Attawondaronk: The Reckoning

By J. R. Montgomery

Tado tossed the dead warrior into the pit and whirled on Poutassa. A mind-numbing explosion shook the hilltop, enveloping Ontarra, Poutassa, and Tado in a billowing cloud of gray smoke.

The fighting halted as wind swirled the smoke away. Ontarra and Poutassa were flat on their backs. Poutassa pushed up onto his elbows, wild eyes staring at

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Sep 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643452166

J. R. Montgomery

J.R. Montgomery grew up on a small farm in Southern Ontario, where as a young boy he discovered three archaic graves and several artifacts in a walnut grove.He still resides in Southern Ontario where he owns and operates a chain of fast lube shops. He has extensively studied the first Nations Peoples and known archeological sites brought to life in Attawondaronk, his first trilogy.Knowing that many people were watching him, Ontarra answered the questioning look with a barely perceptible dip of his chin. The rockwood ball struck above Toutzak's right ear, shattering his skull. Toutzak's arm buckled, and he fell on his side, blood spilling from his ear. The crowd was silent-shocked not only that Ontadaroh had won, but also that he had killed his brother when asked to be merciful. Ontarra walked to the middle of the plaza and raised his arms. "Because of this outcome, as your Sachem, I announce that Ontadaroh is now Head Sachem of the Warrior Elite." He turned on a heel and headed back to his longhouse. A Clan Mother, arms folded, stepped in front of him. "I saw that-you told him to kill him."

Book preview

Main Characters and Towns

Ontarra: Main character; Attawondaronk Land Clan. Together with his new ally, Tadodaroh, they devise a scheme to rescue Ontarra’s wife and sister who have been abducted by warriors from a distant nation.

Sounia: Ontarra’s wife. Land Clan. Whom Ontarra is determined to get back.

Taiwa: Ontarra’s sister. Land Clan. Taiwa was kidnapped at the same time as Sounia.

Poutassa: Bird Clan. Considers himself a shaman,, although his abilities are highly doubtful. He has devised a scheme to cause a clan war between the Bird Clans and Land Clans of the Attawondaronk Nation. This devious plan is the cause of Ontarra’s, and the Attawondaronk troubles.

Tadodaroh: Onondaga warrior, who has learned many new ways to fight which were previously unseen by the native peoples. He is highly dangerous, and has become Ontarra’s ally.

Taskinao: Land Clan warrior of the Attawondaronks. Along with Toutsou, he is instrumental in the fight against the Bird Clans.

Toutsou; When Ontarra and his family disappear Toutsou becomes war leader of the Attawondaronk Land Clans in their fight against the Bird Clans and their old enemy, the Agwa (Potawatomi)

Outsiders (Tunicans)

Manak: Tunican warrior, who along with two of his people disguised as traders have travelled to the Attawondaronk Nation to obtain their powerful tobacco known as Petun. Ahe and his cohorts decide to abduct Sounia and Taiwa and take them to their town of Quiquiz on the banks of the "Father Water, (present day Mississippi River)

Mox: Brutish—not very bright, Tunican warrior, accompanying Manak.

Matoupa; Tunican member of the elite class, also accompanying Manak under the guise of a trader.

Becar: War leader of the Tunican "Stinkard class warriors. He remains at Quizquiz awaiting Manak,s return.

Fanacia: Self-appointed queen of the Tunicans. She is awaiting Manaks return.

Sennikae

Kadai: War chief at Joneadih

Wasakah: Chief of Chiefs at Joneadih

Togo: False Face of the Sennikae. Adopted Shanoka (Ontarra’s mother) when she was a child. Ontarra consider’s Togo to be his grandfather.

Scadjawena: Daughter of previous Chief of Chiefs at Joneadih. She is overweight and rather uncomely. She was gifted to Ontarra to get her married off. Although she is in lust for Ontarra – he wants nothing to do with her.

Fire Nation (Potawatomi)

Kadona: Chief of the Fire Nation’s principal town, Poksgon.

Tonqua: Son of Kadona—leader of the young warriors fighting against the Attawondaronks.

Weego: Elderly Oneida warrior, who through happenstance learned an unusual fighting method. This fortuitous insight from his youth inspired him to spend his life devising other unusual fighting methods. He is a good friend of Tadodaroh who he once trained.

Towns

Joneadih: Chief Town of the Sennikae Nation—located near present day Salamanca New York.

Pokagon: Chief Town of the Potawatomi—located forty miles east of Lake Michigan.

Watkins Glenn: The old Oneida warrior has built his retirement camp just south of this town in present day upstate New York.

City Of The Ancients: Cahokia—a city that once was home to 250,000 souls. Located to the northeast, across the Mississippi River from present day Saint Louis Missouri; Cahokia was abandoned approximately 1200AD, leaving only its massive temple mounds to tell of its existence.

Quizquiz: Chief Town of the Tunican Nation—located near present day Tunica Mississippi.

Battle in the boulders: Devils Den and little Round Top; located on the present day battlefield at Gettysburg Pennsylvania.

Camp below the cliff: Located above the Susquehanna River. This is present day Hyner Pennsylvania.

1

Ontarra stared in despair at the vague outlines of three canoes that held his wife and sister. The images grew wavery in the gray murk of the western horizon, and they were gone. Ontarra hung his head. He’d lost everything. His last hope of catching the outsiders and freeing the girls was ended in tragedy.

His arms fell limp at his sides; his feet seemed to root themselves in the sand. He twisted around, swinging defeated eyes across the hollow of the dune behind him, surveying the carnage.

Togo was working desperately to staunch the flow of blood around the chert blade in Tadodaroh’s thigh. Ontarra counted eight Eerieehronon bodies along the banks of sand and down in the trough of the dunes. His eyes settled on Shonennkeri. He forced his feet to move. Slogging over to the lifeless form, he perched on his heels and laid a hand on the Onondaga’s chest. Shonennkeri’s head was smashed to a bloody pulp by the big outsider’s stone maul. I’m sorry, my friend…This has all been my fault.

With a heavy heart, Ontarra splashed down the backside of the dune, cascading sand with every elongated stride. Tadodaroh was propped on an elbow, staring up at his brother’s corpse at the top of the dune. Togo was squeezing the juice of a milkweed around the blade in Tado’s leg to coagulate the oozing blood. Togo glanced up at Ontarra as he approached. He was trying to appear calm, but his eyes were frantic. We have to move before more of them come.

