Path of the Crushed Heart: Book Four of the Serpent Catch Series Read Free Page A

taint of old kwea upon it, and Fava felt like a child, free to experience everything new, as if life were a stew cooked with exotic spices, none of which she had ever tasted.
    Fava found that she enjoyed the ride through the forest with the Hukm, in spite of unpleasantness ahead. Already they had turned west, leaving the hills of the coastal range, heading inland toward Bashevgo, another three weeks away.
    Fava worked her legs down under the hair on the mammoth’s neck. She had found that a hot mammoth under her legs and a thick red wool cloak taken from some Blade Kin slaughtered by the Hukm in a skirmish were all she needed to keep warm in the icy temperatures.
    Darrissea slept on the mammoth’s back, behind Fava, atop a load of food—a trick that Fava did not want to master. Stavan rode along on a mammoth beside them, and Fava was happy to see that her friend had found someone to love.
    A mammoth hurried up beside Fava, and the driver, a young Hukm girl that Fava recognized as Apple Breath, waved her fingers.
    Fava was learning the basics of Hukm finger language, and she found it quite odd. The Hukm described humans, Neanderthals, and Mastodon Men as “Meat People,” since they ate meat, and any herbivore with antlers was called a “knives-on-head,” whether it was a deer, moose, elk, goat, or ox.
    In some ways their vocabulary was very limited.
    The Hukm seemed so nonobservant as to appear stupid.
    Owls, swallows, eagles, and dragons were all simply “fliers,” while tadpoles, salmon, otters, and eels were classified as “swimmers.” A duck could be either a flier or a swimmer depending on whether it was in the air or on the water when spotted.
    On the other hand, the Hukm had names for every bush, weed, or tree, and described each with one of dozens of prefixes to define its taste. The bitter wild garlic was called “weasel-pee garlic,” and was easily classified with other plants that Hukm swore tasted of weasel pee.
    Still, Fava found that she could communicate so long as she kept from discussing herbs.
    In the thin moonlight Fava had difficulty following Apple Breath’s finger movements as she asked, “Why angry, Meat Person?”
    Fava realized that she’d been smiling. “I no angry,” she fingered back. “This Meat Person happy.”
    “You like Fruit Person?” Apple Breath asked. It was a question she asked a lot, as if convinced that Fava would change her mind and suddenly hate them all.
    Fava studied the girl. Apple Breath, like all her kind, seemed a benign, quiet beast-woman, camping without fire, chewing dry squash or sugar cane or rice or any of hundreds of sweet smelling fermented leaves. And Apple Breath treated her mastodons with more gentleness than most human taskmasters would show a Pwi worker. During the days she’d take the mammoths to windswept plateaus to feed, stroking the mammoths’ trunks or giving them special treats.
    “I like Fruit People. All Fruit people,” Fava fingered back, chopping her hand at the end for emphasis.
    “You like eat Fruit People?” Apple Breath asked.
    She seemed to think that humans and Pwi were predators, and all week she’d pointed out various animals—bobcats, skunks, snow owls, and mice—asking which Fava ate.
    Still Fava could not imagine the Hukm girl worrying about whether humans might eat her. Fava looked up into Apple Breath’s dark brown eyes, saw a sparkle of reflected moonlight, and realized the girl was teasing.
    “No like eat weasel-pee Fruit People,” Fava answered.
    Apple Breath burst out barking in staccato bursts, Hukm laughter.
    Suddenly, from over the ridge ahead, a Hukm let out a howl that cut off abruptly at the end, a signal for the whole caravan to stop while Ironwood Woman and Phylomon went ahead to investigate.
    Fava stopped, and upon the hill in the pale cinnabar moonlight, a Hukm waved his hands, finger talking. Fava could not make out his message, and Apple Breath repeated it for her.
    “Meat People ahead—”