Rift by Kay Kenyon Read Free Book Online Page B

effortlessly and ruinously stolen up on them. A little taller than Reeve, and twice as thin, the fellow managed to intimidate with his murderous scowl, black and snaggled teeth, and a sword almost as broad and long as his leg. He stank, even at a distance of several feet. To be bested by the likes of this fellow set Reeve’s blood on a rolling boil. Noting the saber, Reeve decided the claver might know how to wield it, and resolved to bide his time before taking the ruffian on.
    A sharp whack between his shoulder blades was Reeve’s signal to move as the claver herded them down the gully, in the direction the girl had taken. The foul taste of soil lingered in Reeve’s mouth, a muddy brine of dirt and saliva which he sucked on for the last shred of his pellet food.
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    By their poles, Loon saw that the Mudders were angry. They had taken feet. She lay on her belly and watched as they argued over which way to go. In the pouch at her waist were some well-chosen rocks. If they started in her direction, she would give a few of them a tap on the head. Clutching her sling, she squinted into the sun setting at the edge of the plains. Loon sucked the mud off her fingers and waited to see what course the hunting party would take.
    The lead Mudder was a woman. From her fierce expression, she seemed to be in a hurry—no small wonder, since the Reever said he had made water on their food packs. On
food
packs. The Reever himself must be very fierce, Loon thought, to risk such an insult. The Mudder’s hair was braided with odd strips of silver. Some of the Mudders wore jackets like the Reever wore. Wherever he came from, his clave must be very rich. She guessed the Mudders had raided the Reevers and now pursued these two. It might be a feud. Taking feet was a sign of feud.
    Spar said the Reevers claimed to be from the Sky Clave. If they were zerters, that would explain why the Mudders took the feet. But after a whole day with the Reevers, and watching them closely, Loon could not believe they were the deserters of the sky wheel. Everyone knew the zerters were fat, and these two were slim. But their captives were strange, to be sure. They could bear no animal meat. Their pack had many oddities. Among these were silver packs containing kernels the Reevers liked to eat. Ah—this was perhaps the silver the Mudder woman bound into her hair.
    As Loon watched the Mudders argue, she saw the western horizon bulging with clouds. From this small curdle of gray at the rim of the world, she knew a storm was coming. The Mudders saw it too. They knew they must hurry before rain stole the trail. In thedistance, a rare group of six deer bounded across the grassland. Yet the Mudders paid no attention. They must strongly wish to find the Reevers. The group split up, trying three directions, one of which displeased Loon greatly. The woman with silver in her hair set out with four strong men toward the hideaway where Spar waited.
    Loon slithered down the hillock and ran along the bottom of the gully, pushing herself to her best speed. She couldn’t outrun a horse, but the Mudders would travel slowly even by horse, looking for the trail, difficult to see in the hardpan of the plain. They would look for trampled grass as well—the Reevers stomped grass like buffalo despite Spar’s lessons, and, once, a beating. How could they be rich if they knew so little? Far away thunder growled. Loon ran harder, easing into a rhythmic lope, running on rocks whenever she found them, trying to mask her passage. Despite the pursuit of the Mudders, she ran with exuberance. She liked this Reever man, with his good smells and his mud-tinged lips.
    Approaching the abandoned farm, she stopped and crept to the top of the rise to check for the Mudders. To her shock, they were just entering the farm gates. As soon as they dismounted, they found the tracks they were looking for. The leader pointed to the barn. That was a mistake.
    Sprinting, Loon scampered to the side of the main