Tribe: The Red Hand (Tribe Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

their way down toward her, leaping over boulders and fallen trees. She had seconds before they were upon her.
    When rough fingers caught hold of her shoulder and dug savagely into the gouges there, Kestrel’s thoughts ceased. Shrieking like a demon, she clamped both hands around the arm dragging her up off the ground, twisted her head around, and sank her teeth into her captor’s wrist.
    “Damn it all, Kes! Stop that!” The voice was as rough as the hand that held her, but she knew it well.
    “Aiden? Why are you here?”
    “Get to the stream,” her brother ordered, his flat voice eerily calm.
    Kestrel feared a nightmare had caught her in its clutches. None of this made sense. Aiden could not be here. “W-what?” she stammered.
    Once Aiden had her on her feet, he shoved her away, and moved a few steps up the slope. The men who had pursued her were still clambering near, oblivious of the newcomer.
    Maybe they don’t see him , Kestrel thought, because he isn’t really here.
    “Go, Kes. Now! ” The last word came out as an uncompromising roar, shattering her bewilderment.
    The men scrambling down the mountainside skidded to a stop as one. Kestrel backed away, her eyes wide, even as her brother moved forward. He was no longer paying attention to her.
    “Who’s that?” one of the men asked.
    Aiden did not answer. Lightning flashed, and she saw her brother holding a knife in each hand, each nearly a foot longer than the one she had lost.
    “Two young Red Hands, is my guess,” said another man, chuckling as if at a fine joke.
    “Our lucky day.”
    “No need to fear,” another voice called, sounding reasonable. “We come as friends.”
    Kestrel almost laughed at such a ludicrous idea, but even if she had, no one would have heard it, for her brother was already moving, his blades flashing dully in the night.
    Two men had fallen dead, and a third had dropped his spear to clutch at the slithering skein of intestines pouring from his severed belly, before the others could react. By then, Aiden had settled deep within their broken line, roaring and killing. The survivors slashed the air where Aiden had been with their spears. He spun through them, a whirlwind of death.
    Steel rang against wood and flesh and bone.
    Another man went down, the blood spraying from his neck blacker than the night. Another followed, the stump of his arm spurting, and a gut-wrenching gurgling sound bursting from his throat.
    Kestrel backed away from the furious fight, but more she retreated from her brother’s rage. It was not the first time she had seen him furious, but she had never seen his wrath displayed so openly.
    Another man fell amongst his writhing companions, but he lay as unmoving as the dead wood littering the stony ground.
    The last man held his spear out before him to block another attack. “There’s no need for this! I’m your friend!” he cried, as if he really believed the lie. Lightning painted his terror-stretched features silver and black.
    In that brief light, Kestrel also saw Aiden, his clean-shaved face spattered and running with crimson gore, his pale eyes burning with the same eerie fire that had lit the lion’s eyes.
    When darkness fell again, she saw only blurs of movement. Steel sang a high shrill note, wood crunched, and the last man loosed a frightened screech. When the steel sang again, his last shout echoed away into the storm.
    Only seven , Kestrel thought, counting the dead. There had been eight coming down the mountain, and another at the edge of the forest.
    “There are others!” she blurted, looking wildly about in the dark.
    Her brother’s silhouette turned slowly, his dripping blades held out to either side. “Why are you still here?” His voice was cold, uncompromising.
    “There are more,” she insisted.
    “I’ll worry about them. Now go, as I commanded you.”
    “I must find the lion skin,” Kestrel murmured. “I need it to … to prove my Kill.” After seeing what Aiden had done,