Page 110 of Circle of Days

Stam said: “Go and get some big flat leaves and some vines. I’ve got two bleeding wounds, and one of them is your doing. Just put the baby down and leave him here. I’m not giving you the chance to swim the river and escape.”

She hesitated. She could hardly bear to leave Olin.

Stam said: “Just a moment ago you promised to do anything I asked.”

She saw that he would do no harm to Olin, for he could use Olin to control her. She laid the baby down gently and went to get what he needed.

When she came back, Olin was fine.

As she dressed Stam’s wounds she felt the rage rise in her again. Here she was, bandaging the wounds of the man who had murdered Han. She had lost everything to Stam. Han was dead and she was going back to Farmplace, back to the harsh farmer society. Everything she hoped for was dust. Were it not for Olin she would drown herself. But she had to suppress her rage. It boiled inside her, as if she had eaten foul poison, but she had to hide her feelings.

When she had bound up Stam’s wounds, he said: “Now make me food. I’m hungry.”

She was on the point of saying they should do something about the bodies, but she decided not to argue. She put Olin down while she cut some cold meat from a cooked duck and chopped some meadowsweet she had found by the river. She put the food in a bowl and took it to Stam.

He ate the meal with his fingers.

When he had finished, he said: “It’s not long past midday. We can cover a good distance this afternoon. Let’s get going.”

She screwed up her courage. “Surely we should cremate the dead.”

“No time,” he said.

“Then at least let me put them inside the shelter!”

“Be quick.”

She went to Han’s body. The sight made her sob so hard she had trouble bending down and taking hold of his ankles. Still weeping, she dragged him across the ground. It seemed a cruel and disrespectful way to move him, but she knew she could not lift him off the ground. He was far too heavy, and she could not ask for help from the murderer.

She took Han into the shelter and arranged his body neatly, his legs straight, his feet together, his arms crossed on his chest. He was dressed in his tunic and his big shoes.

Still weeping, she repeated the process with Fell, who was a lot lighter. The two men lay side by side.

Finally she dragged in Thunder, who had bled to death. She put him beside Han.

She picked up Olin and sang the song of the Earth God. It seemed to soothe the baby. She was afraid Stam would interruptand drag her away, but he did nothing and she was able to finish the song.

It seemed wrong to leave Han and Fell there, but she could do nothing more.

She stepped outside, then looked back at the shelter. It had been her home for more than half a year. It had witnessed the best time of her life, and the worst.

Stam said: “Ready at last.”

She nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

They walked away.

The woodlanders were hunting in the Northwest Hills. It was better than the last two summers, which had been dire. The winter snow had refreshed the springs in the hills. There had been new grass when they arrived and, although it was mostly gone now, they had killed some deer and eaten well.

Bez, Gida, Lali, and their companions were flat on their bellies, upwind of a herd of red deer, big and meaty. The red deer had an extra attraction: spreading antlers that made invaluable tools. It was a hot day, so the women were naked, and the men wore only their leather loincloths. They crawled forward, needing to get close enough to deploy bows and arrows without spooking the beasts. They kept a disciplined silence: deer had good hearing.

Bez thought they were almost there when the whole herd suddenly became nervous. Some looked up, some stepped sideways, some gave a little jump. Had they scented something? Then he saw a dog trotting across the hill. The deer moved away, getting ready to run. The hunters stood up, and some shot arrows, but they were too far away, and the herd fled.

The dog that had caused the trouble looked weary and dispirited. Some of the woodlanders yelled at it angrily for ruining the hunt, but it seemed too tired to care. Lali, who had a youngster’s keen eyesight, said: “That’s Fell’s dog.”

Bez saw the white patch on its muzzle. Lali was right.