Ontarra studied the lifeless hulks scattered around the dune and shook his head. It was a trap. If there were more, they’d be here by now. These ones won’t be missed until dark. Ontarra ran a weary hand over his face. That scum Dekari would have killed the skinheads for us if we’d only known. He glanced at the dune behind him. Dekari was tied to a tree on the other side. I’m going to go finish him.

Ontarra took a step, but Togo grabbed his arm. The paper wasps have beaten you to it.

Ontarra shot a puzzled look, and then remembered the wasp nest in the tree. Those screams that we heard—that was Dekari? The grimace on Togo’s face told the story. A wry grin wrinkled Ontarra’s eyes but didn’t reach his lips. A fitting reward for all his efforts, I’d say. Ontarra bent down, studied Tadodaroh’s wound, and then looked into the Onondaga’s eyes. We can’t stay out here in the open. I’m going to have to carry you into the forest.

Tadodaroh grimaced and nodded.

Ontarra grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him over his shoulder. Two arrow flights into the brush, he dropped to his knees and leaned Tadodaroh against a tree. Tado made no sound, but his teeth were clamped tight.

Togo flopped down beside Tado with an exhausted sigh. We can’t take that blade out of his leg until we are prepared to cauterize the wound. If it’s not cauterized immediately, he’ll bleed to death.

Ontarra stared back toward the lake. If we only had some canoes. He chewed on his lower lip and turned back to Togo. We’ll have to go to Dekari’s lodge. It’s our only hope. Ontarra folded Tadodaroh over his shoulder. He moaned as Ontarra lifted. When they reached the rear of Dekari’s lodge, Tadodaroh’s breathing had become ragged and shallow.

Ontarra scanned the area and then ducked inside, his club in his hands in case there were any more surprises. He stuck his head out and jerked his chin to Togo. Togo slipped in and dug under the sleep platforms, finding some rabbit skins that he immediately started slicing into strips.

Ontarra carried Tadodaroh inside, easing him down onto the sleep platform.

Get a fire going, Togo said in a hushed voice. We have to work fast.

Togo tossed open wicker baskets and bags on the walls, trying to find something he could use to sear the wound. He found a Thunderbird pendant and bit down on it. Copper. He nodded. Give me your dagger, Tado. Togo sliced away Tadodaroh’s legging until the thigh was fully exposed. He laid the Thunderbird next to the wound and bobbed his head.

Do it, Tadodaroh hissed.

Togo set the Thunderbird on the coals then rolled a strip of hide into a plug and handed it to Tado. Tado rocked it into his mouth, set his jaw, and gripped the support rails of the platform. Togo nodded to Ontarra as he wrapped a swath of hide around his fingers. Ontarra yanked the blade from Tadodaroh’s thigh, and a spray of blood hit the wall. Togo turned and pressed the Thunderbird into the wound. It sizzled and spat, the nauseating smell of burnt flesh and blood filling the lodge. Tadodaroh’s muscles turned to rock as all of his instincts screamed to escape the searing agony in his leg. His whole body started to shake as he fought against the scream in his head.

The Thunderbird was embedded in flesh. Togo gently rocked it loose and set it aside. Tadodaroh lungs voided in a rush. He quivered and passed out. Ontarra’s stomach was rolling. He pried the hide from Tadodaroh’s mouth to let him breath, then plodded outside and retched. Togo followed him out.

How are we going to get him out of here? Togo asked in a worried tone. We can’t move fast enough if we have to carry him. He stared at the Eerieehronon village across the lake. They’ll be tracking us by morning.

Ontarra got to his feet, propping his hands on his knees while he waited for the nausea to pass. There’s a canoe down at the lake. He cleared the last of the bile from his throat, spat, and straightened up, staring down the length of Cha-ta-kwa. We can go to the other end after dark—put some distance between us and that town.

Togo rubbed his chin, picturing where the other end of the lake was. I have never been that route. The south end of Cha-ta-kwa is slightly closer to the Alhegalena, but the trails are tangled and overgrown.

Ontarra glanced at the Sun, a hand span above the western horizon. We have no other choice. Let’s see what the trader had that can be of use. Ontarra ducked inside and scanned the walls. The spears and arrows drew his attention. Most were too large to be used. Ontarra pulled down four that would fit his bow.

Togo rummaged beneath the sleep platforms, discarding useless objects and stuffing the occasional item into a carry bag. Ontarra found a basket of dried fish and tossed several to Togo.

By the time they finished ransacking Dekari’s lodge, it looked like a bear had been through it. Ontarra stepped over to the door to peek out. The town was still visible in the fleeting light. People were gathering in the plaza. A search for the missing men was about to begin. I’m going to go back and bury Shonennkeri, Ontarra said softly, dropping the door skin back. He turned to lock eyes with Togo. If anyone comes, you’ll have to kill them.

Togo shifted his gaze to the bed of coals. I have no qualms about that. He glanced over at Tado. A fever was already breaking into beads of sweat. It is an honor for an Onondaga warrior to be buried near the place he falls in battle. Bury him at the base of the dune with his head to the west, so he can see the sunrises. The dune will soon shift and hide him forever.

Ontarra drew a long breath, turned, and ducked out. Togo unfolded upright and looked at the wall behind him. He selected a stone-tipped spear, sat down beside Tadodaroh, and laid it across his knees.

When Ontarra returned, the moon was squinting over the treetops. Togo…it’s me, he warned before stepping inside. Togo had rigged up a burden carrier from two rafter poles and some skins. They lowered Tado onto it. Ontarra tied his bow and arrows into a bundle and slung them over his back. Stepping softly to the door, he scanned the area one last time and saw a movement on the hillside. Cocking an ear, he heard voices approaching. Douse the fire! Someone’s coming!

Togo swung his eyes around the lodge. There was no liquid of any kind. He grabbed a sleep robe and tossed it over the hearth, pulled a spear off the wall, and slipped over to the door beside Ontarra. Two silhouettes came bobbing up the hill. Togo squinted, Oh no. He slumped against the doorframe. It’s the two females that were here at dawn. I can’t kill women.

Ontarra sighed and stuffed his club back into his waistband. Wait until they come inside. Grab the short one and keep her quiet. I’ll get the other.

The girls stopped outside, requesting permission to enter. There was a muted conversation when no reply came. Ontarra held his breath, melting up against the wall. A head poked in. The lodge was pitch-black. The girl slowly stepped inside. Sensing danger, she spun around to leave. Togo grabbed her. Ontarra sprang through the door after the other. She screamed and turned to run, but Ontarra was on her in two strides. He clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her, kicking and clawing, into the lodge.

