He retied his rawhide lacings around the trunk and settled down to wait out his foes. As the sun mounted higher in the sky, he noted with grim satisfaction the yevi were panting in the heat. He resolved to die in the treetop if need be, but he would not fall. He could not allow the pack to claim his entire family. Better that his dry flesh should feed the crows.
At sunset, half the yevi pack rose and departed silently into the bush. Their sudden movement, after so many hours of stillness, roused Amero from his lethargy. His heart leaped at the sight of the departing beasts, but when he recognized only half the pack was leaving, he knew they were simply going for food and water. The remaining yevi stayed behind to keep their eyes on their treebound prey.
He was finished. If they could go for sustenance and he couldn’t, Amero was doomed. He couldn’t outlast them. As night arrived, Amero sank into despair. He was so weak from hunger and thirst. Even signs of approaching storm clouds didn’t bolster his failing spirits. The yevi would never give up. Their single-minded devotion to his destruction went far beyond the normal needs of predators. A herd of elk, passing by in mid-afternoon, garnered no special attention from the pack. Why did they so earnestly seek his life?
Clouds boiled in from the east. Blue-white flashes of lightning illuminated the thunderheads from within, sometimes breaking into the open and crashing to earth. The sound of thunder rolled across the wide savanna, and the elm grove tossed in the wind. The first raindrops to fall were fat, heavy, and startlingly cold. Amero licked his lips gratefully each time he caught one.
The yevi remained in their vigilant positions, never flinching at the thunder or lightning, never seeking shelter. They reminded Amero of the stone fetishes he’d seen in the Kharland, carved by men of the southern plains to appease the spirits of the hunt. Wind and rain came in gusts, enough to appease the worst of Amero’s thirst, but still the yevi waited.
A close flash of lightning lit up the entire sky. By the dazzling light Amero glimpsed an extraordinary sight — a vast dark shape high in the sky, silhouetted against the purple clouds. It was long and sinuous, with a pair of immense, narrow wings flapping slowly. It was certainly the biggest bird Amero had ever seen, but before another blast of lightning could bring him a clearer glimpse, the thing nosed up into the clouds and was gone.
“Stormbird,” he marveled aloud. Oto had spoken of these. Like the star-pattern in the sky for which they were named, stormbirds were enormous, rare creatures.
“They fly in the edge of every storm, carrying lightning in their claws and thunder in every stroke of their wings,” Oto had said. “They never touch earth and can swallow an entire flock of geese as one meal.”
Amero could hardly believe he was seeing a stormbird with his own eyes.
Just then, fiery fingers of lightning struck the ground less than a hundred paces away. The tree trembled, and bits of scorched wood and dirt pelted him. He ducked his head to avoid the debris and saw the yevi were on their feet, milling around and whining. Amero cinched the lacings tighter and wished for another, closer strike. Perhaps that would send them away for good.
Thunder boomed in the grove, and still the yevi didn’t leave. They did break their circle around Amero’s perch, collecting in a tight knot on one side of the tree. Amero devoutly wished they would skulk into the bush, driven away by the crackling lightning and booming thunder. Instead, they remained, huddled together and evidently quaking with fear. Common predators would have abandoned Amero to his fate. Why did the yevi remain?
The storm blew itself out at last, rolling westward across the plain toward the great forest. Before long Amero saw stars through rents in the clouds, and the incessant flashes of lightning galloped away. The night was left dark once again.
Refreshed by the rain, Amero resolved to escape the yevi on the morrow. He slept a second night in the treetop. One way or another, it would be his last night there.
Dawn arrived, fresh and bright. The short, sharp rain had brought green shoots out of the ground overnight, and the air was filled with buzzing insects. The abundant bugs attracted swarms of birds, so the morning was astir with noisy, colorful life. Amero stretched his aching arms and legs and wondered if his neck was developing a permanent bend.
