He held his hands out to the flames, grateful for their warmth. Had they arrived prior to Ayonhwathah’s crossing, he knew the longhouse’s interior would have been as dark as night and as cold as the snow-bound woods that surrounded it.

It was on the tip of his tongue to enquire how the old man had known of his imminent return, but he knew there would be no rational answer. In matters of prophecy, one did not question the how or the wherefore, any more than one queried the existence of Ha-Wen-Neyu, the Creator of all things, when the evidence was everywhere around you. One had only to gaze upon a snow-capped mountain or a crystal-clear lake or watch an eagle soar to know the works and wisdom of the Great Spirit, whose voice could be heard in the wind and whose breath gave life to all the world.

Hawkwood posed the next question carefully. “Did Ayonhwathah give purpose to my being here?”

Tewanias shook his head. “He did not. He spoke only of when, not why.”

“When?” Hawkwood said.

“Ea, he said that on the seventh day, following the birth of djutu’weha’ – the moon of great cold – Kahrhakon:ha would return, to warm himself at the fires of the Kanien’kehá:ka.”

Hawkwood digested that. “How did you know where I – we – would be?”

“We did not know.”

“But you were looking for me?”

“We were searching, but not for you alone.”

“I do not understand. Then how did you find us?”

The two warriors exchanged looks. It was Tewanias who answered.

“We know soldiers of the Yan-kees have been gathering at Senhahlone – what the whites call Platts-burg – and that they have been joined by our enemy, the Oneniote’á:ka. Their runners have been seen to the north and east. They have been drawing ever closer. Fearing attack, we sent scouts into the forest to watch the trails and to give warning. When Cageaga found the Oneniote’á:ka’s spoor, he thought they were searching for us, not you.

“We knew no matter what path you were on, it would bring you here. We did not think it would happen the way it did, that our enemy would bring you to us. Cageaga tells me you fought well.”

“I am flattered by Cageaga’s words. All Kanien’kehá:ka know him to be a great warrior.”

“The scars on your face tell me there have been other battles,” Tewanias observed softly.

Too many, Hawkwood thought, but he smiled and said, “A few.”

Tewanias gazed at him perceptively. “You have the look of a soldier, Mat-huwa. One who serves in the army of the Great King, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Hawkwood looked towards the sleeping Lawrence. “We both do.”