There was something wrong here, Walker thought. No, not exactly wrong, but not exactly right, either. He knew the politics behind this move of Minisino’s, how it was time for all the injustices against the cerva clans and tribes to be set right, beginning with Anwatan’s death and stretching back to the great herds of buffalo that had been slaughtered with the coming of the Europeans and the aganesha who stowed away on their great ships as they crossed the ocean. Trolls and bogans, hidden deep in the holds. Fairies riding invisible on the rigging.

A reckoning was not only required, it was long past due.

It was an old, unhappy argument.

At one time, when he was a young buck, Walker might have been swayed to join Minisino’s army. But while he’d seen too much of the hurt and trouble of the world, he’d also seen the good in it. And he knew the spiritual leaders of the cerva spoke the truth when they named all life sacred, even that of one’s enemy.

So, while yes, Walker agreed, it had been better before the Europeans had come, that was many, many moons and seasons ago. The world changed, whether you wanted it to or not. It had changed from when Raven first called it up out of the long ago, and it would continue to change. The great tribes of buffalo could not be brought back. Anwatan, and those who had died these past few months as she had . . . they could not be brought back, either. Attacking all humans, or all fairy, would change nothing except to leave a dark stain on the soul of any cousin who took part in this war.

Minisino obviously disagreed. With the count of recent deaths mounting, more and more of his clan came to side with him until finally Pijaki-tibik, the old war chief, was ousted and Minisino claimed the title.

There had always been coals of anger smoldering deep in Minisino’s eyes, but today Walker sensed that anger was older than the injustice of Anwatan’s death and had little to do with vengeance for the thousands slain by the Europeans with their rifles and knives, who left their bodies to rot on the plains, taking only their skins.

But Walker couldn’t work his way through to the source of that anger, and now was not the time to try. With the army listening, he could only use the argument to which he had an undeniable right.

“You need to step aside, old man,” Minisino finally said.

Walker glared at him. “I will not allow you to do this in Anwatan’s name.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed: you are only one and we are many.”

“You have no right to take my vengeance,” Walker told him. “It is mine to take. Mine to decide the when and the where and the how.”