Togo was having his share of trouble too. His charge had already bitten him three times. He was lying on top of her, pinning her to the floor while she twisted and squirmed to get free. Ahh! Togo yanked his thumb from between her teeth. A shrill scream rattled the lodge before he could get his hand over her mouth again. The one who Ontarra was holding stomped on his foot, got her hand into his hair, and yanked. The sleep robe on the hearth flared up, and the lodge filled with smoke.

Togo’s adversary squirmed onto her back, and her knee found his groin. Togo groaned, and she flipped him over. Straddling him, she began to pummel his face. Ontarra couldn’t get his head up, so he wrapped a leg behind the woman’s ankles and threw his weight. They toppled onto the girl and Togo. The four lay in a heap of thrashing arms and legs.

Ontarra yanked his dagger and held it to the older one’s throat. Her eyes widened. She stopped struggling as she felt the chert point. Glouscap! These two fight like she-bear’s with cubs! Tell them to be quiet, or I’ll kill them right now!

Togo growled a few words, and the girls froze.

Ontarra stared with disgust at a clump of his hair in the woman’s fist. Get something to tie them with.

Togo wriggled out from the bottom of the pile, muttering epithets under his breath. Ontarra heard the word heathens and something about women with scrotums between their legs. He yanked the sleep robe off the fire as he crawled past, using it to light up the discard heap along the back wall. I saw some tethers in here somewhere, he mumbled. I’ll tie those vixens into cocoons.

With the girls tied and gagged, Ontarra and Togo checked their wounds. Ontarra’s head was bleeding where he’d developed an instant bald spot. One of Togo’s thumbs was gnashed to the bone.

Ontarra went to the door and peered out. It’s a good thing that town is so far away.

I was wrong, Togo grumbled, wrapping a swath around his thumb. We should have just killed them. What are we going to do with them now?

Ontarra had to chuckle at the ludicrous situation. He’d killed three of their warriors today and escaped unscathed. Now these two girls had nearly done them in. Tell them we aren’t going to kill them unless they try to give us away.

Togo translated Ontarra’s words in a bitter tone that got their attention.

Ask them if they brought a canoe. The woman nodded as if she understood. Ontarra knelt down nose to nose. You are going to help us carry our friend out of here. If you behave, we’ll free you in two days.

The woman shifted her gaze to Tadodaroh then back to Ontarra and bobbed her head.

Ontarra tied their hands to the left pole of the burden carrier. Ontarra and Togo took the right side, leaving their right hands free to hold knives, ready to silence the pair if they made any sound.

A three-quarter moon illuminated the landscape. The lake gleamed in a shimmering half-light. Tadodaroh took up most of one canoe. Ontarra settled Togo into the back of it and shoved him off. He made the girls lie facedown on the floor of his canoe, pushed out, and hopped into the back.

The lake is too bright, Ontarra whispered as he pulled alongside Togo. We’ll have to follow the eastern shoreline and stay in the shadow of the trees. In a hand of time, they were abreast of the town on the far shore. Torches bobbed along the path north of the town. Babbling voices carried across the water. Women started to wail; angry men shouted orders.

They’re bringing the bodies in, Ontarra said softly. The woman popped her head up to look over the rail. Ontarra poked an arrow in her back, and she lowered back down.

They approached the point near the center of the lake. Four canoes shot out from behind it, slicing toward the town. Basket torches on their bows cast an eerie glow across the water, revealing two more elm bark canoes huddled up against a half-submerged boulder to Ontarra’s right. The fishermen were in a quandary over the commotion across the lake and didn’t notice the two silhouettes sliding through the shadows behind them.

Do you think there might be more? Togo whispered.

Ontarra gave his head a negative shake, released the tension on his bow, and set it aside. No one could stay out fishing with those women caterwauling like that.

The moon was nearing its highest point when they hit the shallow marsh spanning the southern tip of Cha-ta-kwa. Coontail and rushes were so thick the canoes couldn’t penetrate. Ontarra slid out into waist-deep water and knee-deep muck, smashing his way through the jungle of stalks until he reached solid ground, then went back to haul the other canoes up the channel. With everyone safely on shore, he pulled the canoes back down into the reeds and smashed out their bottoms with his club.

The girl started to struggle as her hands were being tied to the pole of the burden carrier. Ontarra’s dagger pressed against her throat to calm her. The going was slow through the thick brush and saplings bordering the lake. When they reached mature forest, the landscape began to open up. Massive trees and a towering canopy blocked out so much of the light that nothing but a layer of thick moss could flourish. They found a rocky trail meandering eastward, following it until darkness began to soften with the coming of day.

Tell them we’re stopping to rest, Ontarra instructed, slowly settling Tadodaroh to the ground. He scanned the forest and noticed a moss-shrouded boulder pile off to the left. Ontarra’s gaze shifted to the females, and his mouth sagged open. For the first time, he could make out their features. Their faces were covered in horrid green, blue, and red tattoos. Dots and whorls spiraled out from their eyes to their ears. Straggles of matted hair fell across their shoulders in stringy clumps, clinging to the sweat on their skin. Unadulterated loathing burned in the older one’s eyes.

Ontarra looked away, staring back in the direction they’d come. We left a trail at the lake that a blind man could follow, he said softly.

Yes, Togo agreed, but they’ll be looking for us around Iannaoa first. With luck, they won’t find our spoor until tonight or tomorrow.

We’ll go over to those boulders and hide until dusk. Ontarra looked at the females again. He stepped across Tado, untied the gag, and tugged it from the woman’s mouth. She let loose with a string of obscenities that could have wilted the leaves off stinking cabbage. Ontarra shoved the gag back, cinching it tight with total disgust. I’m glad I wasn’t born Gahkwa, he muttered, rocking his head back and forth.

They like their women tough. Togo scowled. It makes them less desirable to raiders.

They carried Tadodaroh up to the boulder pile. Ontarra glanced back at the tracks they were leaving in the mossy carpet of the forest floor. To his surprise, the moss sprang right back to its original shape. Only the most skilled tracker could follow sign in this forest. There was enough room among the boulders to lay Tado out of sight.

Ontarra tied the girls together in a crevice near Tado’s head, so their only way out was to crawl over him. Ontarra and Togo settled down at the opening where they could keep an eye on the forest and the girls at the same time.

How long since you’ve slept? Togo asked, tossing a fillet of dried fish to Ontarra, purposely ignoring the women.

Two nights ago, Ontarra answered wearily, tearing off a chunk of meat too large to fit in his mouth, chewing methodically until it disappeared.

