Chương 15: B1 Chapter 14

I stared at him. Timoteo had carried me through the forest when the ground became too difficult for my legs. He had complained the entire time, usually about how heavy I was, and then threatened to drop me into the river whenever I told him he smelled worse than whatever animal we'd killed. Yesterday, he had been alive. Now he lay facedown in the dirt while Bone Jaw stepped over his body. There was no time to mourn him. A scream came from somewhere else. I turned.

One of the Bone Jaw was running between the huts with a child beneath his arm. The child kicked wildly, striking the man's side with his heels while reaching toward anyone who might see him. Farther away, two more dragged one of our women between them. Her heels carved trenches through the dirt as she fought. She tore one arm free and clawed at the face of the man holding her. He punched her. Her head snapped sideways. She sagged. They kept dragging her. They weren't only killing us. They were taking us.

That part, at least, I understood. Bone Jaw always took people. But never like this. Never so many. Never at such cost. Why? Why risk their hunters attacking an entire village when they could take one of us from the forest whenever hunger demanded it? Another Bone Jaw fell beneath my father's spear. Two immediately replaced him. One thrust for Father's stomach. He knocked the point aside. The other came from his left with a stone axe. Father twisted away, but the edge still caught him across the ribs. I saw blood.

My entire body tightened. Father answered by driving the butt of his spear into the man's throat, then reversing the weapon and burying the point through his chest. There was no pause afterward. There couldn't be. The other Bone Jaw was already attacking. They were dying for this. That made no sense. Bone Jaw valued their hunters. They had to. Every tribe did. A hunter who died couldn't bring back food tomorrow. A hunter who lost an arm couldn't throw a spear.

Enough deaths meant children starved when the rains came and game became harder to find. Yet they kept coming. Something had made Bone Jaw abandon the way they had survived for generations. Something had driven them here. And it had happened on the same day the sky caught fire. I started forward. My first step nearly folded beneath me. I caught myself against Eyowon's hut. For half a heartbeat, fury made me want to force my legs to work. Just once. Run. Charge into them.

Stand beside my father and kill every Bone Jaw I could reach. My body didn't care what I wanted. It never had. I looked at the battle again. Makua could move. Hokan could move. My father could plant his feet, turn his hips, and put the entire strength of his body behind a spear. I couldn't. If I walked into the center of that fight with a knife, someone would put a spear through my belly before I reached the second man. Then Father would see me fall. Maybe he would break formation trying to reach me.

Maybe someone else would die because of it. That wasn't happening. I couldn't fight their fight. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. So I looked at the village the way I looked at the forest. Everything changed. The huts weren't homes anymore. They were cover. Drying racks broke sightlines. Cooking pits forced people around them. Stacks of wood created narrow passages. Baskets hid anything low enough to the ground.

There were spaces between the huts that children used because adults had to turn sideways to fit. I could crawl through those. I knew where the ground dipped. Where roots pushed through the dirt. Where people stored tools. Where the shadows remained darkest beneath the overhanging roofs. I had lived here my entire life. Bone Jaw hadn't. My breathing slowed. The screaming remained. The rage remained. But something familiar settled beneath both. I knew how to hunt. My hut was across the village.

My blowgun was inside. So were my darts. I started moving. Slowly. Quietly. My bad foot dragged if I hurried, so I didn't hurry. I placed it carefully. Shifted my weight. Moved the other. When there was something to hold, I used it. When there wasn't, I lowered myself and crawled. A Bone Jaw ran past the opening ahead. I stopped against the side of a hut. He never looked toward me. He was focused on the fighting. Good. Hunters died when they stared only at the thing making the most noise.

I waited until he disappeared. Then I moved. Two more crossed ahead. I slipped behind a stack of baskets and watched through the gaps. One carried a spear. The other had a struggling boy over his shoulder. The boy couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Every part of me wanted to go after them. My hand tightened around the knife. Two men. One knife. Bad legs. No surprise once I attacked the first. I stayed where I was. It hurt. It felt wrong.

But running after them would accomplish nothing except giving Bone Jaw another person to carry. I watched where they went instead. Toward the northern edge of the village. Remember. If I lived, remember. Then I continued. A shadow moved beside me. I turned with my knife raised. One of our dogs slipped around the hut. Blood covered its muzzle and one ear hung torn against the side of its head. It looked at me. I looked at it. Then it ran toward the fighting. I kept moving. A Bone Jaw appeared ahead. Close.

Too close. He hadn't seen me. He stood at the end of the passage between two huts, watching our hunters fight. I lowered myself behind a drying rack. He walked toward me. Bones clicked softly around his waist. Ten steps. Eight. Six. I tightened my grip around my knife. Four. If he looked down, I would have to kill him. Three. I studied him instead of panicking. Stone knife on the right side. Spear in his left hand. Bone plates over his chest. Nothing protecting the back of his knee. Two. He passed me.

