to wonder what his boys had brought back.
He saw too that Eeluk hovered nearby, pretending to brush down his pony. This from a bondsman who let his mare’s tail grow thick with mud and thorns. Yesugei knew Eeluk well enough to sense his sour mood was directed at the boys rather than himself. He would have shrugged if he had not adopted a warrior’s stillness. As it was, he dismissed Eeluk’s concerns from his mind.
Khasar and Kachiun dismounted in such a way that Temujin was hidden for a moment. Yesugei watched closely and saw in a flash that Temujin’s tunic was moving. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation. Still, he would not make it too easy for them.
“You have a sister, though the birth was harder for your absence. Your mother was almost blood lost with fear for you.”
They did lower their gazes at that. He frowned, tempted to thrash each one of them for their selfishness.
“We were at the red hill,” Kachiun murmured, quailing under his father’s gaze. “Temuge saw an eagle there and we climbed for the nest.”
Yesugei’s heart soared at the news. There could only be one thing squirming at Temujin’s breast, but he hardly dared hope for it. No one in the tribe had caught an eagle for three generations or more, not since the Wolves had come down from the far west. The birds were more valuable than a dozen fine stallions, not least for the meat they could bring from hunting.
“You have the bird?” Yesugei said to Temujin, taking a step forward.
The boy could not hold back his excitement any longer, and he grinned, standing proudly as he fished around inside his tunic.
“Kachiun and I found two,” he said.
His father’s cold face broke at this and he showed his teeth, very white against his dark skin and wispy beard.
Gently, the two birds were brought out and placed in their father’s hands, squalling as they came into the light. Temujin felt the loss of their heat next to his skin as soon as they were clear. He looked at the red bird with an owner’s eyes, watching every movement.
Yesugei could not find words. He saw that Eeluk had come closer to see the chicks, and he held them up, his face alight with interest. He turned to his sons.
“Go in and see your mother, all of you. Make your apologies for frightening her and welcome your new sister.”
Temuge was through the door of the ger before his father had finished speaking, and they all heard Hoelun’s cry of pleasure at seeing her youngest son. Kachiun and Khasar followed, but Temujin and Bekter remained where they were.
“One is a little smaller than the other,” Temujin said, indicating the birds. He was desperate not to be dismissed. “There is a touch of red to his feathers and I have been calling him the red bird.”
“It is a good name,” Yesugei confirmed.
Temujin cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “I had hoped to keep him, the red bird. As there are two.”
Yesugei looked blankly at his son. “Hold out your arm,” he said.
Temujin raised his arm to the shoulder, puzzled. Yesugei held the pair of trussed chicks in the crook of one arm and used the other to press against Temujin’s hand, forcing his arm down.
“They weigh as much as a dog, when they are grown. Could you hold a dog on your wrist? No. This is a great gift and I thank you for it. But the red bird is not for a boy, even a son of mine.”
Temujin felt tears prickle his eyes as his morning’s dreams were trampled. His father seemed oblivious to his anger and despair as he called Eeluk over.
To Temujin’s eye, Eeluk’s smile was sly and unpleasant as he came to stand by them.
“You have been my first warrior,” Yesugei said to the man. “The red bird is yours.”
Eeluk’s eyes widened with awe. He took the bird reverently, the boys forgotten. “You honor me,” he said, bowing his head.
Yesugei laughed aloud. “Your service honors me,” he replied. “We will hunt with them together. Tonight we will have music for two eagles
Krystal Shannan, Camryn Rhys