I slept a bit last night, Togo mumbled through the meat. I’ll keep a watch until the Sun is high and wake you.

Ontarra glanced over at the girls lying against each other, already sound asleep. He dipped his chin in agreement and settled back against a moss-encrusted boulder.

Ontarra sensed something was wrong before he opened his eyes. His knife flew out, slashing a blind arc in front of him. Ontarra had become a man you awoke from a safe distance. Togo was sprawled on his side in a bed of moss, snoring peacefully. Ontarra’s head snapped right. The girls were gone. Tadodaroh was rolled facedown. The prisoner cords lay in a tangle near his head. Ontarra tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind, and a memory flashed. He pressed a hand between Tadodaroh’s shoulder blades. The dagger he kept sheathed beneath his tunic was gone.

Ontarra sat back on his heels, exhaling a loud sigh. Togo jarred awake, looking over at Ontarra’s grim stare as he sat up. Then he saw that the girls had escaped. Ohh! Togo ran his hands down his face. I fell asleep.

Ontarra couldn’t say much; he might have done the same himself. Straightening, he peered over a boulder through the perpetual twilight of the forest. They’re long gone, he muttered, settling back. He grabbed the sleeve of Tadodaroh’s tunic and rolled him onto the burden carrier. Tadodaroh moaned, called out a woman’s name, and then fell silent again.

He’s on the path to the next reality, Togo said softly, pressing a palm to Tadodaroh’s forehead. The hotter his skin gets, the less likely he will return.

His Spirit is strong, Ontarra said, absently picking up the prisoner cords and studying the cuts. He will survive—if we survive. He twisted around, scanning the forest again. They played us for fools, only pretending to be asleep. They’ll be back with warriors before dark.

I’m sorry. Togo stared at the ground. We’ll never get out now.

Ontarra tossed the cords. Well…we’re going to try. He climbed to his feet and slung his weapons over his back. Let’s get moving. We have to try to keep ahead of them. If we stay off the trails and walk in the moss, it will swallow our tracks as fast as we make them.

Togo stuffed the cords in his pack, slid it over his head, and grabbed the poles of the burden carrier.

They tried to move at a trot, but Togo wasn’t up to it. As they plodded along, Tadodaroh started talking with someone that only he could see. The sound of his voice seemed deafening. Ontarra started checking their back trail nervously. When the Sun was halfway through its descent, Togo’s feet began to falter. At the top of a rise, Ontarra agreed to a rest stop. They threaded into the center of a stand of rock wood to conceal themselves.

Tadodaroh shouted from his delirium as they set him down. We’re going to have to gag him, Ontarra said somberly, wondering how far behind the Gahkwas might be. He recalled his own experience tracking the outsiders through the hinterlands, and an idea came to him. He scanned the clump of saplings they were hiding in and snapped one off. Togo wrapped a swath over Tadodaroh’s mouth, tying it behind his neck. Give me the prisoner cords, Ontarra said, studying the area thoughtfully. He pulled a few tufts of moss up, leaving them noticeably disturbed. He waddled a stone cast farther into the stand and found a sapling that was just the right size.

Pulling his dagger, he tied it into the crotch of the first two branches and tied his thumb-sized branch to the end of the cord. Looping the cord around the base of the closest tree, he pulled the sapling down flat, careful to keep the tension on the cord, and then braced the branch across two trunks. He then hid everything under a scattering of moss.

What are you doing? Togo frowned.

They’ll be following us fast. There’s no way we can keep ahead of them. Ontarra perched on his haunches, studying the ground. Satisfied that his changes were hidden, he slid his weapons around to his chest and peeled away a chunk of hawk feather fletching from an arrow shaft. He pressed it into the moss just beyond the branch wedged against the saplings. If nothing else, this will make them follow us more cautiously.

What are we going to do when they catch up? Togo wondered out loud.

Their eyes held each other for an instant over Tadodaroh’s limp form. You said it yourself. Ontarra reached around his back and tossed his skinning knife to Togo. We die game.

Hmph! Togo rolled his eyes skyward, a look of resignation on his face. I said that? With only one bow and four arrows, I suspect we will die game fairly quickly.

Ontarra pressed his lips together and shrugged. When they show…cut Tado’s throat. I’ll save one arrow for you, and I promise that I’ll drop a few with my club before I go down.

Togo raised a brow, wondering if he should thank Ontarra for his kind consideration. He just couldn’t seem to find the right words to express his feelings.

Come on. Ontarra lifted one end of the burden carrier. Let’s keep moving.

Their progress was slowed even more as the forest floor started to rise and fall. The muscles in Togo’s legs ached with every step up the slopes, and then he had trouble keeping his feet under him going down. In a ravine between two steep hills, Ontarra stopped to let Togo catch his breath. I can’t keep on much longer. Togo winced, rubbing the knot from a calf muscle.

Ontarra surveyed the hills on each side of them, turned, and stared down the long ravine, considering their predicament. Let’s go north down the ravine. They won’t be expecting that. And it’s downhill—at least for a while. From the depths of the forest to their rear, there was a long agonized scream. The forest fell silent again. Ontarra and Togo locked eyes.

Togo’s energy suddenly returned. He lurched to his feet and lifted one end of the burden carrier. Ontarra had to move fast to keep Tadodaroh from sliding out. Come on—let’s go! Togo urged.

The ravine took them down several arrow flights before leveling off into an impenetrable marsh flat. Togo rested while Ontarra stepped out into the spear grass to study their surroundings. A flock of ducks burst into the air, their raucous cries alerting everything in the area of his presence. Ontarra hustled back into the brush, cursing his stupidity. We have to go around this—stay in the cover of the forest.

They headed east again, their progress painfully slow. Togo was starting to limp, groaning occasionally when pain shot up his leg. Ontarra stopped long enough to string his bow and hang his four arrows in front of him. His head swung constantly, eyes searching the forest in the direction he expected the attack to come from. Their luck held out until dusk. The land gradually rose again as the marsh retreated behind them.

Ontarra came to an abrupt halt. He lowered the burden carrier to the ground, holding his hand up in a command for silence as he settled to his knees.

Togo crept up beside him. What is it? Togo’s voice was hoarse with tension.

Ontarra pointed down a shallow slope. Togo strained his eyes and saw the distinct flickering of hearth fires in the distance. Ontarra scanned the forest ahead, tapped Togo on the shoulder, and pointed up the slope away from the camp. Togo nodded. They carried Tado up into a pile of fallen timber, laying twigs and branches over him to conceal his presence, then leaned and checked Tado’s breathing.

