Shakespeare broke down and sobbed.
The Tunkua descended the slope with the agility of mountain goats and the stamina of Apaches. Powerfully built, their short, muscular bodies lent them superb endurance. They could jog half a day without tiring. This served them well now, as it was a long way from the top of the mountain to the bottom, many leagues of steep slopes and thick woods.
Skin Shredder pushed to descend as low as they could before the sun went down.
They took infrequent rests. When they came to a ridge that afforded a sweeping view of the valley, Skin Shredder raised an arm and the other warriors stopped. Some took out their food bundles to eat. Others gazed about the pristine wonderland, marveling at the abundance of wildlife. Their own valley had much to recommend it, but this valley, the Valley of the Bear People, as they had come to call it of late, was a paradise.
Black-capped chickadees played in the thickets. Grosbeaks frolicked in the pines. Red crossbills winged through the air bobbing their heads and uttering their strange cry of beep-beep-beep. Hummingbirds whizzed and dived. Flocks of small pine siskin flew from stand to stand. Gorgeous tanagers stared at them from high limbs. Jays squawked noisily. Black-and-white magpies added their calls to the chorus.
The evidence of mammals was everywhere. Tracks of elk and shaggy mountain buffalo. The weasel called the valley home. So did the mink and the marten. Mountain sheep could be seen on the heights. Badger burrows dotted open slopes. In the waterways beaver thrived, and in the largest stream, otter. Noisy squirrels sat on pine limbs, chewing nuts. Others scampered about the ground. Chipmunks would run in fright with their tails high.
There was sign of meat eaters, too. Bear, mountain lion, bobcat. Wolves and foxes. Coyotes were especially numerous.
Back when the Tunkua first came to the mountains, the tribe was delighted when they discovered the valley. It had everything they could want. They’d camped by the lake and held council. Everyone agreed it should be their new home.
But the next day something huge stirred the waters of the lake. All of them saw the water roil, saw a giant form swim just below the surface. A water devil, the older among them called it. Bad medicine.
The second night they heard strange cries. Not the howl of wolves or the yip of coyotes, but ululating wails and fierce roars from the vicinity of the glacier, borne to them by the wind. It filled them with unease. More bad medicine.
The morning of the third day dawned bright and beautiful until it was learned that one of their number was missing. A woman had gone into the forest to gather firewood and hadn’t returned. A search was conducted, with every warrior taking part. The best trackers among them were able to follow her tracks into the woods as far as a small clearing, where they abruptly stopped. There they also found other tracks, huge tracks, tracks unlike any bear but vaguely bearlike, tracks with long claws and narrow heels. The story the tracks told was plain. The woman had entered the clearing and the thing that made the huge tracks rushed out at her. She never got off a cry. Drops of blood told them they would never see her again.
This was the worst medicine of all. Another council was held and this time the tribe decided to move on. It was with reluctance that they climbed the west slopes and filed through a pass into the valley beyond. This other valley proved to be almost as bountiful. There was no lake—but no mysterious water creature, either. There was no glacier—but the nights were not disturbed by hideous cries. Best of all, they stayed there a week and no one disappeared. It became their new home.
Now, gazing out over the blue of the lake and the green of the valley bottom, Skin Shredder almost wished that this valley was their home. From time to time warriors had ventured here to hunt and fish, but they never stayed more than a few sleeps. The cries from the glacier and the roiling of the lake water always reminded them it was the haunt of creatures better left undisturbed. Creatures from when the world was young.
The Tunkua believed that at one time the earth had been filled with animals unlike any they were familiar with. Huge creatures, many covered with thick hair, creatures that dwarfed even the elk and the buffalo. Cats with teeth as long as a man’s arm. Bears that could reach the tops of trees. Fourlegged giants with two tails, one at each end, and two teeth, each as long as a canoe.
Tunkua legend had it that most of these creatures had died out. But not all of them. The same with the red-haired cannibals, once so numerous and the scourge of tribes everywhere. The Tunkua also passed down tales of the little people who once lived in the hills near the bay but retreated into the interior when the tribes grew in number.
Skin Shredder thought of all of this as he stood staring across the valley.
“You should eat,” Splashes Blood said, breaking into his reverie.
“I am not hungry.”
“We have far to go yet before dark.”
“Are you my friend or my mother?”
Splashes Blood chewed and shrugged. “It is your stomach. If you like it empty, that is your choice.” He gazed at the lake. “Have you noticed their wood lodges?”
“What about them?”
“Usually there is smoke rising from all of them. Today smoke rises from only one.”
“You think only a few of the Bear People are there?”
“It could be. We know they go out of the valley to the east from time to time. Where they go, we cannot say. But they always come back.”
“Just so there are some for us to kill,” Skin Shredder said. “I will spill their blood for the blood of my brother.”
“If I am right, if some of their lodges are empty, we can take whatever we want.”
Skin Shredder had been thinking the same thing. “Their lodges are not like ours. We have watched, and they do not go in and out as we do. Their lodges do not have flaps. Part of the wood opens and closes. How is a mystery.”
“They are people, like us. What they can do, we can do.”
“They are not like us,” Skin Shredder disagreed. “Their bodies are different; their ways are different.”
“I am only saying that we are as smart as they are. What they have figured out, we can figure out.”
Star Dancer joined them. He raised an arm and pointed. “When you are done arguing, look there.”
Skin Shredder tingled with excitement. Midway between the ridge and the valley floor a rider had appeared. A man on a black-and-white horse, climbing an open slope.
“He is not white,” Splashes Blood observed.
“He is still an enemy.”
“There is a woman with him,” Star Dancer said. “She is on her belly over the horse.”
Skin Shredder peered intently. He never ceased to be amazed at how sharp Star Dancer’s eyes were. A human hawk, Star Dancer. But he was right. There was a woman. A white woman.
“See how her arms are behind her back? And her feet are close together? She is tied. I think she is gagged, too, but it is too far for me to be sure.”
“Tied and gagged?” Splashes Blood mused. “That warrior has stolen her from the Bear Men.”
A smile curled the corners of Skin Shredder’s mouth. “What he has stolen from them, we can steal from him.” He motioned at the others. “Come, brothers. Tonight we eat two hearts.”
Seven human wolves bounded down the ridge, their scarred faces lit with the glow of bloodlust.
Chapter Ten
Zach King had a temper.
He’d had it since he was old enough to remember. When he got mad, he got really mad, so mad that he sometimes lost control and did things he later regretted. In a few instances he had gone berserk.