Free Tribe: The Red Hand (Tribe Series Book 1) by Kaelyn Ross Page B

Between the two of them, they could transform almost any sort of junk into useful tools or weapons, of one sort or another.
    Behind the heaps of rusty scrap rose the cedar-shingled roof of Fat Will’s forge, and from its wobbly brick chimney climbed an ever-present plume of smoke. If habit held true, Fat Will would be late to the ceremony. Of all the people in the village, no one worked harder, except for farmers, but even they had the winter months to rest before the next year’s planting.
    You’re stalling again , Kestrel told herself, and left Fat Will to his labor.
    The sudden and violent need to vomit coiled through Kestrel’s belly as soon as she saw the village wall, a sheer bulwark of stone and earth rising twenty feet in height. In her mind’s eye, she imagined the villagers standing watch for her, their faces calm, but their eyes alive with doubt. Far away, in one of the lower summer pastures, a calf bawled for its mother. The sound was at once urgent and forlorn. Kestrel felt a kinship with the poor beast.
    “You are a Red Hand,” she told herself in harsh tones, and the greasy twisting of her insides slowly eased. She strode through the Mountain Gate and entered the village.
    As soon as Kestrel saw how deserted the village was, she felt like a fool. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have known this was what she would find. The real show, after all, was at the Bone Tree.
    That’s where they’ll be waiting. That’s where they’ll be watching. That’s where I’ll have to —
    The need to spew her last meal struck again, but this time the sensation made Kestrel angry. Stop this! she chided herself. You are Red Hand, and the first enemy a Red Hand slays is fear. Go to the Bone Tree. Go now, and let all know that you do not fear!
    Kestrel obeyed her silent command, and quickly strode along the wide dirt tracks winding through the village. Dogs nosing about for scraps of anything to eat looked up at her passing, wagged their tails, barked happy greetings, then went back to their eternal searches. Ever watchful cats were more elusive, keeping to the shadows between stone and timber buildings, or lurking under two-wheeled carts loaded with everything from firewood to metal scrap bound for Fat Will’s forge to wooden buckets loaded with the first berries of summer. She knew the hour was growing late, as red and gold now smudged the evening sky.
    Every time her stride slowed, she told herself: Go!
    Before long she was running, her legs carrying her through a row of timber granaries standing on wooden posts along one side of the village green, across this large open space reserved for festivals and marriage ceremonies, and then through a row of cabins.
    Soon after, she passed from the village through the Bald Hill Gate, and sprinted up a forest trail thick with the sweet smell of evergreens, her feet drumming lightly over a carpet of pine straw.
    It struck her that she was racing to outpace her fears, while at the same time running straight toward the very thing she feared most. Even as she considered this, she burst into the open field below the Bone Tree and skidded to a halt, panting, nervous eyes darting.
    People milled about everywhere. She had known them all her life, but they all looked like strangers.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
     
     
     
     
     
    A few villagers might have noticed her abrupt arrival, but most were busy eating, laughing, or trying in vain to wrangle unruly children who were chasing each other about. Again, if she had been thinking straight, she would have remembered this was how it always was … at least until the actual ceremony began.
    Kestrel’s gaze climbed briefly above the villagers to the Bone Tree, standing alone atop a large grassy knoll. Knowing what would happen when she stood beneath it, she dropped her gaze, and found her mother talking to Mary, a short plump woman who worked the fields with her. Aiden stood on the opposite side of the clearing, speaking with his band