“Well, I’m awake. So I’m going with you.”
Instead of traveling back down to my boat, I follow you through a shower of freezing rain, up a narrow footpath that leads to the peak above us. I look down to the surface of the water and some part of me stirs with the memory of scrambling up the rocks in the dark last night. My bruised hands remind me how slippery and treacherous it was. Yet as difficult as that trail was to climb, the trek farther up strikes me as impossible. Only the smallest cutouts in the rock allow me to place my feet safely as we ascend. “This path is man-made,” I say.
“My brother found that cave when our clan first settled here. We use it as a lookout, to watch the sea to the north.”
“Watching for what?”
“When we first came here, it was you. Well, your clan. We watched for the kayaks of the Manu, not knowing if you would pursue us.”
I’m struck by the sudden realization of how improbable it is that you and I should find ourselves here, together on this morning. The past should have ensured that this day would never come. Your mother and your betrothed both died. Your brother killed a man. You and I should have remained enemies for the rest of our lives. Yet here we are, making this climb together.
My foot slips on loose gravel as I take my next step up the steep path and you spin around quickly and grab my arm to stop me from tumbling. Our eyes meet, but you turn your head, dropping your gaze to the rock underfoot.
Why won’t you look at me? Are you embarrassed about last night? Or did the mention of the history between our clans stir some resentment toward me?
I don’t ask. Today is not a day for talking. With each step, the urgency to reach your family grows. There will be time to talk later. For now, I focus on my footing and ensure you don’t have to help me again.
It isn’t long before we reach the highest point of the cliff and start to descend. The terrain drops down into a pass between two rocky slopes, both of which are streaked with flows of water, runoff from what has again become torrential rain.
The trail is little more than a ledge of hanging boulders and rocks, suspended from the wall on our left. To the right, a drop-off plunges to a ravine filled with rushing water. It is a long way down—at least the height of three men, standing on each other’s shoulders.
The slabs we cross are wet and slick with sleet. Once—then a second time—you stumble, but you right yourself before I have the chance to come to your aid. You plod on, without even a glance back at me.
My stomach tightens. If one of us were to get hurt—if one of us were unable to keep walking—the other would have to leave them here, alone on these cold, wet rocks. We don’t discuss the danger, but our progress slows as we take more care to place our feet.
Gradually, the trail descends to the floor of the ravine, until we are walking alongside the rapids. In places, the trail and the river merge, and we have to scramble over boulders surrounded by rushing water.
Finally, the trail winds down to the base of the cliff. It levels and broadens, becoming a corridor that cuts through two wide swaths of trees.
Through the gray rain, I spot a valley that opens at the foot of the path. This is a view I recognize. We hurry now that the ground is flatter. The trees end abruptly, yielding to a clearing. Below us stands a circle of huts—your camp.
In your meeting place, the elders of your clan are gathered under the roof. They sit in a tight circle, speaking in hushed tones. Are they planning their defense? Morsk is among them, and when he sees me he gets to his feet, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he gives me a long, critical stare, his eyes full of contempt. He watches me as I follow you to Chev’s door.
I’m not sure if Morsk is reacting to his broken betrothal to Seeri, or to the threat of an attack on your clan. Maybe, like you, he feels that nothing good has ever come from contact with the Manu.
We find Chev in his hut with Yano and Ela, who stop their chanted prayers when we enter. From the look in Chev’s eyes, I’d say he has been awake all night, waiting for you. Those tired eyes shift to me, and for a rare moment I think I can read your brother’s expression. His usual stoic facade breaks. He was not expecting me.
“Where did you find him?” he asks you.
“He was out on the water last night, half dead with cold and exhaustion—”
“Last night?”
“At the height of the storm. He came to warn us.”
Your brother turns to me and I can see he’s sizing me up, weighing all he knows of me to decide if he should trust me.
I’d been your clan’s hero once, when I killed the cat. That was not long ago. But since then, I’d defended Lo when it was revealed that she was plotting to kill him. Could he wonder if I might be conspiring with her? If I am here to give you false information?
His attention slides from my face to yours. He doesn’t speak, but he is asking you. This will be your decision to make.