White Shadows (17 page)

Once outside she wasn’t sure where to start her search. Normally Clay left the towers for the lake by going over and around the white rocks. It was in the open in a few spots, but the grass on the other side of the towers made it hard to hide footprints, as the grass was soft from the damp banks.

Drawing in a deep breath, she made her way to the tree line where the fox had gone. Fear clamored inside her. Once in the shadows of the trees she stopped to listen. Nothing. How was she, one person, going to find the man she loved?

A strange noise had her lifting her head up and tilting her chin to the side so she could listen better. Was that a shuffle? Moving silently, she hid herself among the trees and waited. A twig snapped somewhere to her left. Who was there? Her father? Hoka Luta? Or one of Clay’s warriors?
Please let it be Clay,
she begged the spirit of the fox.

She held her breath as the sounds came closer. There weren’t any thick shrubs for her to use to conceal her presence, so she hunched down into the shadows. There was no time to flee back to the white rocks without being seen and heard.

Keeping her breathing slow and even, she prayed to the spirit of the fox to help her. The fox blended in with his surroundings, so she imagined that she was part of the trunk. She was brown with bits of green moss on her. Her figure was shadowed as were the trunks of the trees. In her mind she became one with her surroundings.

A shadowy figure emerged from a dump of trees. By the time Winona realized it was Clay, he’d passed by without seeing her! In that brief moment her heart had stopped. Not from relief that it was Clay and not someone from her tribe, but from the blur of red as Clay ran past.

Red fox.

Red blood.

Red Badger. Hoka Luta.

Fear deafened her ears as her heart pounded. Without thought as to who might be chasing Clay, she ran after him. “Clay,” she called out as softly as she could.

Ahead of her Clay whirled around, whipping his knife from its sheath. He sagged a bit when he saw her. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Spotting the arrow lodged in his upper arm, Winona ignored his question and grabbed him by the other arm. Her fingers shook. “You are bleeding.”

“You noticed.” Clay’s breathing sounded labored, and his lips were tight with pain. “Your family is sure to be following. Now is your chance to gain your freedom.”

Startled, Winona met his gaze, then stared at his bleeding wound. “We need to wrap this so the blood does not leave a trail.”

Clay pulled away, then hissed in pain at the sharp movement. “Go. It’s too late. There is already a trail.”

Winona swallowed her fear, then used that very emotion to pull herself together. No one would harm the man she loved. Not as long as she was alive. If her father or anyone else caught up with them, they’d deal with her.

She met Clay’s eyes with her own resolved gaze. “Now is not the time for you to be foolish or stubborn.” She paused. “You have already been foolish this day.”

Clay staggered back and leaned against a tree. “If you are worried about your sister, I’ll release her. You are free to go—both of you. I will find Jenny some other way.”

“No, we will find Jenny together.” Winona reached out and took the knife from him.

Clay pushed away from her. “Go. Leave me. I do not need any help. This was doomed to fail from the start. It’s been so long. She’s not alive. And if she is, she’d never remember me.” His words were slurred with pain.

“We can discuss that later. Right now we need to take care of you.” She followed and pulled on his good arm, forcing him to stop. “Do you really want to die?” She softened her tone. “And abandon Jenny?”

Clay opened his mouth but Winona shook her head. “No more. Save your strength. You have waited this long. I will not let you give up now.”

“Not your choice, Golden Eyes.” He paused and swayed as blood continued to trail down his arm and fall to the ground to splatter over pine needles and tall green grass.

Winona pushed him back until he once more rested against the trunk of a tree. She grabbed hold of the front of his breechclout. “You need me; she needs you. No more. I will not listen to such talk.” Lifting his knife, she whacked off a long length of cloth.

“Ahhh,” Clay exclaimed hoarsely. He sucked in his belly and pulled away from Winona and the knife. “Careful!”

Rolling her eyes, Winona shook her head. “As if I’d hurt that part of you!” She bit down on the blade of the knife to hold it so she could use both hands to grab the feathered end of the arrow. She glanced at him. He held her gaze, his own softening with love. Finally he nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she broke the shaft so she could wrap his wound. With the long shaft he’d never be able to get through the narrow tunnel. As it was, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it through on his own. She firmed her lips. He would make it back to their place of hiding even if she had to drag him herself!