Ten members of the yevi pack were still on watch beneath Amero’s tree. Drying mud matted their fur, and they looked generally bedraggled, but their menace was unchanged. Amero felt the cold clutch of helplessness again as he tried and failed to come up with a plan to escape.
Four more yevi appeared from the bush, looking quite clean and rested. Without a sound the pack spread out in a circle around Amero’s perch. Strangely, the beasts aligned themselves facing outward, not inward, as though they were defending the tree instead of besieging it.
“Get out of here!” Amero shouted in exasperation. “Go! Go now!”
There was no answer from the yevi. Could he have imagined hearing their voices the other day?
A flock of birds whirled in and filled the branches of Amero’s elm. There must have been a hundred tiny black-and-tan birds, all chirping at once, making a tremendous din. They were highly agitated — some hopping back and forth from one limb to another, fluffing their wings, some even daring to land on Amero’s head or shoulders. The shrill peeping reached a crescendo, then in a body the noisy flock took to the air. They circled the grove once and flew away.
Curiously, the yevi were backing up, slowly contracting their circle. A few on the west side broke ranks and trotted around to the east side, filling the gaps between the beasts already there. Whatever was coming, whatever had startled the birds and worried the yevi pack, was coming from the east. From the mountains.
Straining to see in that direction, Amero was surprised to feel a sudden chill run down his back. He was even more astonished to look up and see a man come striding toward the grove. He was too far away for Amero to make out his face clearly, but the boy could tell by the stranger’s shock of red-gold hair that he wasn’t Oto. Amero had never seen anyone with hair that color before.
“Stop!” he shouted. His voice was a weak croak after his prolonged ordeal. “Beware! The pack — the yevi!”
The animals were rooted to the spot. On came the stranger through the widely spaced trees. He carried no spear nor club Amero could see. The boy was horrified. The yevi would tear the man to pieces.
“Go back! Danger!” Amero cried.
At last the man seemed to hear him. He halted twenty paces away and looked up at him. Though the sun was bright and the glare terrific, the stranger didn’t shade his eyes.
Two yevi crept forward a few steps, lips curled, snarling ferociously. The stiff gray fur on their humped backs rose, flaring like lion’s manes.
Surely the man could see them! Amero thought. Why did he approach so casually?
The stranger resumed his easy pace toward Amero. Two yevi detached from the circle and charged, their claws tearing up clots of muddied soil. Amero closed his eyes and turned away. He’d seen enough of what the yevi could do.
The air quivered, as if from thunder, but there was no sound. The hair on Amero’s arms stood up. Instead of the man’s screams, he heard a concerted yelping from the pack. He opened his eyes cautiously and saw the two attacking yevi had been thrown back. Their bodies lay unmoving, limbs jutting out at twisted angles.
What had happened?
Three more beasts broke ranks and attacked. The fiery-haired man extended his left hand, the fingers spread. When the yevi were within leaping distance, he waved his hand, as if shooing a fly. The air before him blurred — once more Amero felt the hair on his arms stand on end — and the three attackers seemed to be grabbed by invisible hands in mid-flight. They were hurled backward with great speed, landing in a heap near the foot of Amero’s tree. From the way they bounced, they must have broken every bone in their bodies.
The pack exploded. The gray killers flung themselves at the stranger, who repeated his gesture with both hands. Not only the air but the earth trembled, and the yevi scattered like leaves in last night’s storm.
Once the grove was clear of the pack, the man stood in the shadow of Amero’s elm and looked up. He was tall and well-made, though not unusually big or brawny. His skin was lighter than Amero’s, lightly tanned by the sun, and it was smooth and free of scars and marks. He was barefoot and wore a simple loincloth of buckskin, inlaid with strips of some shiny green hide — tortoise shell, or snakeskin of some kind. It was the stranger’s hair that intrigued Amero most. Not only was the color unique, it was short and shaped to his head like that of the black men Amero had seen just days ago. While theirs had been tightly curled, this man’s hair was as straight as Amero’s.
