Beyond the Great River (People of the Longhouse Book 1) by Zoe Saadia

Author:Zoe Saadia [Saadia, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2014-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

She was missing again, nowhere to be found. Migisso sighed.

His sister was incurable, such a restless spirit, made worse by the recent upheavals. The last two days should have calmed her down, made her understand the fragility of life, the fleetingness of it, made her respect the dangers and the customs that were created to minimize it. They should have made her more reasonable, less prone to her impulses and whims.

However, they seemed to do just the opposite. Instead of keeping low, like her other fellow women and many of the men did, she went about her life in a more independent manner than before, going in and out as she pleased, as though no enemy was prowling out there, shooting and killing, and setting houses on fire.

“Did you look around the ceremonial grounds, or just outside that opening in the fence?” Schikan had asked him earlier, when he came to check on his wounded friend for the tenth time through this daunting, exhausting day.

Schikan’s broken arm worried him. It had not been fixed properly through the night, even though the protruding bone was returned to its place, and the wound cleaned most thoroughly. Still, the special splint he had carved out at night was nowhere to be found, with nothing but a hastily obtained stick securing his friend’s broken limb.

Kentika!

He had grunted through his teeth, wishing to find her and shake her hard. Why couldn’t she be trusted to stick around for at least one single morning in order to take care of his friend? She cared about Schikan, obviously enough to risk her life while saving him—an adventure he, Migisso, had yet to hear all about—but not enough to stay around and do something as boring as caring for the wounded.

Where was she?

“Or maybe near the storage pits. Women might have decided to sort our supplies if stuck in the town for another day,” Schikan went on, leaning heavily against a chest padded with a generous layer of blankets, not daring to move a limb. He should have been lying down, Migisso knew, but neither he nor the old healer were able to convince the stubborn man to do that. The wounded insisted on sitting up, and he would have been walking or crawling but for the unbearable pain any attempt of movement had caused.

Broken ribs must be a terrible thing to cope with, he thought, shivering. May the Mighty Glooskap keep him from such a trial.

He shook his head grimly, getting rid of irrelevant thoughts. “I looked everywhere. She is not in the village.”

“Then where can she possibly—” The heated exclamation stopped in midair, as Schikan’s face twisted, turning yet paler, breaking out with sweat.

His heart twisting with compassion, Migisso watched his friend’s features contorting into an unrecognizable pattern, eyes closing, teeth making a mess out of the thin lower lip. How terribly painful it must be!

“You should lie down and rest, try to sleep a little,” he said, when the new outburst of agony evidently receded, leaving the wounded’s face empty, just a colorless mask.

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