Burnt Hair and Okwaho’s father, Holds the Door Open, had been chosen to announce their decision to the great chief. Atatarho had stared at them with anger in his eyes. For a few breaths it seemed as if he would either forbid them to leave or have them punished. Then the giant war chief had shaken his head, the black snakes tied into his hair writhing as he did so.

“You are no help to me if you will not fight,” Atatarho growled. “Go. See what your foolish decision brings you. But your dogs cannot go with you. They stay here. They will help guard our village from enemies, and take the place of you weaklings.”

As the group left the village, no one had spoken to wish them a good journey and good health. Instead, everyone who was not coming with them looked away. All except one person: Clouds Forming, who was the best friend of Okwaho and Tawis. She stood defiantly at the gate, watching them depart. Though she did not speak aloud, Okwaho saw the words she was forming with her mouth.

Be strong, my brothers. We will meet again.

•   •   •

When the fourteen families decided to leave the big village, the family of Clouds Forming had not agreed to go with them. They were of the same clan and family as Atatarho, the powerful warrior chief. There was no way anyone in his family could go against their kinsman’s word. Even if they had not feared his anger, their first loyalty was to their powerful relative.

•   •   •

It had been five moons since their departure from the big village. The hard times of constant fighting that cost the lives of so many had seemed far behind them to the two boys. It was the sort of warm day that sometimes comes after the leaves have begun to change color. The stream where they knew there were big trout was not that far from their hidden village. Surely no danger could come to them there.

Even so, Okwaho and Tawis had been careful. They’d waited, looking around and listening before leaving the shelter of the forest and walking out onto the meadow that had been left when an old beaver dam had finally collapsed. The narrow but deep stream that wound its way through that meadow had spots eroded out under its banks by the current where good-sized fish might be found.

The two of them had walked along either side of the stream, staying low, moving slowly and keeping their eyes on the water. They knew that fish could feel the vibration of heavy feet and hide before being seen. Still, every time they caught sight of a trout facing into the current, tail moving lazily, that fish would quickly see them and dart for safety under a stone or under the stream bank.