Free A Girl Called Badger (Valley of the Sleeping Birds) by Stephen Colegrove Page B

and leave me in peace.”
    He bowed his head and left the quarters with the boys trailing behind.
     
    IT WAS TIME FOR the mid-day meal. Wilson didn’t feel like eating and instead wandered up to his hiding spot over the valley. Someone had left three carvings in the brown needles since he’d been there last. Each of the delicate figures had been carefully chipped from blonde aspen and rubbed smooth with poppyseed oil. All three were human-shaped but one was smaller, like a child.
    He lay on his back and watched the feathery clouds through the pine branches. He should have been upset that someone had found his favorite spot, but instead he felt somber and detached. Maye he’d been the actual intruder these past few years. He felt miserable at the thought that he could have stolen such a relaxing place from someone.
     For the first time he thought about leaving the valley. A local tribe would accept him as medicine man easily enough. Or he could live on his own. Whatever he did had to be dramatic enough to pierce Badger’s cold heart. The afternoon sun warmed the air and Wilson fell asleep without wanting to.
    Raindrops sprinkled his face. He yawned and opened his eyes to see Badger leaning over him with a water skin. She wore her usual brown jacket and trousers and had braided her hair.
    Wilson cleared his throat. “Hello?”
    She backed out of arm’s reach. Wilson watched a red-tailed hawk soar on the evening breeze as he waited for Badger to speak. A squirrel rummaged through the leaves and her partner screeched from a nearby tree.
    “It’s not an easy life in this valley,” said Badger. “I’ve been here for eight summers and everyone still thinks of me as that fierce, wild-eyed girl that Simpson found under a pile of blankets. The thought of wild animals tearing apart everyone you know ... that’s just a bad dream for the rest of you. Wake up and it’s gone. Get dressed and eat your breakfast. You can move on with your life while I’m still in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to forget.”
    “I’m sorry about your family,” said Wilson. “And if anyone has treated you badly since you came here.”
    Badger shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. Wasn’t your father killed by tribals?”
    “Yes, he was.” Wilson rubbed his eyes. “The bastards ambushed his hunting party. Mother said he wasn’t a good hunter, but for some reason Reed needed extra men. It was an off-map hunt.”
    “What was he good at?”
    “Making things. He was the chief metalworker.”
    Badger was quiet again, and still watched the valley. Wilson slid next to her. He unplugged the water-skin and took a long drink.
    “I thought this place was my own little secret,” he said. “Turns out you’ve been coming here for a long time.”
    Badger nodded. “Soon after I came to Station. You looked so happy and relaxed––completely different from the goofy, big-brained genius that I’d seen before. I didn’t want to say anything.”
    “Thank you. I would’ve shared it, though. Especially with you.”
    Badger let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? It’s hard for anyone to get close to me, Will. I don’t have a good temper, even on my best days.”
    “You’re probably right. But like my mother says, the prickly pear has the sweetest insides.”
    She punched him in the shoulder. “I’ll show my knife your insides.”
    Wilson held out his hand. “Truce?”
    “Only if you promise never to keep anything from me again.”
    “I promise.”
    “Okay, then.” Badger shook his hand and dropped it quickly. “Now tell me you found something useful.”
    The feel of her warm fingers lingered in Wilson’s mind. He pushed it away like a dog shaking his coat.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Sorry. I looked through the library and database and couldn’t find anything, except for the fact that seizures used to be treated with medicines. Even if we had any of these old medicines or could make more of them, your condition