Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(4)

Or so I thought.

That day, I saw Kol and his whole clan as enemies—enemies of my heart and of my mind. I squint into the wind, and I see him in my memory as if he is standing there now.

How little I understood Kol that day.

Chev hesitates, looks east toward the mountains, and rolls his spear in his hand. Absentmindedly, Seeri does the same.

“Stay alert,” Chev says. But we were all here that day. We all saw the cat I killed, and we all remember the danger.

We turn, following a faint track where feet have crossed into the hills. My eyes scan the sky and I notice fast-moving clouds, blowing down from beyond the snowcapped peaks in the northeast, turning the placid blue into something ominous and wild. I drop my eyes, not wanting to think what kind of sign these clouds might be. Instead, I watch our shadows move over the flowers under our feet—purple, blue, and white—and search their blooms for honeybees.

By the time we reach the gravel path that winds up into the foothills, I haven’t seen a single one. Too cold, I think, as the wind swirls my hair around my shoulders.

We climb, hiking higher as the gravel underfoot turns to stone, then to slabs. The path twists as it winds around tall, jutting walls of rock. We arrive at the boulders that form a gate to the alpine meadow where we found the mammoth herd that day. Looking in, the field is as it was—windswept and lush—and the pool where the two streams meet remains wide and still. At its edge, caribou and elk graze between tall sedges.

But we find no mammoths and no hunting party.

Chev continues up the trail, and we follow without comment. I do not always like to let my brother lead—in fact, I rarely do—but today I’m happy to lag behind. I dread each new step forward, not knowing what might be found around each turn.

I can think of many things that might detain a hunting party. None of them are good.

We climb higher for a while, but then the path turns down, descending to a pass into a narrow canyon—a canyon surrounded on all sides by tall crags of steeply rising rock. The walls soar so high, and the sun in the west sits so low, a blanket of shadow covers the canyon floor. Standing above on the sunlit pass, looking down into the walled canyon, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the contrast. Slowly, shapes separate from shadows, and I recognize what I see.

Inside the canyon, their backs to the towers of stone, stand the members of the hunting party—Arem, Pek . . . Kol. And between the three of them and us, blocking their escape to the pass, stands a herd of mammoths. They hold still, as still as the rocks that rise behind the hunters.

I count ten mammoths in all.

Our vantage point is lit by the sideways beams of the evening sun, stretching our shadows toward the canyon like the fingers of a reaching hand. A hand reaching through the pass that forms the only route of retreat—the only way of escape. The mammoths are all attentive, all threatening, all waiting expectantly for the quick move, the sudden sound, the provocation that will send them surging forward to crush the cornered hunters.

The fingers of our shadows disappear into the gloomy light on the canyon floor, and I wonder if Kol and the others even know we’re here. I don’t dare call Kol’s name or even raise an arm to attract his eye. Seeri and Chev hover beside me, as motionless as the mammoths.

Six humans, ten beasts. Sixteen hearts beating. And yet the only motion is overhead. The clouds race by, and a buzzard, anticipating, circles high in the sky.

The danger of Kol’s situation sets a wide distance between us, so that he feels remote and far off, though in reality he is close enough that I can see his face clearly. The three of them are framed in light above the shade as if they wade in murky water. I notice the angle of Kol’s body, one shoulder pointing in the direction of the pass, ready to block his brother Pek, just a few paces to his right, from an advancing mammoth.

What good could that possibly do? What help could flesh and bones offer against a charging mammoth?

My foot slides as I shift my weight forward. A stone rolls out from beneath my heel and skitters along the gravel of the pass, sending small pebbles tumbling over a steep drop to my right. A long moment of silence is followed by the rattle of rocks against rock far below. The sound echoes against the canyon walls.

I hold my breath. A dark shape traces across the ground—the slanted shadow of the circling bird. He is expectant, ready, as we all are. I listen as the pebbles fall, each one a voice calling No! No! No!

And then the voices hush. Nothing else stirs. The mammoths hold their places like silent sentries.

The shadow of the bird sweeps across me, and I see Kol move.

His head tips back, ever so slightly, and he raises his eyes.

He sees me. I am revealed to him. Here, in this moment of held breath, of balance between life and death. I stand in the sharp light of the sun’s clarifying rays, in my ornate tunic, my stiff, new pants, my dark braids woven with ivory beads.

He sees me, and I am known to him.

My heartbeat trips on the thought, but before it can tumble out of control, something in Kol’s gaze catches me and sets me right again.

It’s not that he smiles, though he does smile. But it’s more than that. Something passes over his face—the opposite of the wildness of the fast-moving clouds and the ominous shade cast by the bird. Something like peace passes over his face, where there was nothing but wariness there before.

And that peace, just for a moment, comes back to me. For just a moment, it crowds out dread and fear.