“Not out in the open. He deserves better than that,” I say. I think of Noni’s mother, covered in small stones. It felt almost like decoration as we placed them on her body. “We need to cover him. I want to feel like we’ve done a sort of burial. Something . . .” My voice breaks, and I go quiet. I don’t want Morsk to try to comfort me.
I get up from the ground and begin to walk farther into the trees, off the trail, until I find a depression in the ground—a place where the terrain naturally dips. I hear Morsk walk up behind me. All at once I realize that I may not be safe with him, and I turn, my heart beating in my chest like waves crashing in a stormy sea.
Morsk returns my gaze. His spear is at his side. His cheeks are stained by tears.
A flicker of understanding lights his eyes. “I’m not creeping up on you,” he spits. For the first time since I found Chev, I see anger in Morsk. “I only came to offer help.”
“Thank you,” I say, a note of reconciliation in my voice. “Could you help me move Chev here? I think if we lay him where the ground naturally drops down, we could cover him with branches.”
Together, Morsk and I lift Chev from the ground. I try, but fail, to look away from the pool of blood where he fell. Anger rises in me and burns my throat. I taste it in my mouth. Not just anger, but more than that. A longing for revenge.
Morsk helps me gather branches, twigs, and leaves, to camouflage my brother as best we can. It won’t make much of a difference—we can’t camouflage the scent. But it makes me feel a little better to give him some sort of burial. Each twig, each leaf, each handful of grass is another silent good-bye.
We leave his face uncovered until the end. Morsk steps away to give me some privacy, and I’m grateful. I want to make my brother one last promise before I walk away. As I drape each eye in pale green leaves, as I cover his face in moss, I whisper to him. “I will make you proud of me,” I say. “The Olen clan will not weaken. We will thrive. And you will always be remembered.”
The first few steps down the path to the beach are terrible. The next few are even worse. I force myself to keep moving, but the lack of Chev follows me like a shadow that has weight. Like a burden too heavy to carry.
It’s strange to travel over this trail with Morsk—this same trail that I traveled over alone this morning, when I was still excited about the island and the elk I thought I was tracking. We are almost to the spot where I first realized that what I thought was an elk was not an elk at all, when something—or someone—rustles in the woods to our right.
We stop, ducking into the shade of the trees that edge the path. We’re closing in on the ledges above the beach, and the breeze has picked up. It churns the leaves, masking all other sound. But there is sound within the sound—measured and even steps within the random and swirling wind.
Someone is walking nearby.
The steps grow louder, closer. I drop onto one knee, my spear shouldered, my head swiveling in every direction, waiting to see that flash of Dora’s white hair. Shadows weave between shadows, and finally I see a figure.
I loosen my grip on the spear. It’s not Dora. Not Anki. Not Thern or Pada. The girl moving toward me wears a betrothal tunic, and the sight of her face floods me with relief.
Seeri.
She walks side by side with Pek. Kol walks behind them, his steps a bit too uneven, every second step a shuffle as his left leg drags along the ground. His wounded knee. It must be causing him pain.
Seeri runs toward us, expecting to see Chev. When she notices Morsk with me instead, her steps slow. Her eyes widen as her gaze sweeps the path. “Where’s Chev?”
She drops Pek’s hand and steps toward me. I know she will see the answer on my face, so I fold my arms around her and hide my face against her shoulder. Behind her back, Kol’s eyes meet mine, and I can see that he knows why Chev isn’t here. A hollowness opens in his eyes—the same hollowness I saw there when his father died.
When I see that look in his eyes, the tears come. I sob against Seeri’s neck, but I still don’t answer her question. I don’t know if I can say the words.
“What happened?” It’s Kol, his voice. I open my eyes, but he isn’t asking me. He’s asking Morsk.
“We found him. It was already too late—”
“Too late?” Seeri asks. “You mean he’s dead? But how?” Her voice is soft—a mere whisper—but then she swallows a sob and her voice is almost a scream. “Who did it? How? Did you see? Did you see anyone?” Seeri raises her tear-soaked face and drags the backs of both hands across her eyes. “Because we did. . . . We saw two people. . . .” Her words get caught in her throat, garbled by tears.
Pek wraps an arm around her. “We saw two people who shouldn’t be here,” he says. “We went to the camp on the beach—”
“Wait.” I swing around to stare into Pek’s face, afraid of what he might be about to say. But I have to hear it. I have to know. “Who did you see?” Fear falls down on me like cold rain. It soaks into me, chilling me to the bone. “Dora?” I ask. “Anki?”
“No.” Kol answers. His eyes are still trained on Morsk, like a hunter’s eyes trained on his prey. His voice holds a question. No, not a question . . . an accusation. “We saw the other Bosha elders. Thern and Pada.”
He steps forward, and I notice the limp even more. Morsk seems to notice it too—his eyes drop to the ground near Kol’s feet, then flick back to his face. Morsk’s weight slides away, a subtle step backward. He is afraid of Kol. I can feel his fear. The ground crunches beneath his foot. His heel is coming down on the path.
“Don’t,” I say, more to Morsk, but in truth the word is meant for both of them. “Don’t step into the open—”
“Are you hoping to be seen?” Kol asks. His spear flicks up from the ground as he flexes his wrist. The point comes so close to Morsk’s cheek, it’s a wonder it doesn’t cut him. Morsk flinches, but he does as I say—he doesn’t take another step away. “Are you hoping to signal your partners? Did you lead them all here? You knew that they would find Chev here—you were the only one he told. The only one he trusted.”
Kol swallows, and I see pain in him. Not just physical pain, though that is clearly part of it. But it’s more than that. He thinks Morsk killed Chev. He thinks the man my brother trusted most betrayed him.
“And not only Chev, but all his sisters are here, too. Even Seeri, since she came with us. Did you plan with the Bosha elders to turn the Olen leaders over to them? What are you getting in return?”
“I did not lead them here! I followed! I followed so I could help. So I could warn Chev and Mya—even you. I swear it—I did not bring anyone here. Why would I—”
“Because Chev told you that you had lost, that he’d changed his mind. That you would not be betrothed to Lees . . .”