Clay shuddered but didn’t make a sound. Working quickly, Winona bound his upper arm as best as she could. Then she washed her hands in the lake, cut off the back of his loincloth and washed the blood from him.

“Ready?”

He eyed her. Pain and wonder filled his eyes. “Now you are the foolish one.”

Winona shrugged. “And you are a
waglula
to worry me so.”

Clay yanked hard on her long hair. “We need to work on your name-calling or find you more flattering names to use.”

Reassured by a small chuckle from Clay, she made him go first so she could make sure he didn’t leave a trail. When they reached the white rocks he was bleeding through the bandage. She used the damp cloth to wipe the blood before it fell onto the rocks.

By the time she got Clay back into their safe cavern they were both covered with sweat and blood, and Clay’s face was as pale as the rocks below.

How could he have been so careless? Night Shadow had earned his name by moving silently, unseen and unheard. Night Shadow would never have been caught unaware. But once again Clay had let his guard down. This time, as the last time, he’d nearly paid with his life.

Echoes of the past crowded into his mind. Screams of pain and fear. Taunting laughter. Jeering hatred. All his fault for not being more careful. After his father’s death he’d been responsible for his siblings and mother. He should have been on alert. Instead he’d allowed his own need for normalcy to distract him.

He’d tried to be his father. Clayton Coburn would have stopped to play with his children, but he would also have been alert to danger. Unlike Clay Blue Hawk.

In a foul mood, due to his own stupidity and the throbbing pain in his arm, Night Shadow watched Winona pace nervously.

“Come back and sit,” he grumbled, hating the sight of his knife in her hands. He was the warrior. It was his duty to guard her. But every time he tried to stand, he nearly passed out—and got reprimanded as well.

“Go to sleep,” Winona ordered. Her fingers flexed open, then gripped the handle of the knife firmly.

A whisper of air carrying her scent wafted over him as his fierce warrior woman strode past, careful to keep out of his reach—not that he could grab her with his injured arm.

Night Shadow sighed but fought the drowsiness beating at him. A faint whistle drifted through the window. He tensed but relaxed after a few moments when the second part of the signal did not follow.

Either Crazy Fox or Sharp Nose was in the area, and Night Shadow expected whoever had distracted Henry to show soon. Had one of them not been near to provide cover to allow Night Shadow to escape, he’d have been killed, and Winona would have been left unprotected. His drooping gaze followed Winona’s every movement. Had she not disobeyed him and come for him, he’d have died. He knew he’d never have made it back into the rocky hideout on his own.

Night Shadow sighed and shifted. Stabbing white-hot pain traveled up and down his arm, driving the fatigue from him.

“Stop moving around.” Winona came back to set his knife out of his reach, and leaned down to check his arm. She frowned at the signs of fresh bleeding.

“I’ll live,” he muttered, trying to pull away from her. Shame at his failure to detect the enemy made his voice harsh.

Sitting back on her heels, Winona rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, you will.” She lowered her arms and sent him a hard stare. “You have no choice in the matter.”

Night Shadow picked up the broken pieces of the arrow and stared at them to keep his emotions hidden. He was touched by her fierce need to protect him as much as he was humiliated.

“I do not understand why Henry did not kill you. You said he surprised you.” Winona shifted so her legs were folded to one side.

Night Shadow scowled as he stared at two lines of red paint that ran from the feathered shaft down to the pointed tip. Leaning his head back against the cool wall, he tossed the broken arrow away from them.

“A boy with a training bow could have surprised me,” he admitted. With his teeth clenched tightly, Night Shadow closed his eyes, ready to endure her scorn. To his surprise he felt the tips of her fingers slide down the side of his face, tracing the rough edges of his scar.

“It was my fault,” Winona said softly.

His eyes flew open at that. The last thing he’d expected or wanted to hear was her taking the blame for something of his own making. “No, Golden Eyes. You were right. I should have waited for night.”

He shifted again, more to keep awake than to get comfortable. “Have to stay awake. Sharp Nose or Crazy Fox will come soon.”

“It is a good thing one of them was around!” She jumped up and kicked a rock aside, shuffled his bags of supplies around, picked up the knife and strode around the cavern.

Her movements were jerky, her steps firm, her shoulders and lips set. She was furious. Not at him—for him. Slowly his own anger melted away. How could he resist the fire in this woman? Something shifted deep inside. His Golden Eyes had turned into a force to be reckoned with.

