Page 95 of Sun Warrior

“Thank you,” his scratchy voice said. “I need to feed Odin, too.”

Ralina nodded. “The Carpenters built a temporary platform in that gnarled old oak about twenty yards over there.” She pointed toward the far side of the meditation platform. “Two of the rabbit warrens survived. We’re rationing food for the canines from there.”

“Only two warrens left?” Wilkes shook his head. There had been twelve major warrens where rabbits were bred and then distributed to the Tribe for food and pelts.

“Only two,” Ralina said. “And that was a close thing. But the Hunters are already setting traps for more breeder rabbits. Maybe they’ll manage to bring back a deer, or even a boar.” The Storyteller looked up at Wilkes, and he could see a world of misery in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Two warrens are a lot better than none. And the rabbits can be replaced. Easily. How about you take a seat with me on that log and fill me in on everything else?”

“Okay. Yes.” Ralina began to walk with him the short distance to a singed log, but she staggered and almost fell.

Wilkes helped right her and kept a tight hold of her arm, easing her into sitting beside him. He noticed how pale she was and the terrible dark shadows under her eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?”

She shook her head.

“You have to,” Wilkes told her gently.

“I tried, but when I closed my eyes I saw nothing but fire and death. I—I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.” Her head bowed and her shoulders shook as she cried silently.

Wilkes put his arm around her. “Hey, we’ll get through this. Think about The Tale of Endings and Beginnings. Worse has happened to our ancestors and they survived and thrived. We will, too.”

“More than anything else I hope you’re right about that.” Ralina wiped her face with her sleeve as her Shepherd, Bear, padded up to her, whining his concern.

“It’s okay, Bear. I’m okay,” she murmured as he licked her face and she slipped from the log to sit on the ground beside him. It wasn’t longbefore she crossed her legs and leaned back, looking up at Wilkes. “I’m better now. What is it you need to know?”

“How are the Mother Plants?”

“They’re being tended. It’s too early to be sure, but Maeve says most will live. She transplanted them into the branches above the meditation platform, though they will soon need to be permanently planted in a new cluster of Mother Trees.”

Wilkes closed his eyes briefly in relief. “Maeve made it. How about her new pup? Fortina, right? Is she fine, too?”

“Both are well. And all of her assistants live, too. As soon as the fire broke out, Maeve ordered the Mother Plants moved.”

“That was wise of her.” He shoveled a couple more bites of porridge into his mouth, asking around it, “Do we have a death count yet?”

“We have an estimate. The count is almost two thousand Companions lost, but it’s probably low.”

“Sunfire! More than two thousanddead! But that’s almost half of the Tribe.”

Ralina nodded. “There are another five hundred plus wounded. Many of them will die, too. And that doesn’t take into account how many of us will perish later from the blight.”

The Storyteller looked down at her arms, and Wilkes followed her gaze. Her forearms were riddled with scratches he hadn’t noticed before through the sweat and soot that pretty much covered all of them, but now he saw the bloody wounds and he felt a terrible hollowness in his stomach that he knew no amount of porridge would ever fill. Her wounds were minor, but blight could infect any break in the skin, with a survival rate of less than five out of ten. He took quick stock of his own body. He was bruised and sore, though he didn’t think his skin had been broken anywhere.But Ralina’s right. How many of us who look healthy right now, who think they’ve come through this terrible fire safely, will die slowly of the blight because of scratches and cuts?

“Hey, we will get through this. One day at a time,” Wilkes said. “Someday you’ll be telling this tale to our rebuilt Tribe with a newgeneration of youngsters all big eyed over the story while we oldsters cheer and drink too much winter beer.”

Ralina was almost smiling when from the ancient, uninhabited forest behind them came the sounds of boisterous Tribesmen approaching. Wilkes thought he might be hearing things—that he might have been driven mad by death and the stress of the past days—becausewhy would anyone be laughing and joking at a time like this?

Thaddeus and a small group of his Hunters burst through the underbrush. They were carrying big leather satchels—the kind used to strap supplies on Shepherds’ backs if they were on long forage trips with their Companions. And the Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.

The Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.

With Ralina beside him, Wilkes stood and turned slowly to meet the group, trying to keep a hold on his rising temper.

“Wilkes! Ha! There you are. Wait till you see what we found—medical supplies! A lot of them. Can you believe our luck?” Thaddeus said, tossing one of the satchels to Wilkes, who caught it, glanced at its contents, and handed it to a gray-faced Ralina.

“Bandages and salves,” Ralina said.