The sun was high before the Walker broke camp the next day, every one of them restless, muttering to one another. They watched the low tent Santi and Peda had disappeared into, the rest of the elders following soon after. By the time they finally emerged, and Santi called cadence, rumors had already run wild through the band.
No announcement was made, no orders or instructions, but word rippled through them: The Red men, the Legion, were enemies of the Walker. The shunning was to be forgotten, but no aid was to be given to the hunters. Gradually, the nightly hunts became part of life, another step of the cycle of walking, camping, and walking again. Things became mostly normal as they followed the old trails back to Crossroads.
Mostly.
Adal sat with Alam on her lap. Her rifle was laid out on a hide, carefully stripped for cleaning. “Hunters keep up their own gear,” she said. Across from her, Ches had broken down his pistol, following along. “Their guns, at least. Menders are well and good, but when you range away, you need to be independent.” She tapped the stock, carved and painted through generations. “These weapons were carried since the first of us started the Long Walk. No one touches them but the hunter who’s earned one, and the elder who keeps them and gifts them.”
“But da wants me to be a mender,” Alam said, looking up. “Teach Ches.”
“You’re five, dearling,” she said, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to choose yet. And he doesn’t have to spell out your whole life.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because. Shush,” she said, carefully wiping grit out of a mechanism.
“He says it’s better to be a mender because we aren’t silly,” Alam said, picking at the edge of the hide. “We Walk like we should, not chase things.”
“Well, menders are boring,” Ches said. “Sit at camp and glue things up all day. I want to run around and explore!”
“Break your neck on a cliff!” Alam stuck his tongue out.
“Boys.” Ches was up on his knees, hands fisted, and Alam slid back against her to hide. “Walker needs both of them, and they do it better without fighting.”
“Da told Bern you like to fight with everyone, and are making Ches a terror.”
“Well, we’re doing good things, and your da’s too scared to fight!”
“Don’t know yours, townie!”
”Boys!” Adal stood and grabbed them each by the arms, keeping them from each other’s throats. “Stop that right now!” Others were looking up from their tasks, turning away from their fires. She knelt between them, still holding on. “Both of you apologize. Now,” she said, quieter.
“No! He’s more a terror than me!”
“Not even a Walker!”
“What’s going on?” She looked over her shoulder at Jeth, his jaw clenched. “What are you doing to my son?”
Crossroads (4a/9)
No announcement was made, no orders or instructions, but word rippled through them: The Red men, the Legion, were enemies of the Walker. The shunning was to be forgotten, but no aid was to be given to the hunters. Gradually, the nightly hunts became part of life, another step of the cycle of walking, camping, and walking again. Things became mostly normal as they followed the old trails back to Crossroads.
Mostly.
Adal sat with Alam on her lap. Her rifle was laid out on a hide, carefully stripped for cleaning. “Hunters keep up their own gear,” she said. Across from her, Ches had broken down his pistol, following along. “Their guns, at least. Menders are well and good, but when you range away, you need to be independent.” She tapped the stock, carved and painted through generations. “These weapons were carried since the first of us started the Long Walk. No one touches them but the hunter who’s earned one, and the elder who keeps them and gifts them.”
“But da wants me to be a mender,” Alam said, looking up. “Teach Ches.”
“You’re five, dearling,” she said, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to choose yet. And he doesn’t have to spell out your whole life.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because. Shush,” she said, carefully wiping grit out of a mechanism.
“He says it’s better to be a mender because we aren’t silly,” Alam said, picking at the edge of the hide. “We Walk like we should, not chase things.”
“Well, menders are boring,” Ches said. “Sit at camp and glue things up all day. I want to run around and explore!”
“Break your neck on a cliff!” Alam stuck his tongue out.
“Boys.” Ches was up on his knees, hands fisted, and Alam slid back against her to hide. “Walker needs both of them, and they do it better without fighting.”
“Da told Bern you like to fight with everyone, and are making Ches a terror.”
“Well, we’re doing good things, and your da’s too scared to fight!”
“Don’t know yours, townie!”
”Boys!” Adal stood and grabbed them each by the arms, keeping them from each other’s throats. “Stop that right now!” Others were looking up from their tasks, turning away from their fires. She knelt between them, still holding on. “Both of you apologize. Now,” she said, quieter.
“No! He’s more a terror than me!”
“Not even a Walker!”
“What’s going on?” She looked over her shoulder at Jeth, his jaw clenched. “What are you doing to my son?”