Chương 18: B1 Chapter 17

Makua roared. The Bone Jaw charged. I slipped backward into the brush before either of them could look in my direction. Branches scraped across my face as I pushed deeper beneath the leaves. I lowered myself until my stomach touched the earth and pulled the blowgun in after me. My killing darts were gone. I reached for my other pouch and opened it. Hunting darts. These wouldn't kill a man. They didn't need to. I took one between my fingers. A dart in the ankle wouldn't kill anyone, but it would make him look down.

A dart in the hand might make his fingers open. One in the leg might make him stumble. One striking a man while he swung an axe might change where that axe landed. That was enough. I didn't have to kill them. I had to annoy them, distract them, make them hesitate when hesitation meant death. If I could turn a man's head while my father thrust his spear, that was enough. If I could make someone lift a foot while Hokan attacked, that was enough.

If I could make a man flinch while Makua's spear was already coming for him, that was enough. I slid the dart into the blowgun. And I was going to do as much damage as I could before they found me, because they were already beginning to notice. Bone Jaw shouted to one another. One pointed toward the huts while another looked toward the place I'd fired from moments earlier. They knew something was happening. They simply didn't know what. Yet.

I crawled deeper beneath the brush and found another opening through the leaves. From there I could see almost half the village. I searched for my next target. Instead, I noticed something else. A Bone Jaw dragged a woman toward the trees. Another carried a little girl beneath one arm. Farther away, a boy kicked and screamed as a man hauled him over his shoulder. Women. Children. I searched the rest of the village. Another woman. Another child. Then I looked at the dead. There were bodies everywhere now.

Ours and theirs. Bone Jaw stepped over them. One of our hunters lay near the firepit with his stomach opened. Nobody touched him. Another body lay between two huts, and nobody touched that one either. Bone Jaw ate people. Everyone knew that. They hunted us because we were meat. So why were they leaving meat behind? A dead man couldn't fight or run. If this was about food, the bodies should have been valuable. They weren't taking them. They weren't even trying. Then I noticed one of their own.

A Bone Jaw warrior lay facedown near a cooking pit. One of his people ran directly past him without stopping to check whether the man was alive or trying to drag him away. He simply stepped around the body and kept fighting. Another Bone Jaw lay near the edge of the village. They had abandoned him too. I stopped searching for a target. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. For several heartbeats, I simply watched.

The answer was everywhere once I knew what to look for. They weren't collecting their dead or ours. They weren't taking wounded men. They were killing them. The only people being dragged toward the forest were women and children. My stomach tightened. This wasn't hunger. This wasn't a raid for meat. This wasn't Bone Jaw coming because their hunters had failed and their bellies were empty. They wanted our men dead. They wanted our women. They wanted our children.

And they didn't care how many of their own people died accomplishing it. I had heard stories of tribes destroying one another. Old stories Eyowon told about people who no longer existed. Places where one tribe decided another could no longer be allowed to live beside the same river, hunt beneath the same trees, or raise children on the same land. Blood wars. Our little river tribe had never known one. We fought. Hunters sometimes killed hunters. People argued over fishing places or hunting grounds.

Someone stole, someone took revenge, and people died. But nothing like this. This was as close to a blood war as our little river tribe had ever come. And I still didn't understand why. The sky was on fire. Bone Jaw had come to erase us. I couldn't believe those things had nothing to do with each other. A shout rose from the center of the village. It wasn't the sharp cry of someone being wounded. It was a challenge. I lifted my head slightly and looked through the leaves. Joa had reached the open ground.

He stood between two huts with his spear held low, his shoulders hunched and his feet planted wide in the dirt. A Bone Jaw warrior faced him. The man was larger than Joa by half a body. He carried a stone axe in one hand and a short club in the other. His face was painted in black lines that ran from his eyes to his jaw. Blood covered one side of his chest, but I couldn't tell whether it belonged to him or someone else. Joa spat into the dirt. The Bone Jaw answered with a roar. Then they moved.

