A Girl Called Badger (Valley of the Sleeping Birds) Read Online Free PDF Page A

and brown shape leaped into the first and pushed it to the ground, startling the bob-white. With a flash of white-patched wings it flew toward the stream. A few seconds later the small shape moved back into the trees.
    The seed-heavy grass bent with the breeze and a drop of rain rolled down the back of Wilson’s neck. He wondered if Badger needed help when the grass parted and she appeared. With a hand covered in blood she slid up the hunting mask.
    “Three around a fire,” she said.
    “Are you hurt?”
    Badger shook her head and reclaimed her crossbow. She stuck a foot in the rope stirrup, pulled hard on the reloading strap with both hands, and placed a bolt in the track. Wilson adjusted his hunting mask and followed her through the field and into the forest.
    Three men in yellow buckskin squatted around a campfire. Their heads were shaved except for a long topknot. A black tattoo of three entwined circles marked their faces like a spiral of thorns.
    A few words about a girl in the tribal dialect made Wilson flush behind his mask. Smoked curled from the speaker’s corn pipe and he laughed with a high-pitched chitter. The man nearest Badger held a water skin and the face of the last tribal had been terribly burned in the past.
    Wilson bit his lower lip as a girl sat up from a pile of furs and asked something in the dialect. A nasty bruise turned one eye purple and her red-blonde hair was badly tangled. Drinker and Scarface cursed the girl and Corn Pipe threw a stick. Wilson thought about these animals murdering his father. He jerked up his crossbow and aimed through the sights.
    The trigger release clicked on Badger’s crossbow. A bolt with black-and-white fletching smacked through the drinking skin and into Drinker’s chest.
    Scarface turned his head and stared into the darkness for half a second, before Wilson shot him in the neck. The metal-pointed bolt ripped through the man’s neck with a spray of blood.
    The girl screamed. Corn Pipe let his namesake tumble through his fingers as his comrades twisted on the ground. A pair of demonic faces rose from the tall grass at the edge of the firelight. The desperate tribal fumbled with a holster on his belt.
    Wilson threw the knife in his left hand, barely missing Corn Pipe’s head, and sprinted toward the tribal.
    The frantic Corn Pipe drew a long-barreled pistol but a bolt from Badger whacked into his bicep. The tribal dropped the weapon as Wilson slammed into his soft midsection.
    Both flew into the brush. Wilson thrust his knife into the man’s ribcage, pulled it out, and stabbed again and again.
    “I think he’s dead,” said Badger, a minute later.
    Wilson stood up. Blood covered his hands and his heart pounded. His fingers shook as he cleaned his knife on the dead man’s trousers.
    The girl whimpered under the lean-to. A white-fletched bolt stuck from her left bicep. Wilson came closer and she screamed. He pulled off his hunting mask and held his hands out.
    “No hurt you! Help.”
    Wilson realized the bolt in her arm had come from his crossbow. He rummaged through the belongings of the dead tribals while Badger looted the bodies. In a leather bag he found a pair of hand-cutters and cloth for a bandage.
    “Don’t move.”
    He used the cutters to snap the wooden shaft then wrapped the girl’s arm tightly. Her hands were bound with rope and Wilson carefully cut through the hemp fibers. She wore a ripped, red-patterned dress that looked too flimsy even for summer. Wilson draped a blanket around her shoulders.
    Badger hissed in pain. Wilson turned to see her grappling with Drinker on the ground. She knocked away Drinker’s hands and sliced him across the throat. When she stood up Wilson saw a blade sticking from the palm of her left hand.
    “What happened?”
    He touched her arm but Badger stepped away. Blood dripped from her fingers.
    “It’s nothing. I got careless.”
    He reached for her wrist and this time she didn’t pull back. The sharp point stuck