His calf came within reach. I could cut him. Drop him. Finish him before he shouted if I was fast enough. Maybe. I let him pass. There were too many maybes in that choice. A hunter didn't strike merely because prey came close. He struck when the kill belonged to him. The Bone Jaw continued toward the center. I let him take another six steps. Then I moved. My hut was close now. I crossed the next opening on my hands and knees. A body lay beside the wall. One of ours. I knew his face. His eyes were open.

There was blood beneath his mouth and a hole where his throat should have been. I reached out as I passed and closed his eyes. Then I kept moving. Someone shouted. I looked up. A Bone Jaw had seen me. His arm came back. I dropped. The spear struck the wall above me. Wood splintered across my hair. I crawled. Another spear flew past and buried itself in the dirt where my hand had been. Footsteps came after me. Fast. There was no hiding now. My arms pulled. My knees shoved. My bad foot dragged uselessly behind me.

I reached the corner and threw myself around it. The Bone Jaw followed. A dog came from nowhere. It struck him from the side. They crashed together. The man screamed as teeth closed around his face. He punched the animal. The dog shook its head and tore. I kept moving. There was no time to help it. My hut stood ahead. I pushed myself upright against the wall of another shelter and staggered toward it. Five steps. Grab the wall. Move. Four more. My shoulder struck the next hut. Move.

I reached my own and tore the flap aside. Someone was inside. A Bone Jaw man had his back to me. He was throwing my things across the floor. My baskets had been overturned. Tools I had spent years making lay beneath his feet. A stone blade struck the wall as he tossed it aside. My blowgun rested against the far side of the hut. My dart pouch was beside it. The man turned. He had a spear. There was nowhere to hide. He thrust it at me. I moved. My mind knew exactly what to do. My body almost managed it. Almost.

The spearhead punched into my shoulder. Pain exploded through me. I hit the wall hard enough to shake it. For a moment, my arm went numb. The Bone Jaw grinned. He thought he'd won. He pulled. The stone head caught inside me. Pain tore through my shoulder. I grabbed the shaft. His grin disappeared. He pulled harder. I held on. He was stronger on his feet. So I stopped trying to stay on mine. I pulled him toward me and dropped. The spear tore deeper through my shoulder. I screamed. He stumbled.

I dragged him down with me. The ground took my legs out of the fight. Good. I didn't need them anymore. He tried to rise. I climbed him. My arm wrapped around his throat. He drove an elbow backward. It struck my cheek. I held on. Again. My teeth cut the inside of my mouth. Blood flooded my tongue. I held on. He rolled. My wounded shoulder hit the ground. The pain nearly tore my grip apart. His fingers clawed at my face. One found the corner of my eye. I jerked my head aside and squeezed. He tried to stand.

I dragged him back down. He tried to breathe. I tightened my arm. My arms had carried me through the forest when my legs couldn't. They had pulled me into trees. They had dragged traps. They had held struggling animals. They had never betrayed me. They didn't betray me now. The Bone Jaw's movements became frantic. His fingers dug into my forearm. He kicked. Twisted. Tried to slam the back of his head into my face. I squeezed harder. I thought of Timoteo. The spear bursting through his chest. The axe coming down.

I squeezed until something in the man's throat shifted beneath my arm. He made a horrible wet sound. I released him just enough to draw my knife. He twisted. I stabbed him in the belly. He struck my wounded shoulder. White swallowed my vision. I stabbed again. His hand closed around my wrist. I drove my forehead into the back of his skull. His grip loosened. I stabbed beneath his ribs. Again. Again. He rolled and came over me. His hand closed around my throat. I stabbed him. His fingers tightened. I stabbed again.

My lungs burned. Again. Blood poured over my hand. Again. His grip weakened. Again. His fingers slipped from my throat. I drove the knife into his belly one final time and held it there. His body shuddered. Then stopped. His full weight collapsed onto me. I lay beneath him, gasping. For several breaths, I couldn't move. My heart hammered against my ribs. The wound in my shoulder pulsed with every beat. Outside, people continued dying. Someone screamed. A dog yelped. Men shouted. My father roared an order.

Bone Jaw answered. There were still too many. I shoved the dead man away. It took three attempts. I rolled onto my side. The spear was still lodged through my shoulder. I stared at it. I wrapped my hand around the shaft. Pulled. The spearhead tore free. I bit down on my wrist. A sound escaped me anyway. For several breaths, the hut disappeared behind darkness. When my vision returned, blood was running quickly down my arm. Too quickly. I pressed my palm against the wound. Then I looked at the man I'd killed.

Human ribs covered his chest. Finger bones protected his wrists. A partial jaw covered one side of his face, its teeth painted red. One of the finger bones hanging from his neck was small. Too small. I stared at it. Then another scream came from outside.