Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) Read Free

side.
    Black Locust, a homely little girl who had seen nine summers, stared at the birds, awestruck. “Look at that. They hit you hard enough to break their necks.”
    Greyhawk struggled to his feet. “That’s because they’re trying to kill me.”
    Grizzly called out to the other children, “Don’t stand next to Greyhawk or the terns will rip off your ears.” He pointed upward.
    Everyone looked, and Twig’s mouth dropped open. There had to be one hundred terns circling right over Greyhawk’s head.
    Greyhawk shrieked and started running around in circles, which upset Yipper. He started leaping and snarling at Greyhawk’s heels.
    Snapper shouted, “Greyhawk! Stop that!”
    “He’s such a worm.” Grizzly picked up a handful of tern poop and threw it at Greyhawk. It splatted on his rabbithide hat.
    All of the children except Twig roared with laughter.
    Grizzly picked up another handful to throw, and Snapper yelled, “That’s enough!” She swatted Grizzly in the head with her hide bag. “Start gathering eggs. If we aren’t quick, you will all be late for tonight’s Storytelling.”
    As the children dashed out into the nesting area, grabbing eggs and filling their bags, the cries of the terns rose to a deafening roar. The birds squealed like rabid bats, dove, and tore at the children’s hands and clothing.
    Greyhawk ran.
    Twig called, “Greyhawk, wait!”
    “No! I don’t care if I do shame my father,” Greyhawk shouted and kept running. Yipper charged out in front of him, leading the way home.
    “Yes, you do!” Twig ran harder, caught up with him, and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Don’t you want to be a great warrior, like your father? If you leave now, you’ll be staring at your feet for the rest of your life.”
    Greyhawk faced her with his jaw clenched tight. Like all children between the ages of eight and twelve, boys and girls, he was studying to be a warrior. On any other day, except today when he needed both hands to grab eggs, he would have had his weapons with him.
    “Are you coming or not?” she asked.
    Finally, he threw up his arms. “All right, but if the terns pluck my brain out, I expect you to scoop up every piece and carry it home to my father.”
    “Whatever they don’t choke down.”
    He gave her a disheartened look as he strode past her and dashed out into the nesting area. Yipper worked
himself into a frenzy barking and snapping at the attacking birds.
    “Hurry!” Twig yelled. “Once our bags are full we can leave!”
    She whacked at terns with one hand while she grabbed eggs with the other, then sprinted for the next nest. Greyhawk stayed close beside her. His hat took most of the hits, but occasionally a tern flew right into his face and bashed him hard. His nose was bleeding.
    After another hundred heartbeats, a high-pitched scream rang out, and Grizzly ran past them batting at his head. Two terns had grabbed locks of his hair and were ferociously trying to rip it out by the roots. Grizzly shouted, “Get them off me! Help! Somebody help me!”
    Snapper stalked over and whacked him in the head with her bag again, which knocked the terns loose and sent them squealing into the sky. “Stop playing with the terns and get back to gathering eggs,” she ordered.
    Grizzly looked at her as though she were dim-witted, but ran to obey.
    In a short time, most of the children’s bags were full, and one by one, they began to race out of the nesting area and back up the trail.
    Once they were all assembled, Snapper yelled, “Now, stay together! We have to walk fast, or you will be late for Elder Bandtail’s Storytelling.”
    By the time they reached Buffalobeard Village, Father Sun had already slipped into the underworld, and a misty purple haze was rising from Ice Giant Lake.

CHAPTER 3

    A T THE EDGE of the village, the children split up and sprinted for their own lodges. Twig called, “I’ll see you at Storytelling, Greyhawk.”
    He lifted a hand and trotted away with Yipper