The Dawn Country Read Free

with round white rocks.
    Frigid silence reigns in the night, punctured only by my companions’ breathing and the occasional popping of the flames. Though I know Mother and Father guard me—and five other people sleep nearby—I jump every time Wind Mother rattles the trees, or flames leap as they chew through the sweet-smelling plum branches. My ears strain to hear enemy steps in the night.
    I look first at Mother, then turn my eyes to Father. They guard opposite sides of the camp, and for a long time I’m not sure they’re real. So many times in the past moon, I imagined them standing just like this only to be shaken out of dreams and back to horror.
    Is it truly different this time?
    When Father turns to smile at me, tears of relief silver my vision. My anxiety drains away, leaving me exhausted. No matter how long I live, my best memory will be the sight of Mother and Father running out of the forest with their war clubs swinging, killing the men who held us captive.
    As I live it again, the strange euphoria intensifies, sharpened to a deadly edge by the fear that this freedom can’t last. They are coming for me. I know it.
    My little sister, Tutelo, sleeps beside me. She rolls over and heaves a sigh. I turn to make sure she’s all right. She has a doehide pulled up over her head in the manner of a hood. Only her pretty oval face with its turned-up nose gleams in the firelight. She has seen eight summers pass.
    Behind her, Baji is stretched out on her back. I can’t be certain, but I think she’s staring up at the campfires of the dead that sprinkle the night sky. Every so often, I smell the acrid scent of the burning village that clings to my moosehide blanket. Is Baji thinking about what happened earlier tonight? About the gigantic warriors’ camp outside of the flaming village, the screams and cries of orphaned children … the laughter of warriors covered in blood?
    Baji has seen twelve summers. Long eyelashes fringe her dark eyes. Her small nose and full lips are perfect. Long black hair spreads across the blanket around her. She was captured in a raid and sold into slavery the day after I was.
    Images flash behind my eyes: Girls thrown to the ground by brutal men … suffocating sobs … Gan—
    A terrified cry climbs my throat. Barely audible. No one else seems to hear. Except Baji.
    She rolls to face me and mouths the words, Are you all right?
    I shake my head, aware that the terror has broken loose inside me. Will I ever be able to completely wall it away down in that black space between my souls? For the moment I can only blink at the hot tears and try to control the fear.
    Baji wraps her blanket around her shoulders, rises, and tiptoes over to kneel beside me.
    “What’s wrong?” she whispers.
    I stare up at her. “I dreamed there are warriors coming.”
    “Warriors? From the victory camp? Or her warriors?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe hers.”
    She shakes her head violently, and long black hair flies around her shoulders. She’s just as afraid as I am. “No, I—I don’t think so. Why would they come after us? She bought new children from the destroyed village. She doesn’t need us any longer.”
    The evil old woman who buys and sells captured children is a powerful witch. She can hear conversations from a day’s march away. I’m afraid she’s listening to us right now.
    I whisper, “They’re coming, Baji. I swear it. I feel the warriors’ footsteps in my heart.”
    For a long time Baji looks out at the firelit shadows that sway in the trees, as though searching for hidden men. Then she curls up beside me and stares at me. “Even if she is coming after us, we have a good head start. And your mother and father, and the two Hills People warriors they brought, will protect us.”
    “I know.” I want so desperately to believe it’s true.
    Baji wets her lips and whispers, “I’m more worried about Wrass and Zateri. Do you think they’re all right?”
    A deep ache fills my chest. Our