Her anger as she tossed things around instead of carefully setting the items down as she usually did warned that there was more to come. He fully expected her to rip him to shreds for his foolishness. In truth, he welcomed it. Deserved it.

“Why did they not help you when you were injured?” Her voice was sharp, yet she kept the volume down in case anyone was near, though with the solid rock surrounding them it would be hard for anyone to hear.

Night Shadow lifted a brow. “They are not to blame. They had their duties.”

Winona moved close and stood over him with hands on hips. “Do not make excuses where there are none to be accepted. Their first duty is to you.”

Wincing, Night Shadow shrugged. “One of them saved my life.” And he’d never live his carelessness down.

A hand slashing the air silenced him. “Do not defend them. You were injured and left to return alone.” She paused and glared down at him. “I will make my feelings on this matter very clear to whoever was responsible.”

“Calm yourself, Golden Eyes. You were there.” Night Shadow basked in the warmth of her fury. He owed this woman his life. A thread of humor twisted its way through the pride rushing through him.

He lifted one brow. “What names will you call them?”

Winona whirled around. “You laugh at me!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I will have my say.”

Holding out his hand to her, Night Shadow smiled again. “I have no doubt, Golden Eyes. Now come sit down.”

“There is much for me to do. I have other chores now.” Her voice trembled.

“I am a chore?” He knew she referred to caring for him.

Winona sighed and walked back to him. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her down. “You are a chore.” She gave him a half smile. “A very nice chore.”

He saw tears gathering. “Don’t cry, Golden Eyes. I will be fine.” He’d rather have her yell and call him names. Anything but tears and sadness.

Winona leaned into his good arm. “You promised to be back early.”

Holding her tight, Night Shadow rested his chin on top of her head. “I know. I worried you, and for that I am sorry.”

Relaxing, Winona threaded their fingers together. “So you should be.” She paused. “Who has Spotted Deer?” she asked.

Relieved to be discussing something—anything—else, Night Shadow replied, “Dream Walker.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

Clay fingered a long strand of her hair. “He is like a brother to me. I’d trust him with my life…” His voice faded with drowsiness. “He will come soon, with your sister.”

Winona rose up onto her knees and urged him to shift and lean back against a pile of furs and belongings so that he could sleep partially sitting. Then she rejoined him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I miss Spotted Deer.”

“I know. I am sorry for that too. It was never my intention to take your sister. But…”

“You couldn’t resist,” she finished.

Night Shadow fought to keep awake, but the herb drink she’d prepared for him was making him drowsy. “I will have Dream Walker return her safely to your father. He will leave her in a place where she will be found.”

“And me?” Winona asked hesitantly. “Are you going to send me away?”

He should. He planned to send her away. But not yet. He couldn’t; he needed her too much, and he couldn’t blame that on the part of him that was Clay. Night Shadow, the warrior, needed her every bit as much as Clay, the man. Slowly the two men he’d kept in separate compartments of his mind were merging, becoming one.

Tightening his good arm around her, he shook his head. “You are mine, Golden Eyes, but if you want to return, I will not stop you. I owe you for saving my life.” He closed his eyes against the pain of losing her. He wasn’t sure he could bear to lose another loved one.

Winona snuggled closer and pulled a fur around them. “That is good, for I am not leaving. Ever. I have chosen you and will stick to you like mud. Now sleep. I will protect you.”

Night Shadow made an attempt to sound outraged. “You have your duties confused, woman. Protecting is warriors’ work.”

“Then you had best get well quickly. If you do not, I will think of more names to call you.”

“Call me anything you want as long as you do not leave,” he whispered, running the fingers of his injured arm through the soft strands of her hair.

Her hand stopped him. “Sleep.” Winona twined her fingers with his and Clay gave himself over to sleep. But he did not let go of the woman he loved.

The next day Winona was back up in her high vantage point with her chin resting on her fisted hands. Brilliant blue water mirrored the rocks where she hid, and a warm breeze drifted around her while cold from the granite seeped upward through her body. The cry of an eagle pierced the air, as if tempting her to focus her attention on his majestic beauty.

But Winona kept her gaze focused on the warriors far below her. Her father and his warriors were scouting the banks, looking for tracks. Knowing that he would come and explore the rock formation once again, she slipped back down to where Clay slept.

