Fugitive of the Sky

Chapter Seven: All For Nothing

Natan hurried his steps, glad to get away from the anger choking the ground behind them. It was said that stones absorbed the blood that was shed on them, and blood stones attracted wisps that could steal your soul. He hoped that they would not absorb arguments and anger as well. There was enough evil in these mountains as it was.

He caught up to Tampul and they walked in silence. Tampul kicked the stones once, then changed back to his usual hunter's soft steps. Natan surreptitiously watched the way he deftly avoided sending pebbles clattering down the slope and tried to copy. Tampul would be too angry to correct him. Not that he needed correcting.

There seemed to be an endless amount of cliffs. For every one they rounded, another loomed up in front of them, another forbidden wall they had to pass.

Natan ran through all the things the hunters had done to track the Larkwings before. Hornar could pluck a plant and say whether a Larkwing had tended it. There were supposed to be occasional footprints in the mud — though why Larkwings would step on banks of the ice-cold streams at this time of year he didn't understand. They could fly! — and an unnatural amount of birds where Larkwings dwelled. Nothing useful.

When they had chased, then lost, the other Larkwing earlier, it had mostly been by sound and the blood spattered all over the leaves, tree branches, and the ground beneath. But the Larkwing wasn't leaving any blood trail he could see. Or had the stones absorbed it already? Natan shivered.

Tampul turned into a cleft where the cliffs had not quite split apart so overhanging rocks formed a roof. A tree spilled halfway over the edge, casting a little shade, and the back was filled by tangling thorn bushes. He sat down in the shadow of the tree and leaned against the wall. Little bits broke off and bounced loudly. Tampul scowled and motioned for Natan to sit down. "Le's take a break here."

Natan sat down beside him, grateful to rest. His legs were aching from all the running he'd done today. If only they had a skin of water with them to quench his thirst. Running and leaving the packs didn't seem like such a good idea now, but how else would they have kept up with the Larkwing? Not that it had mattered anyway, he thought sourly.

Finally, Tampul spoke. "If th' Larkwin's anywhere near here, we're no' goin' t' find i' in th' open. You wait here for a bunch, then go ou' an' check th' cliffs and th' rocks and make a bunch of noise. I'll go int' the fores' t' see if th' Larkwin' can be scared out."

"I thought you said the Larkwing was on the rocks?" The words escaped Natan before he thought better of it.

"I said th' Larkwin' would've fallen on th' rocks if Notir'd sho' i'!" Tampul snapped. "Th' Larkwin's probably flown over th' cliffs by now an' we've los' i' for good, bu' we're still searchin' anyway in th' hea' of th' day! If th' Larkwin's still alive an' flyin', it's no good tryin' t' catch i' until i' stops t' res'."

"Then why are we trying to find it?" Natan wiped his face. The sweat had half dried and was sticky. "Shouldn't we both go into the forest?" He wondered whether Tampul was just making an excuse to get back into the cooler forest and steal a drink. Even shaded from the direct sun, the air here was hot and stuffy.

"I've go' a whistle on me, which I be' you lef' with your pack back there. When th' Larkwin' sees you kickin' abou' by th' cliffs, it'll fly ou' t'wards th' fores', where I'll be waitin'."

"Then you'll get the kill!" Natan protested. He had to be there when it died, even if he didn't strike the killing blow himself. That was the whole point.

"You have a problem wit' tha', trader?" Tampul straightened, a dangerous light in his eyes.

Natan forced himself to match glare for glare. "I want the kill as much as you do, and I'm willing to take it like it or not." Mostly true, but true enough he could put ice in his tone. He would pay his debts from this Larkwing hunt. He watched Tampul's gaze narrow. Neither of them would back down.