Morrighan - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,6

with the color of a smoky sunset. I had wanted to touch it and see what it felt like. Was it that color because she bathed? We had no girls in our camp—only boys, men, and three women like Laurida—their faces tough and lined with years. Morrighan’s cheeks were as smooth as a spring leaf.

I heard commotion and the whickering of horses. And then Steffan’s loud call that the others were back, as if it weren’t obvious. I shook out the intestines and trudged back up the slope to camp. My steps faltered when I saw Harik with the elders of the clan. He didn’t come by our camp as often these days, instead staying in his massive fortress on the other side of the river—the one he had named Venda after his bride, the Siarrah. But the water was rising and the bridge was leaning. It might not be long before his fortress was cut off from the rest of us, and he couldn’t come at all. Fergus said the river would swallow the bridge soon. Harik balked and said he would build another, which seemed an impossible task, but he was larger in power and hunger than most, and it was rumored that his father had been one of the mightiest Ancients. Maybe he had ways we didn’t know of.

“You remember the boy, don’t you?” Fergus said pointing at me.

“Steffan,” Harik said, clamping his massive hand down on my shoulder.

“That’s my brother. I’m Jafir,” I said, but he had already turned away and was settling near the fire with Piers.

The evening went as others—food, squabbles, and news of far-off kin. Fergus said our kin in the north mused again about what lay beyond the western mountains. They were considering venturing forth to search for better fortune than what the scrabble offered here and had asked Fergus to join them. I rolled my eyes. They were always “considering,” but nothing came of it. The mountains held the sickness. Nothing grew there. To go through them was to die. Even the mighty clans kept fear close to their hearts. There were still a few among us, like Piers, who had been around when the cloud of death rolled across the land. He was only six at the time, but he recalled the terror.

After dinner Harik passed around a bottle he had brought with him. While food might be scarce, on his side of the river, they still managed to brew the foul liquid. Even though I sat at the ring with everyone else, none was offered to me. Piers reached past me to hand the bottle to Reeve, who sat on my other side. I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed when Harik passed the bottle on to Steffan. He drank and choked on the spirits, and everyone laughed. I did too, but Steffan plucked my laughter out from the rest. He turned and glared at me, the kind of glare that said I would pay later.

Then the talk turned to the tribes. Harik wondered, as he had on past visits, where one tribe in particular had gone. They hadn’t been seen in four years. The tribe of Gaudrel. When he said her name, I heard anger in his voice. “And that brat she drags with her,” he added. “Morrighan.”

I saw the hunger in his eyes. He wanted her. The most powerful man in the land—more powerful than Fergus—wanted Morrighan.

And I was the only one who knew where she was.

Chapter Seven

Morrighan

He didn’t hide in the bushes this time. He strode up the wide marble steps in a frightening way. As if he owned them. Why was this scavenger so hard to understand? His chest was bare, and his face gleamed. He had bathed. With the dirt washed away, his skin was now a golden hue, and his long ropes of hair, brighter. The broadening of his shoulders made his meatless ribs look more pathetic. But the look in his eyes was fierce.

“I thought you weren’t coming?” I said, taking a step back when he stopped in front of me.

He eyed me for a long while before answering. “I come and go, when and where I please. Why does Harik the Great know your name?”

I felt as if I’d been punched breathless. I’d heard whispers in camp between the miadres. Ama and the others hated him. His name was like poison, not to be touched. It alarmed me to think he might know my name. Jafir was wrong.

“He doesn’t know