I’m going to go down and see what we’re dealing with, Ontarra whispered. He twisted around, getting a last look at the hillside above in the fading light, handing the bow and arrows to Togo. If the ones that are tracking us show up, try to make every arrow count.

Togo’s lips pinched, and he dipped his chin. Ontarra turned and headed down.

Tadodaroh started to moan, calling to someone named Tonata. Not now. Togo clamped a hand over his mouth and dug in his carry pouch for a swath. Rolling the strip of skin into a ball, he stuffed it into Tado’s mouth and held an ear to Tado’s nostrils to be certain he was still able to breathe. Sorry, Tado.

Togo heard an almost imperceptible rustle behind him. He reached his arm out for the bow. A strong hand clamped his wrist as Ontarra settled to his knees beside him.

Togo’s lungs deflated.

Good thing you were a trader, Ontarra whispered. You wouldn’t have lasted long as a warrior. I counted two hands of men down there. He jerked his chin in the direction of the camp. We passed them coming in. Tadodaroh killed one of their sentries.

What are they doing?

Ontarra shrugged. They’re digging holes in the sides of a ravine. It looks like they’ve been here a long time.

Togo nodded. Sounds like they’ve found salt.

Ontarra wondered briefly what salt was, shrugged it off, and scanned up above again. I don’t care what they’re doing…as long as they’re not looking for us. The ones behind us can’t be very far off. We’ve got to keep moving.

They slipped through the settling twilight, crossing directly above the salt dig, moving at a snail’s pace in total silence—mortal enemies above and below. An idea started to form in the back of Ontarra’s mind. The trail we came here on should be just off to our left, he whispered. Head that way. They hit the trail at the exact spot where Togo had left three slashes on a tree. Go over behind those rocks. Ontarra tipped his head. Togo nodded as he recognized the place.

They lowered Tadodaroh down. Togo slid onto his rump, lying back against a boulder in exhaustion. Ontarra hung the bow over his neck and untied his arrows. I’ve got an idea that might buy us some time, he said softly, sneaking a peek out over the boulders then crouching on his heels in front of Togo. If I don’t come back by the time the moon appears, kill Tadodaroh and save yourself.

Togo’s face stiffened, and he grabbed Ontarra’s arm. Is there anything I can do to help?

Ontarra sucked a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Pray, Togo…to anyone that can help. Ontarra disappeared into the deepening shadows.

He retraced their steps until he was above the salt dig again. The hillside was utter darkness. He moved from tree to tree, hoping that he could find the pile of fallen timber again. He stumbled into it before he saw it.

Ontarra wriggled down into the center. Propping three arrows against a log in front, he nocked the fourth. He could see three sentries on the fringes of the firelight around the camp. They were being very cautious, having lost a man to unknown causes. The camp was a bubble of light in a sea of darkness. Visibility up the hill was less than a few canoe lengths. This might not work. He settled down to wait.

Without warning, the shadow of a warrior appeared an arm’s length to his left. Ontarra hunched down into the branches. The man studied the camp, twisted and made some hand gestures. Ontarra slowly shifted his eyes…another warrior was standing right beside him. He froze, afraid to even breathe. The men talked with their hands over Ontarra’s head, nodded, and moved on. Ontarra parted his lips, emptying his lungs in a controlled rush.

The two warriors moved from tree to tree as they approached the camp, trying to determine just who it was down there. Ontarra could clearly see their outlines against the flickering of firelight. He twisted around, craning his neck to see through the tangle of branches. The hill above was a black void. He had no way to tell how many warriors were up there or how close they were. He’d have to remain concealed for this.

Ontarra rose up on one knee. Searching for a suitable opening in the branches, he pulled a deep breath, exhaled half, raised his bow, and loosed the first arrow. The sound of an arrow hissing past jarred the two warriors into the shadow of a massive hickory trunk. The arrow sang down the hillside, finding its mark in the thigh of the closest sentry, his shocked screams shattering the silence.

Ontarra settled back and nocked another arrow. The sentry’s cries sent everyone in the camp scurrying for weapons. Ontarra shot high, sending the next two arrows into the midst of the pandemonium. They thunked harmlessly into the ground near a hearth, but they had the desired effect. The hearth fires blinked out, quickly doused with water.

One arrow left.

Ontarra poked his head up, counting on the sudden loss of light to cripple everyone’s night vision. He could see the big hickory that the two warriors had ducked behind. He aimed an arm’s length above the base. The arrow swooshed into the darkness, and Ontarra held his breath.

Ayee!

The warrior’s scream left no doubt that he’d been hit. Ontarra spun and faced up the hill, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice would carry. Sennikae! Sennikae!

The hillside erupted in war cries…some much closer than he’d expected. Ontarra dropped flat to the ground, rocking his club out of his waistband with both hands. An arrow glanced off a limb above his head, sending a spray of bark chips over his back. He was surprised at the number of feet pounding past. Every warrior in the town on Cha-ta-kwa must have been following them.

A warrior crashed into the brush pile, sprawling with a gasp in the tangle of limbs. Ontarra gripped his club, rolling his eyes upward. Only a few tiny branches separated their faces. He felt the breath on his face as the man cursed and got his feet under him again. The warrior leaped over the fallen tree, rushing on to join the fight.

Ontarra relaxed, waiting a hand of time as he listened to the Gahkwas killing each other in a blind frenzy.

Praying no more were coming, he crawled out into the open, snaking across the hillside on his belly. When the sounds of battle were far behind, he stood and ran. He hit the trail, glancing left and right in confusion. He’d gone too far, had to backtrack until he found the tree with the slashes on it.

Togo…it’s me, he whispered, knowing Togo would have a knife pressed to Tadodaroh’s windpipe.

Togo’s head popped up. Thank the Manitos. Togo exhaled his relief. What’s going on out there?

Ontarra glanced toward the incessant shouts of battle—the harsh cries of men going down. The Gahkwas are entertaining each other. He turned back to Togo with a smug smile.

A puzzled frown wrinkled Togo’s eyes, a grin slowly tracking across his face. You got them to fight each other? How?

I’ll tell you later. Let’s get Tadodaroh out of here. They’ll be discovering their mistake soon enough.

The buffalo trail made walking easier, but the hills grew steeper as the night wore on. Togo’s pace slowed even more, his limp growing pronounced. He had to rest every arrow flight. The time Ontarra’s ploy had bought them was rapidly dwindling away. At first light, they hit the burned-out valley. Ontarra stared out across the wasteland, deciding what to do, while Togo tried to rub the pain from his leg. Ontarra settled down beside him. What’s wrong with the leg?

