It Wakes in Me Read Online Free PDF

you would her?”
    “She also ordered me to make certain Chieftess Sora lives through this. Whenever your orders appear to endanger my chieftess I may choose to disobey you.”
    “Wonderful.” Flint ran a hand through his long black hair. “That ought to get us all killed.”
    “There is no ‘us,’ you fool. There is only me and my chieftess. You are one of them .”
    Feather Dancer caught the hot glare Flint gave him as he strode down the dune and headed for a copse of dead trees.
    Sometime in the past the trees had burned. Their blackened arms reached skyward as though pleading with the Star People for salvation. Feather Dancer untied the war ax from his belt and began chopping down the smaller trees. They were dry and old. It didn’t require much effort. What took time was dragging them back to camp. About twice his height in length, they were awkward. He could only haul two or three at a time.
    As he dragged the last saplings to the top of the dune, Flint looked up from the small fire he’d built. Two pots hung from tripods over the flames. He said, “I used your pouch of dried fish to make a stew. It’ll be hot soon.”
    “My pouch? You searched through my pack?” Feather Dancer dropped the saplings with dramatic thuds.
    “What did you expect me to do? You didn’t leave your fish
out in the open for me. I had to find it. I used the last of my venison jerky this morning.”
    Feather Dancer glowered. He had a number of things in his pack that he had not wished Flint to steal. Especially, the ceremonial celt that Matron Wink had given him. It was Chieftess Sora’s symbol of office and would unquestionably mark her as a woman of high status—in case someone questioned her identity. But it was also extremely valuable. Flint was exactly the sort of person who would steal it and sell it to the highest bidder.
    Flint stood up and gestured to the pile of saplings. “While we wait for the stew, why don’t you let me help you? I assume we’re building a makeshift fort.”
    Feather Dancer let out a disgruntled breath, but answered, “We are. Let’s lay out the logs in a square and overlap the ends until they’re waist-high.”
    A short time later, they were surrounded by a wall that would deflect most arrows and spears.
    “Can we eat now?” Flint asked. “I’m about to faint.”
    “We should feed the chieftess first. She hasn’t had anything since—”
    “She’s not the one who’s been hauling around a heavy litter all day. Sit down. I’ll feed her as soon as we finish.”
    Feather Dancer crouched before the fire, but he felt guilty about obeying. In the cool wind that blew off the lake, Chieftess Sora’s hair fluttered across her face like a dark silken web. She looked both beautiful and vulnerable. He tugged his gaze away. A strong, brave woman, she would not wish anyone to see her like this. Half the world feared her. The other half worshipped her. According to the traditions of her people, she was divine, descended directly from Black Falcon himself. He felt certain she would rather die than be in this current situation.
    Flint said, “Here. Eat,” and handed him a wooden bowl of stew in which stood a horn spoon.

    Feather Dancer took it. Spiced with dried palm berries, the fish stew had a sweet flavor that satisfied his ravenous hunger.
    Flint filled his own bowl and sank down on the opposite side of the fire. Orange light wavered over his handsome face, and Feather Dancer could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
    Around a bite of food, Flint said, “Tomorrow night we should enter the lands of the Sandhill Crane People. I pray Wink got a message to their matron telling her we would just be passing through. I don’t want to have to fight—”
    “You? Fight?” Feather Dancer grunted disbelievingly.
    Flint’s eyes narrowed. “I knew neither of us would enjoy it, but I’m endeavoring to make conversation.”
    “Well, don’t. I don’t care to hear anything you have to say.” He scooped