most of the guns at camp.
They seem to have so many people when it comes time to figuring out food, but so few when it comes to remaining safe. So far, they’ve taken the position that everyone should know how to use a bow, but not insisted everyone be ready for battle. Those who don’t want to fight will need to be talked to about this problem.
That’s for later. Now, they just need to survive.
The first man who came from the trees has made it to the clearing, dropped his gear, and started looking at all the stakes hammered into the ground. Willa has already seen them. Each is labeled with a name or some other form of identification. The man must see what he’s looking for, because he runs for his gear and moves it closer to one of the stakes.
The main body is hurrying now, eager to end their arduous hike, no doubt. Willa’s heart starts pounding harder. The time is coming, but she can’t let her nerves force her to call the attack too early. Their bows can reach the main clearing, but the meandering trail from the trees is too far for truly accurate shots. She also can’t wait too long.
Willa can feel eyes on her. Everyone is anxious. Just as she’s about to shift her hand to the attack signal, a few of the men in the clearing respond to a call from someone along the path. They take off running to aid those men, who are dragging along game carts loaded with stacks of gear instead of game.
It’s a matter of moments for the men to reach the others and begin trudging back, but if feels like an epoch. Nervous sweat trickles from Willa’s hair down the back of her neck. That final group reaches the clearing and Willa knows this is the time. This is the pause between shedding their loads and their minds focusing on their surroundings. This is the golden moment.
Shifting her upraised fist into a blade and flashing it forward is immediately followed by the two next to her doing the same. She begins the count. By the time she reaches ten, the signal should have traveled down the line. She will shoot the first arrow.
Taking careful aim at the man who arrived at the clearing first, Willa allows her arrow’s point to track him as he strolls along the clearing, looking at markers. At ten,