It’s too old for this. Togo’s face scrunched up as the calf muscle knotted. He relaxed after a heartbeat and caught his breath. I can’t go any further, Ontarra. You’re going to have to leave me here.

If one of us stays, we all stay, Ontarra answered bluntly, studying the blackened valley again. We didn’t dare to cross this on our way in—too open. So we went around, lost a lot of time. He turned back to Togo. If the Gahkwas are still following us, they won’t dare to cross it either. After the night they’ve had, they’ll expect a storm of arrows when they get halfway across. Ontarra gripped Togo’s arm. If you can get yourself to the other side, I’ll carry Tadodaroh.

Togo sighed, folded his arms across his chest, and half-heartedly bobbed his chin. You’re as stubborn as your mother.

Ontarra went over to Tadodaroh, lifted under his shoulders, and sat him up against a tree. A thought occurred to Togo. He dug in the carry pouch, pulling out what was left of the prisoner cords, and laid them over his palm, deciding if they were long enough to be of use. Sennikae warriors often bring unruly prisoners over great distances tied on their backs. I think we can use these. He tossed the cords to Ontarra. I’ll show you how.

Using the skin from the burden carrier and several lengths of cord, they tied Tadodaroh into the position of an unborn child in its mother’s womb. Togo joined several of the hide bindings together, tying an end around each of Tadodaroh’s thighs. Now, sit down with your back to him. Togo held Tadodaroh upright until he could lean him against Ontarra, then he looped the tether over Ontarra’s shoulders. Next, he tied a loop that went under Tadodaroh’s armpits, adjusting the length with knots until it pressed firmly against Ontarra’s forehead.

Togo sat back, admiring his handiwork. That should do it. He nodded, satisfied. Wrap your hands into the loop over your shoulders. By pressing with your hands, you can alternate his weight between your neck muscles and your back muscles. Try standing." Togo helped get Tadodaroh’s weight off the ground.

Ontarra shifted around under the load until the straps felt comfortable. He pressed into the loop and felt the weight shifting. It’s going to work. Are you sure you can get across, Togo?

Togo hobbled around in a tight circle. I’ll make it.

Ontarra turned and headed out across the forest of blackened stumps. Togo cracked a grin as he watched two of the fiercest men he’d ever known walking like a mother with her infant in a cradleboard. If Tadodaroh survived, it would be wise to omit this part of the story. Togo looked back to the west, his grin fading as he thought about how the Erieehronons dealt with prisoners. He plucked up a branch to use as a walking stick and headed out.

The rising Sun baked the charred landscape relentlessly. No breeze stirred to carry away the heat. Every breath was like sucking in the first steam in a sweat lodge. Togo scanned ahead for Ontarra but couldn’t see him. Each footstep sent a dusty cloud of ash into the air, coating his throat and nostrils. Togo couldn’t remember being so thirsty in his life. He tripped, falling headlong into soot and cinder, choking on the blinding powder floating around him. In his mind’s eye, he pictured tears staining Yalonda’s pretty face. He tried to rise, but his energy was spent. He heard the footsteps coming, but he didn’t care anymore.

*****

Three overturned canoes lay hidden in tall marsh grass along the south shore of Iannaoa. Fishermen laying nets had forced them in from the lake to await the shelter of darkness. Manak felt he could trust no one since the attack in the dunes. Sounia and Taiwa sat with smug smiles, listening to the tongue-lashing. Manak stopped yelling long enough to crane his eyes up over the tall grass, scanning for pursuers.

It can’t be him. Mox shook his head, staring lamely at his feet. My maul jellied his brains.

Manak twisted around, his face contorted with anger. You can’t tell shit from brains! How could you leave that walnut grove without being sure that he was dead!

He was dead, I tell you—the girls are mistaken. Mox sounded like he was trying to convince himself now. How could he possibly have followed us this far? Even his own people were after him.

Manak stared over at the girls and shifted his gaze to Matoupa. Did you get a good look at him in the dunes?

Matoupa shrugged, rocking his head from side to side. Too much was happening. People were dropping like tree beetles, and their faces were smeared with mud.

It was him, Taiwa interjected, a smile tracking out at the corners of her eyes. She cast an insolent look at Manak and shifted it to Matoupa. Her expression darkened. I told you he was coming, and I know my brother. He will dog you every day until this is finished.

Or until we kill him, Mox growled.

Or he kills you! Sounia shot back.

Manak fixed Mox with an icy stare, and Mox realized his mistake. You just said he was dead. Now you’re talking about killing him again! You’ve been nothing but trouble for the past moon cycle. What is going on with you? I should just leave you here! Manak launched into another string of obscenities.

Mox wilted and stared at his feet. Sounia and Taiwa locked eyes and smirked.

Sounia spent most of the morning alternating between laughing and crying, glancing back along the shoreline at regular intervals, hoping to catch another glimpse of Ontarra. Yesterday, she’d been almost suicidal; now the sparkle of life was back in her eyes. Taiwa was pleased, leaning forward as the tirade continued. If we’re lucky, Manak will get rid of the fat slug for us.

Manak’s anger burned itself out, grim acceptance overcoming the anger. We’ll wait here until dark and then head out. If we travel at night, no one will know where we went.

It was a long and tiresome day, hiding in a swamp, afraid to even stand up. A small waterspout lifted off the placid waters, dancing and swaying through the cattails, scattering redwings from their nests before wringing itself out on dry land. Matoupa chuckled as he watched the angry birds scolding an intruder they couldn’t see.

Mother said that those are caused by the Manito Nana’b’oozoo, chasing his brother Pukawiss. Taiwa’s voice was dreamy, memories carrying her back.

Dusk finally ended the long day, and they pushed off again. Iannaoa was dead calm. The moon cast a shimmering path across the lake. Children’s voices carried from somewhere on the south shore. For lack of anything better to do, Taiwa and Sounia spread robes out on the floors and went to sleep.

When Taiwa awoke, the eastern Sky was beginning to soften. She could just make out the thin line of the south shore, drawn out across the water like an endless sinew—they were a long way out. Directly ahead was a grouping of islands. The canoes slipped up into a small cove, and the men jumped out to haul them ashore.

Manak tossed hide tethers to Matoupa, jerking his head toward the girls. Tie them to that tree over there so we can get some sleep.

Matoupa glanced up at a cloudless Sky. They’ll get fried.

Manak scowled, his patience worn thin. We need sleep, and I’d like to be certain I’ll wake up again.

