Brave by Wendy Constance

Author:Wendy Constance
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Australia
Published: 2014-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

WILD HORSE

Wild Horse pulled on his leggings. The hide chafed his legs, sending sharp slivers of pain into his flesh. He tried not to grimace, didn’t want Blue Bird to see his agony. It was wrong that she had been hunting alone while he had been sleeping. And she‘d let him sleep until the sun was high in the sky. If he’d been with her they’d have been more likely to make a kill. She‘d brought back firewood, but no meat.

‘Do you know what our shaman used to tell us?’ said Blue Bird.

‘No.’

‘He told us,’ Blue Bird continued, ‘that if you are brave and strong without also being wise, your life will not be a long one.’

Wild Horse grunted. He was trying to remember what had happened before he fell asleep.

‘I have seen you being both brave and strong, Wild Horse. Now you have to be wise. You are too weak to hunt. You must rest by the fire to regain your strength.’

He stamped his foot like a trapped colt and a spasm blasted through his leg. Blue Bird was right. His legs throbbed with pain, and his body would suddenly shudder. He hobbled to the fire.

‘Let me put more balm on your wounds,’ said Blue Bird.

He agreed to remove his leggings and sit near the fire with his camel skin draped over him. Blotches the colour of the night sky were creeping across his legs; blisters emerging. He flinched as she dabbed. Even though her touch was gentle, it felt like she was piercing him with hot points.

They ate the meagre remains of the rabbit before Blue Bird went out again, hunting with Paska, leaving Wild Horse to take care of the cub. His stomach groaned at the thought of spending the night with hunger gnawing at him, but he doubted Blue Bird would come back with anything. If only he could join her . . . but he was too weak.

And he felt so tired. He wrapped his camel skin around him and lay down by the fire. The cub was curled up asleep, its mottled fur bristling gently in time with its breaths, its whiskers twitching occasionally.

It would be easy to slip his hands round its throat . . . He would make sure its death was quick. He imagined skinning the small body and laying it on the hot stones nestled in the fire. In his mind the flames spluttered as the juices ran down the stones.

He reached for his knife . . .

‘Oh, little one.’ Blue Bird’s voice rang into his ears.

Wild Horse jerked his hand upwards. But he wasn’t holding his knife. It had been just a bad dream.

Blue Bird threw something to the ground before lifting up the cub. ‘Just as well we came back when we did. The fire’s nearly died, and this little one has woken up while you’ve been sleeping.’

Wild Horse gazed into the faintly glowing embers. He shook his head to blot out his mind’s image of bulging eyes as he squeezed the young sabretooth’s throat.

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