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Feather. A horrible plague had come into the land. Some said the wandering Blens brought it, and so the survivors hated the Blens. After many people of Elgin died, leaving the kingdom weak, King Ezander himself had succumbed to the sickness. And in that time of vulnerability, Elgin was attacked by a strong army from the west. Ezander’s young son, Linden, barely come to manhood, had resisted and been slain in battle. The old castle was occupied for a time by the enemy, but they had not stayed long either. The plague broke out again, and the castle and town around it were abandoned. So said Alomar. Karsh believed him.
    Since those vague, early memories of wandering, cold and hungry, with Feather until the Woban hunters found them, Karsh’s only knowledge of the past came through Alomar. What the elder had learned from his father, Womar, and what Womar had learned from his father, Wobert, was now the heritage of their tribe. The old names were revered, and the tragic nobility of Ezander, Linden, and their followers was honored. But there was no king in Elgin now nor any hope of a true heir to the throne. Wobert had gathered the people left alive in his village and led them to a safer place, and the people had learned to govern themselves in small bands.
    Now they all said good night to the elders and went to their shelters to sleep. Hunter walked beside Karsh when they left the council circle. “You mustn’t throw yourself against an elder like that.” His expression was troubled in the moonlight, but not unkind.
    “I know,” Karsh said, “and I’m sorry. Should I tell Rand I am sorry?”
    Hunter sighed. “Rand lost his family many years ago when his village was raided. He is angry to see a member of our tribe lost in this way. Don’t let his manner fool you. He cares about Feather. He cares about all our people, even you. He is a cautious man now, but sensible. And he is right. If we are not going to run away from the Blens, we need to be ready to hide our young ones while we men fight.”
    Karsh wondered if Hunter was including him in the men of the tribe. He decided not. So far he was always considered one of the children. Perhaps this year he would be allowed to go with the men on the fall hunt. He had been practicing all summer with a bow and a sling, and he was becoming a fair shot. He had killed two squirrels with the bow.
    They reached the brush shelter Karsh shared with the single men during summer. Hunter left him and turned back toward the fire pit. Karsh ducked through the doorway. Jem and Bente were there already, settling down to sleep.
    “Don’t let Rand upset you,” Jem said. “He is getting old and can’t hunt any longer. His bones hurt him too. That makes him cross.”
    Bente laughed at his father’s words, but Karsh was not comforted. He lay in the darkness on top of his elk hide robe, peering out the opening. He could see a few stars above the hills. Could Feather see them too?
    She was his sister. He knew it in his heart even if no one could prove it. And if no one else would go after her, he would. It was his job as her brother. In the darkness, he made a vow. If it took the rest of his life, he would find her and bring her back.

Chapter Three

    Feather was quick to learn to avoid blows. She was kicked awake in the morning, then prodded about the Blens’ camp, yelled at, ordered to do chores, and struck twice for being too
    slow. After that she stayed away from the people whose faces wore the angriest expressions, and she dodged quickly whenever she saw an upraised hand. She discovered early that her knife was gone from her pouch though the paper Karsh had found was still there.
    She fetched water from the stream and firewood from the edge of the nearby forest. She would have considered diving into the woods and losing herself, but she was tied to a foul-tempered Blen woman by a ten-foot cord while fetching the fuel. That made it harder to duck blows, but the woman tried to hit her only