Matoupa dropped the cords to the ground. I’ll stay awake and watch them.

Manak looked over at the girls, then back to Matoupa. You’d better stay awake. He rolled out a sleep robe, flopped down, and was instantly asleep.

Matoupa sighed, dug into a burden pack, and handed the girls some jerked venison before lowering himself down with his back to a boulder.

Thank you, Matoupa, Taiwa said softly.

Matoupa managed a tight smile. It was the first time she’d spoken to him without malice since they had watched the Sun rising over Lake of the Okis.

Taiwa listened to Manak and Mox snoring as she chewed, her eyes still fixed on Matoupa. She leaned forward. Matoupa, if we take the canoes, we can escape across the lake to our lands. My brother wouldn’t be obliged to kill you.

Matoupa stopped chewing, studied Manak to be sure he was sleeping, and turned back to Taiwa. I have seen and heard things in your land that you know nothing of. Your shamans are evil men. Promise me that you will never return there while the shamans hold sway.

Anger flashed across Taiwa’s face, but she calmed herself, settling back against the tree to gnaw on her venison again.

Promise me, Taiwa.

I’ll promise you nothing.

As the Sun climbed, the heat grew stifling. Matoupa walked around the little island, trying to stay awake. When he returned, Taiwa and Sounia were lying against each other, boredom having worn them out. Matoupa folded back down with his back to the boulder.

Matoupa, wake up, Taiwa whispered, shaking his arm. Matoupa sat up with a start. The Sun was settling into its tunnel in the west. Matoupa tried to shake away the sleep. She stared into his eyes to be sure that he was back. They’re starting to wake up. You had better act alert.

Matoupa climbed to his feet, and Sounia met his eyes with an amused grin. Matoupa ran a hand down his face sheepishly. Thanks.

Manak scanned the lake. Empty. He was confident now that they’d outrun anyone trying to follow, so there was no need to wait for darkness. They set off again, heading into a dazzling sunset then on into the night. The air held a chill, and the girls slept fitfully.

Matoupa listened to Taiwa talking in her sleep, but her words were garbled. Just before dawn, she sat up, pulling the robe around her shoulders for warmth. She was uncharacteristically quiet until the Sun rose enough to expose a shoreline in the distance. Taiwa realized they’d reached the western end of the lake. Her gaze shifted to the right. She could see the northern shore, an unexpected pang shooting through her as she stared at her homeland, perhaps for the last time.

What is it? Sounia’s voice seemed to come from inside her head. Taiwa twisted around. Manak had come up alongside to grip the rail of Matoupa’s canoe. The bark hulls scuffed as they came together, bobbing on the light swells. Taiwa poked an arm out from under her robe, pointing to the thin strip of shore to the north. Khioetoa is right over there.

Sounia breathed a long sigh. So close, but so far away.

Is that it? Manak asked, gesturing to a large river mouth were the south shore angled to the northwest. Matoupa nodded. Manak pushed away again, kneeling to put his back into his paddle, tracking straight for the opening.

Taiwa turned back, staring one last time as her ancestral home merged with the lake.

A hand of canoes surged from the mouth of the river to intercept them. Taiwa saw the motifs and symbols on the bows and threw a hand over her mouth. You can’t let those warriors talk to us. Her voice quavered. They’re Agwa.

Manak laid his bow and several arrows on the floor in front of him.

Remember that we are traders, Matoupa cautioned.

The war canoes surrounded them. Matoupa signed greetings, reminding the warriors that they had visited here with the Erieehronon trader Dekari last cycle. The warriors relaxed, and Matoupa recognized one. With a nod, he switched to trade pidgin. We have completed our trading and ask if we might come and enjoy Maumee hospitality again. We would like permission to pass through your lands on our journey to the Father Water.

The warrior eyed Taiwa and Sounia suspiciously. Women didn’t travel on trade missions, but Matoupa had already considered this. We traded for these two women. Novelties. Their skin is so much lighter than ours.

The warrior grinned. They make your journey a more pleasant affair?

Matoupa raised a lecherous grin. The Maumee warriors roared with laughter. The war canoes escorted them up the river to a town set into a clearing on the west bank. People gathered along the shore to gawk at the visitors. The warriors shouted at some women, gesturing to a bark lodge reserved for guests and dignitaries.

Manak quietly instructed Mox to take the girls off by themselves so they wouldn’t talk to anyone.

As Mox ushered the girls through the crowd, an old woman stepped in front of Sounia. Sounia hung her head to avoid the curious eyes. The woman lifted Sounia’s chin, scrutinizing the shape of her face. Sounia’s eyes hardened. The old woman’s eyes narrowed to slits. Slowly she stepped out of the way and let them pass.

She knows, Sounia whispered to Taiwa as they ducked into the guest lodge.

Mox grunted, pointing to the cold hearth. He turned and left.

Taiwa stirred the coals and found a few embers. She laid some kindling on and sat down. Matoupa and Manak ducked in, setting the trade packs against the rear wall.

Taiwa grabbed Matoupa’s wrist. You should never have brought us here. These people are our worst enemies, and that old woman will be telling everyone that there are Attawondaronks in their town.

Matoupa pulled his arm away. She’s just old and addled. I watched her. She wandered off and started playing with some children. Matoupa glanced over at Manak, hoping for reassurance, but Manak’s eyes already held the menacing look of a trapped predator. Matoupa tried to relieve the tension in his gut with a long belch. We’ll only be here one night. As long as you two don’t try talking to anyone, everything will be fine. Matoupa squatted down. Opening a trade pack, he rocked out a bundle of pink shells and two cakes of Petun.

Manak crossed his arms. What are we going to say if they ask about the girls?

Matoupa straightened up, sucking in the corner of his lip while he thought. We’ll tell them they’re Erieehronon.

Is your topknot too tight? You saw their women. They’ll never believe that these two are Dog Women!

Matoupa hunched a bewildered shrug, shifting his gaze to Taiwa. What nation did you say your mother was?

Ojibwa. Taiwa nodded thoughtfully. They might believe that—yes, tell them we are Caribou People.

Can you speak any of the language?

Taiwa gave her head a negative shake.

Matoupa looked back to Manak. They are O-jib-wa. Leave Mox to guard the lodge. You and I will go out there and try to be proper guests.

Manak stared longingly at the pack that held his war club, shook his head, and followed Matoupa out.

This is going to be a really long day, Sounia whispered, taking in the distant look on Taiwa’s face. Why have you been so quiet all morning?