He moved restlessly. She frowned and touched her fingertips to his forehead. No fever, but his sleep was not restful She carefully checked his wound. Luckily for him, the arrow had torn through the lower part of his upper arm. It would mend with no permanent damage, but it would take time for the muscle to completely heal. In the meantime he wouldn’t be able to use his bow or knife to hunt or protect anyone. That left the job to her.

Leaving his side, she hurried to the cracks in the rock where she could watch. Her father’s warriors were closer now—so close that all she had to do was go to the window and wave her hands and her father would see her. Or she could just leave and go to meet her father.

But she did neither. Guilt brought tears to her eyes. She desperately wanted her father to know she was all right. Better than all right. She was in love and happy with Clay.

Well, almost. True happiness could not be had until Spotted Deer was returned, Hoka Luta was taken care of and Clay was out of danger from both Hoka Luta and her father. And if they found Clay’s sister, then their happiness would be complete.

She searched among the warriors for Hoka Luta. The more she thought of what he’d done, the ease with which he’d deceived them all, the angrier she became. He was clever. Cunning. He’d hidden his past so completely that if Clay hadn’t survived no one would ever know of his true nature.

Winona didn’t see him. With his red paint, he always stood out. She wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. Had Sharp Nose or Crazy Fox killed him?

No, they wouldn’t kill him. Hoka Luta was the only one who could tell them what he’d done with Jenny. She followed the line of warriors as they moved closer. Some were now below, at the base of the three towers. She listened but couldn’t hear much, just low tones.

Another noise reached her: a soft moan. Jumping to her feet, keeping her head down so she wasn’t revealed in the window, Winona hurried to Clay’s side. He thrashed and moaned. Fearing another nightmare, Winona stroked his jaw.

“Clay, wake up. You dream.”

He muttered and swatted at her hand. “No,” he began.

“Clay!” This time she pulled at his good arm. “Wake,” she ordered in a harsh whisper.

Lost in his own world, Clay did not respond. Glancing over her shoulder, fearing that if Clay shouted out he’d be heard, she tried to reach him the only other way she knew.

She kissed him, keeping her mouth over his until he responded. His eyes flew open and he reached out.

“Golden—”

“Shush, my father is below. You must remain awake so you do not dream.”

The pain of the past cleared from his eyes. He nodded.

“I need to go check on them, see if they are gone.” She hated to leave him, but he lifted his hand to her cheek.

“Go,” he whispered. “Go, but come back.”

“Always,” she promised.

Winona went back to where she’d been sitting. She didn’t dare go up on top, so once again she peered through the cracks. Warriors swarmed everywhere below, some jumping across the white rocks, others directly below. Those she couldn’t see were reflected on the mirrored surface of the lake.

She heard her name called. Had she missed a drop of blood? Did her father know they were here, hidden? She kept silent, and after what seemed like forever she saw them retreating back to the other side of the lake.

Winona couldn’t stop the tears from flowing when she saw her father’s slumped shoulders. He’d never forgive her for choosing Clay over him.

The child returned. This time the blue surrounding her was stronger. And a red light seemed to glow within. Calming her breathing, Seeing Eyes relaxed into the vision. She welcomed it, gave thanks for it

The child stared at her solemnly. Seeing Eyes studied her. She knew this child, this quiet girl who screamed in the night. The child blurred and distorted until she became a young woman. The young woman raised her hands and the blue aura lifted and floated before her, forming a large lake.

Seeing Eyes breathed in through her nose. She knew the lake.
Yes, child. The lake. My daughters are there
. She was about to jump to her feet to go after her husband, but Winona stepped into the vision with a handsome man at her side.

His features were blurred, but Winona smiled and hugged the rugged warrior. She was safe. Both girls were safe.

Seeing Eyes relaxed. But with a suddenness that left her sick, all three fell to their knees. Blood spluttered out of cuts and slashes and flowed into the lake, turning it from a place of peace to a place of death.

“No!” She shoved aside the vision and the leftover drowsiness and jumped to her feet.

White Wind rushed over. “What is it, mother of my husband?”

Star Dreamer joined them. “She had a vision.” Her eyes still had a faraway look.

Seeing Eyes took a minute to kneel. “As did you, my sweet one.”

The little girl tried to look grown-up, but her lower lip trembled. “I don’t like visions. I want them to go away.”