“Go Slow… It Hurts,” She Moaned—He Whispered, “I’ll D.i.e Before I Hurt You”
Part 2
Elena woke to birdsong and the smell of dying embers. For one panicked breath she didn’t know where she was — and then she remembered, and the panic loosened its grip.
Windrunner had not moved from his place by the fire all night, or so it seemed. He led her to the stream to wash, laid out a soft leather dress and a pair of moccasins that had belonged to his sister, and by midmorning they were riding north together, Elena seated in front of him, his hand resting light and impersonal at her waist only when the horse startled.
They reached his people’s camp — a scatter of hide lodges tucked in a river valley, dogs barking, children stopping their games to stare — as the sun climbed toward noon. An older man came out to meet them, broad-shouldered despite his years, his face carved with the particular patience of someone used to being listened to.
“My uncle,” Windrunner said. “Elder Two Rivers. He speaks for our people.”
The elder listened to Windrunner’s account without interrupting, his eyes moving once, briefly, to the raw wounds on Elena’s feet. When he finally spoke, it was in his own language, low and unhurried, and Windrunner translated without embellishment.
“He says a wolf does not turn away another wolf’s cub simply because its fur is a different color. You may stay. You may learn our ways if you wish it. No one here will make you a wife or a servant against your will.” He paused. “He also says — you will work. Everyone here works.”
Relief nearly buckled Elena’s knees. “Tell him thank you.”
“Tell him yourself,” Windrunner said, something almost like humor in his voice. “You will learn the words soon enough.”
That afternoon, Windrunner’s sister Wren pressed a scraping tool into Elena’s clumsy hands and set about teaching her to work a deer hide, laughing kindly at every mistake. Across the camp, Windrunner strung bows with a cluster of boys, glancing over now and then — not with hunger, Elena noticed, but with something closer to relief, as if her survival mattered to him for its own sake.
For the first time since Hollow Creek, Elena let herself imagine a future that didn’t end in someone else’s fists.
She did not yet know that four days south, her father was already saddling a horse — and that Silas Cobb was riding with him, carrying a debt no one in camp had reason to guess.