Oh…just thinking. Taiwa looked away, embarrassed. She studied the tiny tongues of flame beginning to lick at the kindling. It’s too late for us to think of escaping now, you know. These men are our only hope of surviving in the lands of the Fire People, and I can’t think of a way for Ontarra to follow us here.

A flutter danced through Sounia’s chest at the mention of his name. I still can’t believe he’s alive. She brushed moisture from the corner of one eye. Who do you think the men with him were?

I think I saw Togo, standing on the next dune back. Taiwa set two logs across the blazing kindling as she spoke, then picked up a cracked heating stone from the hearth ring, studying the sharp edge. She grabbed a fire log and knocked off a chunk of bark. With the edge of the stone, she scraped an outline, like an arrowhead with a rounded shank, and handed it to Sounia. Do you recognize it?

Sounia shrugged, handing it back.

Taiwa looked at the outline again, the corner of her mouth twisting up in disgust. She tossed it to the ground, lowering to squat on her heels and poke at the fire.

Sounia could see Taiwa’s mind wander off again. She watched the vacant stare in silence for a hand, but couldn’t take it anymore. What is it you keep thinking about?

Taiwa jolted from her reverie as if she’d been caught relieving herself. I had a strange dream last night, she answered slowly. "I was walking through a forest. Disembodied voices called out to me. I turned all around but couldn’t see anyone. No matter which way I turned, the voices were always behind me. I walked on, listening to what they were saying, but seeing no one.

I came across a man lying injured. He was in great pain, and I wanted to help. He said that he was beyond help. It was heart-wrenching… Taiwa’s voice trailed off, her eyes growing distant again.

Is that it? Sounia frowned, perturbed at getting a story with no ending.

Taiwa looked out the door, mumbling something unintelligible.

What?

Taiwa looked over at Sounia hesitantly, the shade of her cheeks deepening. Sounia’s interest piqued. I…I laid down with him. Taiwa’s voice quivered. She cleared her throat before continuing. I tried to comfort him.

A smile spread out across Sounia’s face.

Taiwa had to look away again. I could tell he’d known much pain. His Spirit was very old, had lived…and died many times. He wasn’t afraid, just sad. Taiwa plucked at her lip with her thumb and forefinger as the images returned.

We stayed there, listening to the voices in the forest. One voice was louder than all the others. It kept saying we had to continue, observe the demons of the new order to see how we can defeat the demons of the old order. The man forced himself to sit up, and I saw that he was a warrior. He said the voices were our destinies calling, invisible to us because they were unfulfilled. Despite his injuries, he hobbled off into the forest, and he was gone.

Taiwa—Sounia was grinning from ear to ear—you of all people laid with a man—a warrior? Was he handsome?

It was only a dream, Taiwa shot back defensively. Then her tone softened. Yes…he was very handsome.

Matoupa and Manak ducked in. It was clear by their expressions that something was wrong. Why would they insist that we stay another day? Manak asked in an agitated tone.

Matoupa shook his head, chewing on the side of a finger nervously. Something’s going on, he muttered. That was much too formal. No dancing, no storytelling. They didn’t even ask about our journeys.

Mox poked his head in past the door skin. They just sent runners out.

Manak reached into his trade pack and found the handle of his club. He yanked it out without opening the pack and pushed past Mox to see for himself.

Don’t go out there with a war club! Matoupa grabbed for Manak’s arm. Mox slammed a palm into Matoupa’s chest, staggering him backward. Mox’s venomous eyes shifted to the girls, and he lunged across the hearth, grabbing Taiwa by the hair.

We’re never going to get home dragging you two around! If it’s you they want, they can have you! He dragged Taiwa straight through the hearth as he hauled her toward the door.

Matoupa grabbed a fire log and swung. It stopped on Mox’s head and shattered. Mox dropped to his knees, swayed a bit, then slowly climbed back to his feet, an obsidian blade clutched in his right hand. Sounia hurled a hearthstone that glanced from his shoulder unnoticed.

Manak flew through the door, his club gripped tightly in both hands.

*****

Ontarra folded Togo over his shoulder and staggered for the eastern tree line. He didn’t dare to look back—afraid of what he might see, forcing his feet forward despite his searing lungs. Laboring the last few steps up into the trees, he slid Togo down beside Tadodaroh and rolled to his back on the pine-needled forest floor. The pain behind his left eye was back. When his lungs finally stopped heaving for air, Ontarra sat up and looked over at the two soot-covered forms. Now he had two invalids.

He stared out across the burned-out valley just as a Gahkwa warrior appeared at the edge of the far tree line. Several more trotted up beside him. There was an animated discussion, and then they disappeared again. Ontarra stared at his helpless companions. If those warriors knew there was only a club and one knife waiting for them over here, we’d be dead in a hand. He glanced up at the Sun. They will be here by midday.

Ontarra drew a deep breath and crawled to his feet, staring down sadly at the two men who he owed so much. He sat Togo upright, heaved him over his shoulder, and headed down through the trees.

In the next valley, Ontarra laid Togo down on a thick carpet of pine needles. He tried to remember how much farther Sennikae territory was. A half day, he decided. The Gahkwas would be on him long before he could reach the safety of the mountains.

A refreshing breeze picked up, wafting perfumed air up the valley from the marshlands below. Ontarra filled his lungs with the fragrances of pine and cedar. Like a thunderclap, the thought revealed itself. Leaving Togo helpless on his pine bed, he started running, praying he’d get to Tadodaroh before the Gahkwas did.

He followed his own tracks until he found Tadodaroh slumped on his side, unwittingly awaiting his demise at the hands of the Erieehronons. Ontarra sat him upright, got the prisoner cords in place, and lifted, staggering under the weight. Tado felt two stones heavier this time. Ontarra swayed, not daring to move until his legs stopped shaking. His stamina was depleted. If this didn’t work, it was all over.

Ontarra’s calf muscles raged with every step, his right knee threatening to buckle every time the weight shifted to that side. The only way he could persevere was to imagine himself in another time and place. Ontarra staggered, stumbling down through the pine valley, the pathways of his mind taking him back to a matrimonial lodge nestled into the nook of a steep ridge in a valley overflowing with walnut trees.

The pain in his legs drifted off into the distance.

He carried Tadodaroh all the way down into the swamp before his legs finally gave out. Ontarra sloughed off the prisoner cords, caught his breath, and staggered back up into the forest to drag Togo down. He settled Togo beside Tado, his lungs freezing with tense anxiety as he searched the carry pouch under Togo’s arm, the trapped air releasing in a relieved