Free People of the Mist by W. Michael Gear Page B

of him or his family.
                 Corn
Hunter wore a grim expression, brooding, his square jaw propped on a meaty palm
as he stared thoughtfully at Barnacle. The Weroance had begun to gray, his body
gone soft and round in the gut. Old tattoos had faded into his age-darkened
skin until they were barely recognizable. Water Snake had placed Corn Hunter,
his younger brother, in charge of White Stake Village nearly twenty years past.
The appointment had been enforced by the Mamanatowick’s warriors in the
beginning, but over the years Corn Hunter had proved a solid man, if somewhat
unimaginative. His duty to his older brother had consisted mostly of
stabilizing the northern borders, and checking on Flat Pearl Village and the
allies of Greenstone Clan.
                 Few
failed to realize that Water Snake wished to control the territories held by
the Independent villages. Over the years, he had sent several expeditions to
bring Flat Pearl, Three Myrtle, and Oyster villages under his sway by
intimidation or conquest. Each had been met and repulsed by Greenstone warriors
and their allies. Winged Blackbird owed his appointment as War Chief to just
such a raid, when his predecessor, Net Sinker, had been killed in combat with
Nine Killer.
                 “Barnacle
has brought news,” Corn Hunter had told him. “Hunting Hawk, of Greenstone Clan,
has promised her granddaughter to Copper Thunder. As we speak, the girl is
becoming a woman. You will take warriors and go north. See if what the Trader
tells us is true.”
                 Shocked
by the news, Winged Blackbird had asked, “How soon, my chief?”
                 “Now.
Tonight. Make sure that Hunting Hawk knows that this marriage will displease
the Water Snake.”
                 “Tonight?
But I’ll need several days to collect my warriors. Some are hunting, others are
fishing. It—”
                 “Tonight,
War Chief!”
                 “And
what am I to do? Just tell her she can’t marry off her granddaughter?”
                 “I
leave that to you. You are War Chief. You may pursue the matter as you think
best, but this marriage must not take place.”
                 Winged
Blackbird had managed to pull together two tens of warriors. What he could do
with such a tiny force remained to be seen. The first part of his plan was to
arrive unexpectedly at Flat Pearl Village —posing as a hunting party that just
happened to be in the area. A peaceful visit, that’s all.
                 Hunting
Hawk was smart. The old woman hadn’t held her position and maintained her
independence all these years by being a fool. She’d see the subtle threat. His
greatest challenge would be the artful delivery of the message so as not to
threaten overtly, but to imply dire consequences should the marriage proceed.
“We are getting close,” he told his warriors. “Be alert.”
                 Not
a stick of fallen wood lay on the forest floor, and some of the stumps had been
chopped down with stone axes. Beneath the nut trees, the soil lay beaten down
by the collectors of hickory, pinaquin, and walnuts.
                 So
far, so good. With luck, he and his warriors could just walk up to the palisade
and call out a greeting. A little more luck, and Hunting Hawk would receive him
politely, and provide a feast. He’d be hurrying south by nightfall, his message
delivered.
                 Just
as he decided he might have a glimmering of a chance, a man stepped out from
behind a thick tree trunk to block his way.
                 Winged
Blackbird held up his hand, bringing his warriors to a halt. His heart skipped
as he recognized that short figure, the bandy legs, and muscular arms. The
famous ash-wood bow was strung, and Nine Killer had an arrow nocked.
                 “Greetings,
War Chief,” Nine Killer called out. “What