A sudden light burst through the blackness.
The brilliance was painful to Eanrin’s unaccustomed eyes, but it proved that he was not blind, so he turned to it. How far away it was, scarcely more than a pinprick, but swiftly approaching. Against his will, his arms outstretched, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he found he had no words.
A rhythmic pace beat upon his ears. A loping gait, unhurried, unthwarted, deliberate as it advanced.
“He’s coming!” spoke the voice in the darkness behind Eanrin’s shoulder. “He will be upon you soon!”
“Who is coming?” Eanrin formed the words without sound. Shading his eyes, he strained to peer into that brilliant glare.
“Quick, take my hand!” Eanrin felt something touch him in the dark. He shuddered and stepped away, but the voice spoke with still more urgency.
“If you do not come with me, he will catch you, and you will lose everything! Everything you are. Do you understand me? So voracious is his appetite, he will devour you!”
“Who will?”
“The Hound!” hissed the voice, made small in its terror. “The Hound is coming!”
4
STARFLOWER
SUN EAGLE CARRIED WITH HIM my father’s name mark, a large red bead with a black panther painted across it. This he presented to the older men, those who were past the age for battle but who stood guard over the village while the fighting men were gone. Though the bead was certainly genuine, they remained uneasy with the presence of a Crescent lad. Until the Eldest and his warriors returned, Sun Eagle would know only uneasy hospitality in Redclay. Many cast him dark glances and even muttered threats when he passed by.
“Traitor’s son,” they called him.
To avoid as much unpleasantness as possible, he hid away in the most unfrequented quarter of the village: the Eldest’s House, home of the cursed children.
I was no more at ease in his presence than any other in my village, though for different reasons. But as the days passed, Sun Eagle proved himself a quiet, well-spoken young man. He seemed to sense my discomfort, and rather than take advantage of it as other young men might, he kept his distance.
I watched him as I went about my daily tasks, this stranger who, if he spoke the truth, was to be my husband. As an elder’s son, he did not assist me in any of the household work but spent much of his time whittling a new spear shaft or chipping away at a sharp rock to make the head. His movements were deft, and I could see that his work was fine. I had often watched my father go about similar tasks during the winter months. I thought Sun Eagle’s work perhaps equal to the Eldest’s.
Fairbird adored him. She was forever lingering in his shadow, frightened as a shy kitten if he looked her way but quickly warming the moment he showed any sign of friendliness. I, however, was less easily won.
One day, I sat in the yard tending to Frostbite’s shoulder. The poor dog was slow to recover and made nervous by the close proximity of Bear. But she had learned to trust me since the encounter by the stream, and I loved her. Not for any grace of temper or outward beauty on her part. She was a mean-spirited creature still, willing to bite my hand even as I fed her. And she was certainly no beauty with her shaggy gray coat and long nose. But I loved her. I loved her because no one else had, and she needed love more than she knew, poor beast. And as I tended her wounds, I poured that love through my fingers and hands, stroking her head and ears, willing her to take it in. It was a slow process, but within twelve days, I began to see a softening in her spirit as her longing for affection grew.
I could see Sun Eagle from where I worked. He sat in the shade cast by the house, concentrating on some project. I could not see what it was, only that it was not a weapon. It was difficult to discern more than that, especially while carefully pretending disinterest. So I smeared a soothing poultice on Frostbite’s mending skin and told myself that I did not care.
Suddenly I heard Sun Eagle laugh. I turned and saw my sister standing in front of him, a great smile on her face. He was hanging something around her neck. Even from that distance, I realized what it was: a name bead like my father’s, like the one my mother had made for me. Sun Eagle had carved it from wood and colored it with pigments.