There is no future for us, Morrighan. There can never be.
Jafir had a knowing about him too. It was a knowing I didn’t want to think about.
Chapter Twelve
Jafir
“You are a lone wolf, always going off by yourself.” Fergus threw a blanket onto the back of his horse. “You’ll ride with us today.”
I had already promised Morrighan I would meet her early and we would ride to the falls where the knotweed grew. She had spotted it on one of our rides. If I was lucky, I might spear a fish in the pools of water there too.
Fergus hit me with the back of his hand, sending me stumbling into my horse. I regained my footing and tasted blood in my mouth. My fingers curled to fists, but I knew better than to strike the leader of the clan.
“What’s the matter with you?” he yelled. “Are you listening to me?”
“There is nothing wrong with hunting alone. I always bring back game to feed everyone.”
“Rabbits!” Steffan sneered, readying his own horse. “He’s not a lone wolf! He’s nothing more than a duck. Always preening in the water.”
“It is called bathing!” Laurida yelled from where she stood by the ovens with Glynis and Tory. “It would do all our noses some good if you followed Jafir’s example.”
The rest of the clan, who were also saddling up, laughed. Fergus ignored Laurida, eyeing me instead, a dark scowl on his brow. “We do not hunt today. We take. Liam spotted a tribe yesterday.”
“A tribe? Where?” I asked.
He mistook my quick reply for eagerness and smiled. It was a rare sight on his face, especially if it was directed at me. “An hour’s ride north,” he answered. “Their bellies were fat, and their baskets full.”
I breathed relief. Morrighan’s tribe was south and to the west. Our clan hadn’t raided a camp since last spring. The tribes had either become better at hiding or had moved far from us.
“You don’t need me,” I said, looking at Piers, Liam, and the rest. “You have enough—”
Fergus grabbed me by my shirt, jerking me close, his expression a threatening storm. “You ride with us. You are my son.”
There would be no dissuading him. I nodded, and he released his grip. I stared after him as he mounted his horse, wondering what ate through him. It was not like him to even remember that he was my father.
They did not fight back. It sickened me how easily their food was taken. It was a small tribe, only about nine, but none defended their ground. An iron poker lay near their fire, a knife on a rough wooden table, rocks at their feet, but none lifted a hand toward us. Fight back, I wanted to say, but I knew if they did, we would cut them down. Not all of them, but enough to send the message. Do not fight us. We are hungry like you, and we deserve this food as much as you, even if it was gathered by your hand. It had always made sense to me before, but now the words seemed jumbled, different, as if they had been rearranged.
It is them or us. The whisper was faint now, and I wondered if I had ever heard it at all. I couldn’t remember her face anymore, not even the color of her hair, but I still felt my mother’s lips against my ear, warm, sickly, the sour smell of death on them, whispering the ways of the clan. The tribes have a knowing about them, a way of conjuring food from the dry grasses of the hills. As the gods have blessed them, so should they bless us.
I tied a sack of acorns to the back of my horse, while the rest of the clan pillaged or brandished their weapons as warning. I kept my gaze down, concentrating on tightening the rope, avoiding looking at any of them, but I couldn’t ignore the whimpers of a few. These acorns, gathered by another hand, were no blessing to me, and the bile rose in my throat. My father’s scorn surfaced again. What’s the matter with you?
Steffan eyed a girl cowering behind the older women of the tribe.
“Come here,” he called to her.
She shook her head wildly, her wide eyes glistening. The women pulled closer, shoulder to shoulder.
“Come!” he yelled.
“We’re finished here,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Leave the girl alone.”
“Stay out of it, Jafir!” he yelled. He threw off my arm, advancing toward her, but Piers stepped into his path.
“As your brother said, we are done.” Steffan had come to blows with Piers before, but Fergus, Liam, and Reeve were already riding off. The others were also mounting their horses to leave.
Steffan glared at the girl. “I’ll be back,” he warned, and left with the rest of us.
We traveled swiftly over the grasslands and hills back to camp, and with each mile, my anger grew. Fight back. Conflicting words pounded in my head. Them or us.