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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Then she had let down his head and stood up. His fist had been clenched and from it there had peeked a piece of leather thong. She had bent down again and opened his fingers.

It was Hunting Wolf’s amulet.

But the thing …

The thing he had lunged at …

She had picked it up and held the bloody circle to her heart. Then she had walked to her son, lifted him in her arms and gone outside.

Singing Tree shivered as she walked in silence. The sun was not warming her. Since they had broken camp at dawn this morning, she had looked constantly behind her, waiting for the men who would run behind and bring them down with guns.

But they would not come after them now. Even with so many dead white men. What she had seen outside the tunnel had been just as beyond explanation as what she had seen inside. The Kinchuinicks would go back to the reserve and they would not follow. She felt it.

The white man needed things he could see and touch to deliver his justice, and what could they see or touch to make sense of the things that happened to their kind in that hole in the mountain?

She walked on with her head higher, but her heart still aching from his loss. If only he had known that she believed in him. That she was shamed by her betrayal.

Then he ran to her. Eden James Hunting Wolf.

‘I saw an eagle, Mother.’

She nodded, reaching out for him.

It was right to rename him. He was new. Saved by the thin white man who had tried to save her husband too. He spoke again. And he would be the keeper. Eden James wore his father’s Isksaksin.

Singing Tree wrapped the boy in her arms and put her face in his hair. They held each other for a moment, then walked on with the solemn party of their people.

The eagle they had seen flew high above them, watching the dark line of figures and horses moving east, as closely as it watched the hare hopping in the blue-shadowed snow.

61

‘WHY?’

Fists clenched, head thrown back on his neck, eyes rolled inside his skull. Sam Hunting Wolf was naked, on his knees in the gravel of the tunnel, and as the agony of his shout returned to him, bouncing off the rock like a taunt, the clouds of vapour from his mouth died on the freezing air.

Feathers brushed his sweating brow. The soft feathers of a forgiving eagle guide. One that had been denied for more than two decades, and even now was still being resisted. He unclenched the fingers of his hands and clawed wildly at the empty air as if to ward off an insect, then fell forward with a grunt, his rigid arms holding him off the rocky tunnel floor.