Winter's Tree

12 - From the Ashes

By the sixth day, the first frost had come and gone and the promise of an early winter hung like snow on an overladen branch.

Ayessa stretched and rubbed at her scar. The cold had settled into it, stiffening the muscle beneath.

Near to her, lay Makaro. They had been unable to exchange more than a few heated kisses since leaving the clan.

Sliding out from under her reindeer skin blanket, she knelt beside it and rolled it tightly into a cylinder, lashing it firmly with two separate lengths of sinew.

A whisper of movement beside her made her glance up as Eshemwa re-entered the campsite and squatted next to her, near the still glowing embers of the fire.

He picked up a stick and teased the fire back to life.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake anyone.

The smell of bitter water brushed against her nose with every gust, but they had not come across it, or any of the other clans yet.

He nodded, his dark eyes fixed on the small flames before him. "A large group has passed through here. Heading south, towards the winter grounds, I think."

"Bene's people?" she asked.

"Maybe," Eshemwa replied. "Maybe not. Keep your spear close, Ayessa. I dislike the feel of this."

He rose and went to where Obu lay, waking him with a gentle hand to the shoulder and a few words murmured quietly in his ear.

"What is it?" Makaro said, sitting up to face her.

"Eshemwa thinks there may be trouble," she replied.

"What sort of trouble?"

Ayessa shrugged. "He did not say."

Makaro snorted. "He makes beasts out of shadows then."

"He knows what he sees, Makaro," she argued. "His instinct is good."

"He is not so young anymore," Makaro said, "maybe his wits are leaving him."

"He is not so old either," she said, with a frown. Makaro had been truculent from the start of this journey, and though she loved him, it was wearing on her.

"Come," she said, changing the subject."Get up and eat. Obu will have us moving soon."

Reluctantly, he obeyed, tying his furs into a tight roll that matched hers.

With his back to the fire, he cast a quick look over his shoulder and then took her hand in his, and gripped it.

"I am sorry, Ayessa," he said. "I do not mean to be so quick to fight, I am just worried for my people, and Eshemwa-" He cut off with a sigh. "I do not know. He just angers me with his manner as though he always knows better than anyone else."

"I understand," she said, squeezing her own fingers around his where they curled into her palm.

She worried about her own people, traveling south, with far fewer hunters than they would need if attacked again, and worry had been known to sharpen her tongue too.

"All will be well, Makaro," she reassured him.

He nodded, then removed his hand from hers and stood. "I pray it is so."

The fires had long since burned out and the odour of burnt flesh dissipated by the time they found the camp of Bene's people.

Grey ash covered the ground like new fallen snow and it was impossible to distinguish one corpse from another. They were too many though, and Ayessa feared few if any, had walked away.

Makaro said nothing and when she tried to reach for his hand, he pulled it away and turned from her. Unable to let her see his pain.

She longed to hold him in her arms, to stroke his hair and comfort him, but his rejection stung and she was at a loss.

She swallowed back her own tears as he walked away and started when a hand grasped her shoulder.

Turning, she looked up into Umeke's broad, round face. Usually so jovial, it was strange to see his face so serious now.

"Let him be, Ayessa," he said. "He will come back to himself in his own time."

He patted her with his hand and left her to watch Makaro's retreating back.

"Any sign of survivors?" Obu asked.

Predna shook his head. "But they might have followed the river. The water would hide their tracks."

Obu scratched his chin, then shook his head. "Their chances would have been small, I think, but we will follow the river south-east for a time until we need veer off for home."

They did not waste time at the camp. The sight of so many dead unnerved them, made them worry for their own people.

Ayessa walked beside Umeke, keeping her eye on Makaro, who walked by himself up ahead.

Things would not be so difficult if they were alone, able to seek solace in each other's arms. Her heart wept for him, but he would not even turn to look at her.

Night fell, and the temperature dropped. Ayessa could see her breath on the air as she sat, shivering, far enough away from the fire not to feel its heat. Makaro lay rolled into his furs a small distance away from her, feigning sleep. He had not spoken to her since this morning. Had not spoken to anyone.

A shadow fell across the ground in front of her and Eshemwa stood over her.

"Eat," he said, offering her a charred piece of rabbit.

She shook her head and returned to watching Makaro's still form.

Eshemwa stood a moment longer, then turned to rejoin the hunters around the fire.

Makaro's chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breath until it slowed enough for her to believe he had perhaps truly fallen asleep. Her fingers itched to touch his skin. To trace patterns over the smooth muscles on his back, to draw the symbols her mother had shown her on the walls of rock in their homes before the tents. Buffalo. Deer. Man. Spears. She would mark him as hers. If only he would let her.

A rustle in the bush beside her had her on her feet, spear in hand. The sound of men getting to their feet behind her told her the others had heard too.

The foliage parted and the flickering glow of the fire gave enough light for her to make out the features of the man who came into sight.

"Bene?"