The Bone Jaw swung the axe first, and Joa twisted aside. The stone blade struck the ground where his ribs had been and buried itself in the dirt. Joa drove his spear forward, but the Bone Jaw tore the axe free and knocked the shaft aside with his club. The spear point scraped across his arm. The Bone Jaw didn't even look at the cut. He stepped into Joa's reach and brought his club around. Joa ducked, but not far enough. The club struck his shoulder with a heavy crack, and Joa staggered. The Bone Jaw raised the axe.

I lifted the blowgun. The dart was already waiting. I aimed at the Bone Jaw's thigh. The leaves hid most of my body, and the opening was narrow. If I missed, the dart would vanish into the grass. I breathed out. The Bone Jaw began to bring the axe down. I fired. The dart struck just below his hip. He flinched. It was small. A twitch. A tightening of the leg. But it changed the blow. The axe came down crooked and struck the ground beside Joa instead of splitting his skull. Joa rolled away.

The Bone Jaw looked at his leg. Only for a moment. That moment was enough. Joa came up on one knee and drove his spear into the man's stomach. The point entered beneath the ribs. The Bone Jaw made a wet, surprised sound. Joa shoved harder. The spear came out through the man's back. The warrior fell forward, dragging the shaft from Joa's hands as he collapsed. Joa stood over him, breathing hard. He looked around, but he didn't know what had happened. Neither did the Bone Jaw. I lowered the blowgun. One dart.

One life. One more reason for them to fear the dark. A horn sounded near the far side of the village, and the Bone Jaw answered it with a series of shouts. More of them began moving toward the center. Our hunters were being pushed together. Not by accident. The Bone Jaw were closing around them. I saw my father near the firepit. He had lost his knife. He held a spear in both hands and fought with three Bone Jaw around him.

One came from the front, another circled behind him, and the third waited just outside the reach of his spear, watching for an opening. My father thrust at the first. The man knocked the spear aside, and the second rushed in. My father turned and caught the attack on the shaft. The impact drove him backward. His heel struck a stone, and he nearly fell. The third Bone Jaw charged. My father recovered just in time to bring the spear across his body. The Bone Jaw's club struck the shaft. The wood cracked.

My father stumbled, and the first warrior came at him again. I loaded another dart. My hands were shaking now, not from fear, but from the knowledge that I had only a few left. I aimed at the Bone Jaw in front of my father. He raised his axe. My father had no room to retreat. I fired. The dart struck the man's wrist. His fingers opened, and the axe fell into the dirt. My father drove the broken end of his spear into the man's throat. The Bone Jaw dropped, choking. But the other two were already on him.

One struck my father across the ribs while the other grabbed the broken spear and pulled. My father held on. For a moment, they stood locked together, each trying to wrench the weapon away. Then the Bone Jaw behind him lifted his club. I reached for another dart. Too slow. A shape crashed into the fight. Hokan. He slammed his shoulder into the Bone Jaw's side and drove him into the firepit. Coals scattered across the dirt. The man screamed as he rolled through them.

My father tore the spear free and turned on the remaining warrior. The Bone Jaw swung. My father ducked beneath the club and thrust upward. The spear entered beneath the man's jaw. He fell backward. Hokan kicked the other man away from the coals and seized his hair. The Bone Jaw clawed at Hokan's arm. Hokan struck him once. Then again. The third blow ended the struggle. For a heartbeat, my father and Hokan stood together. Then more Bone Jaw rushed toward them. They had seen the fight.

They had seen two of their own fall. They came from between the huts, from beside the fire, and from the path leading toward the trees. Our hunters were being forced into the same space. Joa joined them, blood running down his arm. Makua came from the opposite side, dragging one foot but still carrying his spear. Others stumbled in behind them. Some were wounded. Some had no weapons. One carried a stone knife while another held a broken branch. They gathered because there was nowhere else to go.