Morrighan - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,15

Liam still casting glares at the newcomers. With their soup finished, the children and mothers looked glumly into the fire. The silence was stifling. I preferred squabbles and scuffles to the taut hush.

Anger welled in me, and I whispered to Laurida, “Why do we never tell stories?”

Laurida shrugged. “Stories are a luxury of the well-fed.”

“At least stories would fill the silence!” I snapped. “Or help us understand our past!” And then lower, under my breath as I glared down at the ground. “I don’t even know how my own mother died.”

Fergus’s boots suddenly filled my circle of vision. I looked up. His eyes blazed with anger. “She starved to death,” he said. “She hid away her share of food and gave it to you and Steffan. She died because of you. Is that the story you wanted to hear?”

On a different night, I might have felt the back of his hand again, but his expression was so filled with disgust, the effort to hit me must not have seemed worth it, and he turned away.

No, it was not the story I wanted to hear.

Chapter Thirteen

Morrighan

“Where were you?” I asked, running to meet him as he got off his horse. He hadn’t come for three days, and I had feared the worst.

He drew me into his arms, holding me tight in a strange, desperate way.

“Jafir?”

He pulled back, and that’s when I saw the side of his face, a purple bruise coloring it from cheekbone to jaw, circling under his eye.

Fear skittered through my chest. “What beast did this?” I demanded, reaching for his cheek.

He brushed my hand away. “It is nothing.”

“Jafir!” I insisted.

“It wasn’t a beast.” He tied his horse’s lead to a branch. “It was my father.”

“Your father?” I couldn’t hide my shock, nor did I want to. “Then he is the worst kind of animal.”

Jafir spun, lashing out at me. “He’s not a beast, Morrighan!” And then more quietly, “Our northern clan arrived. There are many mouths to feed. He must show strength, or we will all become weak.”

I stared at him, dread rushing through me. It was no longer just talk. They would cross the mountains. I kept my voice even, trying to hide my fear. “Will you leave with them?”

“They’re my kin, Morrighan. There are small children—” He shook his head, and in a tone that held both regret and resignation, he added, “I am the best hunter of the clan.”

That was because his kin were lazy and impatient. They wanted what they hadn’t worked for. I had seen Jafir carefully setting his snares, patiently sharpening his arrows, scanning the grasses with the steady eye of a hawk, looking for the slightest rustle.

“Before they leave, you could teach them. You could—”

“I cannot stay in this canyon, Morrighan! Where would I go?”

I didn’t need to say the words. He saw them in my eyes. Come with me to my tribe.

He shook his head. “I’m not like your kind.” And then more sharply, almost as an accusation: “Why don’t you carry weapons?”

I bristled, pulling back my shoulders. “We have weapons. We just don’t use them on people.”

“Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be so weak.”

Weak? My fingers curled to a fist, and swifter than a hare, I punched him in the stomach. He grunted, doubling over.

“Does that seem weak to you, mighty scavenger?” I taunted. “And remember, our numbers are twice that of yours. Maybe it is you who should follow our ways.”

His breath returned, and he looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with playful revenge. He sprang, knocking me to the ground, and we rolled in the meadow grass until he had me pinned beneath him.

“How is it that I’ve never seen this great camp of yours? Where is it?”

A member of the tribe never gave away the location of the rest, even if caught. Ever. He saw my hesitation. The corner of his mouth pulled in disappointment that I didn’t trust him. But I did—I trusted him with my life.

“It’s a vale,” I said. “Just a short walk from here. A canopy of trees hides the camp from the bluffs above.” I told him I took the narrow ridge just outside the entrance to this canyon to get there. “It’s not far. Do you want to come with me to see it?” I asked, thinking he had changed his mind.

He shook his head. “With more mouths to feed, there is more hunting to be done.”

A knot grew in my throat. His kin needed him. They would