Darkthaw by Kate A. Boorman Read Free Book Online

another story,” Matisa says, appreciative-like. It’s true: Kane took to riding horses like it was a memory he’d stored in his bones long ago and finally remembered.
    I crane my neck to look at him. Dark eyes, new-shaved head, shirt open at the throat. He looks easy out here, natural. Like he was meant to be outside the fortification all his life. He catches me looking and holds my gaze. He puts his hand to his heart, pretending to adjust the leather pack on his back. It’s a secret gesture:
You are here
, it’s saying.
    My steps falter. I feel his ma’s stare and snap my head forward.
    â€œAh,” Matisa says, like I’ve explained everything.
    â€œâ€˜Ah’ nothing,” I say, keeping my face blank. I pick up my pace.
    â€œâ€˜Ah’
everything
,” she says. “You two will be field mice under an eagle’s watch.”
    â€œWell, then,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “Need to find a burrow.”
    â€œWould you two mice know what to do with yourselves in a burrow?” She nudges me with her elbow.
    â€œI have ideas,” I mutter.
    Matisa’s laugh rings out clear through the woods.
    Flames crackle bright and orange, casting long shadows on the trees at our backs. Kane’s little brothers sit with their ma. Daniel’s head lolls against Sister Violet’s shoulder, and Nico rubs his eyes, fighting sleep.
    Across the fire, Kane sits next to Andre, who I think is busy describing the strange new birdcalls he heard today. Kane’s only half listening; his eyes keep rising to linger on my face. I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips.
    His ma peers at me, so I busy myself with feeding the fire another stick, though it’s already roaring good.
    Our bellies are full of venison stew and the tea Matisa prepared—the remedy—and we’re all wrapped tight against the quick-cooling night. Our tents and bedrolls are tucked away in the trees, waiting for our tired bodies.
    Beside me, Nishwa tilts his head, checking the tops of the trees, the sky.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?” I ask him.
    â€œThe clouds will clear soon,” he says.
    I frown. I’m about to ask how he could possibly know that when a sound rises up from beyond the trees. Shrill. Keening. Like a lost and terrified child. The hair on the back of my neck stands.
    The chatter around the fire stops abrupt.
    â€œSacrament,”
swears Frère Andre.
    Kane is on his feet in a heartbeat, hand flying to his knife.
    Matisa raises a hand. “Please, sit,” she says, calm.
    I throw a look to Isi and Nishwa, who haven’t moved a muscle, despite the ghost-cry.
    â€œ
Mescacâkan
,” Matisa says. Our faces must be comical-blank, because she grins. “Like a wolf, but smaller.”
    An animal—one that doesn’t make its home near the settlement.
    â€œIs it dangerous?” Sister Violet asks.
    â€œThey are not.” Matisa smiles. “But their song is strange to the new ear.”
    We listen, and more voices join. Sharp and shrill, coming, it seems, from every direction, all around us. And, true to Matisa’s words, as the cries blend and weave they become a kind of song. Sorrowful, beautiful. I can feel my face matching the others’ as we stare around at each other, wide-eyed. Daniel is rapt. Nico’s brow is furrowed, but a small smile pulls at his mouth.
    We sit still as ice, listening.
    â€œThe stars,” Nishwa says, nodding his head heavenward.
    I look up, and my breath stops.
    Out here, away from the glare of the burn baskets in the fortification courtyard, more stars than I ever thought possible stream across the dark sky above us. So many stars. Dancing apart and crowding together. Large streaks of white; smears of frost upon a dark wood. Glowing, glimmering. Like they’re alive.
    Soeur Manon used to describe the night sky as though the Almighty himself had sprinkled bits of silver upon a