Free It Wakes in Me by Kathleen O’Neal Gear Page A

obviously straining to hear their words. Feather Dancer gave the man a lethal look.
    Cold Spring rose and hurried back to his place along the far wall. The woman next to him murmured a question, but Cold Spring just shook his head and looked away.
    “It’s probably nothing,” she said. “He’s as eager to understand what’s going on as we are.”
    Feather Dancer kept glowering at Cold Spring. “Where is Flint? Did you see him?”
    “Yes.” She sighed. “By betraying me, he’s become the local hero. Horned Owl has been feasting him and offering Flint his choice of the village maidens.”
    Feather Dancer’s face contorted into a grimace. “If I didn’t want to kill him so much, I’d feel sorry for him.”

    “Yes. He’s an Outcast now. He will never be able to return to the Black Falcon Nation. He will only have a home among our enemies, and he had better pray that our enemies don’t suddenly wish to become our friends, because he will be the first prize offered as a sign of their good faith.”
    She’d seen it happen. When an alien people wanted to create a political alliance with the Black Falcon Nation, a traitor was often sent as a gift. He was killed, of course.
    Deep inside her, she uttered a soft prayer that the Loon People never wanted to ally themselves with the Black Falcon Nation—but … if Feather Dancer was wrong, and the Loon Nation was sending warriors to join the jade war party, Wink and Horned Owl would very likely forge an alliance.
    Either way, Flint must know his days are numbered.
    Feather Dancer said, “You should sleep.”
    “I’ve been sleeping for days.”
    “You will need your strength, Chieftess. Please listen to me. Rest whenever they let you.”
    His worried expression told her far more than his words. Was he afraid they were going to torture her tomorrow?
    “Yes, you’re right.” She touched his arm gratefully, rose, and walked around the fire toward Pipit.
    The little girl anxiously gazed up at her.
    “I am Chieftess Sora,” she said as she knelt. “Would you like to share my cape tonight?”
    Pipit’s eyes widened. “Will you be warm enough if I do?”
    “I think we’ll both be warmer.” Sora stretched out on the floor and held Strongheart’s cape open. Pipit crawled inside and cautiously lay down. As Sora lowered the cape to cover the girl, she said, “Sleep well, Pipit.”
    She was silent for a long while; then she whispered, “I can’t.”
    “Why is that?”

    Pipit licked her lips. “My mother whispers to me all night long. I don’t know how she gets into the village past the guards, but she stands just outside the lodge and calls and calls my name, trying to get me to come outside.”
    A chill prickled Sora’s spine. Had the woman’s soul been so worried about Pipit that it had remained on earth and become a homeless ghost? Homeless ghosts frequently went insane and drove their loved ones’ reflection-souls into the forest, where they, too, became homeless ghosts.
    She hugged Pipit. “Well, try to sleep. You need your rest so that you can work tomorrow.”
    “Yes, I know, but I don’t want my mother to think I’m being bad. If you hear her calling me, will you tell her I’m not ignoring her? I’m just asleep.”
    “Of course, I’ll tell her.”
    How strange that the girl still feared being “bad.” Pipit’s mother must have scolded her often for not listening to her. Or was there more to it? Had Pipit ignored her mother’s voice during the battle, and that’s why she was captured?
    “What happened to your father, Pipit?”
    “Oh, he’s well, thank you. He watches over me, day and night. Sometimes I see him sneaking through the forest just beyond where we’re working. He can’t get too close, because of the guards, but he smiles at me.”
    All around the lodge, people spoke in weary tones as they crawled beneath their capes. Sora noticed that Feather Dancer shared his cape with the young wounded warrior.
    Pipit craned her neck to