The Ice Lion by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

Author:Kathleen O'Neal Gear [Gear, Kathleen O'Neal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780756415853
Google: vcL3DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0756415845
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2021-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

24

QUILLER

Bull boats are gone,” I whisper when I see the loose shrouds and ripped clothing of the dead flapping around the burial scaffolds ahead. Clumps of zyme have washed in today and lie like glowing green arms across the beach. “Where is everyone?”

Boats were pulled up on shore when I left, but there’s nothing there now, nor are they out in the ocean. And there’s no one fishing or playing upon the shore. Which means my people are either dead or gone. There are no other choices.

Thirty paces ahead, Crow charges around the five burial scaffolds, sniffing the air. Sea eagles and ravens flutter above the dead. Even from this distance, I can tell the corpses’ faces have been picked clean by hungry sea birds. They’ve become white skulls with threads of wiry hair. It’s the way of the world. Life is meat.

“Jawbone? I’m going to run ahead.”

“No!” Little Fawn screams. “Quiller, don’t leave us! What if lions come?”

Loon cries, “Quiller, don’t go!”

Kneeling down, I take a few precious moments to pat Loon’s blond curls and calmly say, “Have you seen any lion tracks?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t think they can be very close, do you? My village is just up the beach from those burial scaffolds. Even if you walk slowly, you’ll be there in a few hundred heartbeats. I just want to scout it first. You’ll be all right for a little while, won’t you? Jawbone will be here to take care of you.”

Her small red face is streaked with tears, but she bravely says, “All right.”

Jawbone, carrying Chickadee, says, “Go on, Quiller. We won’t be far behind you.”

“If you see any danger, run for the trees, and climb as high as you can. Understand?”

“We will.”

I sprint toward the burial scaffolds. Crow has vanished. As I careen around the scaffolds, my steps falter. The lodges sit in exactly the same positions, but most of the lodge covers have been stripped off, leaving the rib-bone frames bare.

Crow runs from lodge frame to lodge frame, tucking her nose through the bones to look inside. A few belongings are visible, but many have been blown across the beach. Painted clothing, beaded headbands, and wooden dishes scatter the ground. Mink, Basher, and RabbitEar stand together by the central fire pit.

As I pound across the sand to join them, I gaze around the abandoned village, the trees, and the jagged mountains of ice to the east. A lion trap, made from logs hauled down from the forest, stands to the east at the edge of the trees. Though it is ten hands tall and the same wide, it’s forty hands long. The gnawed carcass of a bison rests in the rear of the trap.

“Where is everyone?” I shout.

“Gone,” Mink calls.

“No bodies?”

Mink shakes his head. “No. Whatever the threat was, they saw it coming, got in the boats, and left.”

“Hushy must have warned them.”

“Yes, we figured that out, too.”

When I trot up and stand at RabbitEar’s side, he gives me a soft look, telling me he’s glad to see me.

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