Tribe: The Red Hand (Tribe Series Book 1) by Kaelyn Ross Read Free Book Online Page B

blood sacrifice had run. Like it or not, Aiden had a point. If she had trusted the Ancestors enough to give such an offering, in return for ensuring that the lion continued pursuing her, how could she fear them?
    “I still don’t like being here.”
    “We won’t be for long,” Aiden said, leading her to a enormous, circular green. Cracked brickwork paved its edge, and the overgrown grassy center was dotted with stone benches resting under old, hoary trees. A quick glance told her the green was easily twice as large as her village. It seemed that everything about the old world had been huge.
    At the center of the green stood a tall metal statue of a stern-faced man looking east. Webs of greenish corrosion covered every inch of him, along with generous splatters of bird droppings on his shoulders and head. A few of the offending birds in question, half a dozen pigeons, cooed and shifted on his shoulders. They were cautious of the two intruders, but not overly frightened. Kestrel wondered if they had seen people here before. If so, who? Brow knotting, she cast a suspicious eye on her brother.
    “You’ve come here before, haven’t you?”
    He started, as if he had not expected her to guess his secret. His face smoothed, and he stopped under a weeping willow, it hanging bows brushing one of the stone benches. “Several times. Now, until I get back, stay here.”
    “Where are you going?” Kestrel demanded, failing to hide her unease that he was planning to leave her.
    “Don’t worry, little sister. You’ll be safe … unless any bears are about to catch the scent of that bloody bundle you’re carrying.”
    Kestrel hugged her prize a little closer. It was beginning to smell ripe. “I’m not afraid of bears.”
    Aiden flashed a smile that was only about half as scornful as usual. “Then sit down and rest. I’ll be back soon.”
    “You still haven’t told me where you’re going.”
    “You’ll know soon enough,” he said, dropping his knapsack on the ground near the bench. With that, he trotted away.
    She watched him until he vanished into a patch of thick bracken and ferns growing between a pair of broken gray buildings on the far side of the green.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Kestrel drained most of her waterskin before taking a seat on the bench, its stone edges softened by time. It was surprisingly comfortable. So comfortable that she could not resist stretching out and looking up at the sky. The longer she rested there, the farther away her fears soared, and she was able to close her eyes and doze.
    She came awake after what felt like just a few minutes, and saw that Aiden had returned. He was stuffing something into his knapsack. She had never seen such a device, but for some reason it sparked a faint memory.
    Kestrel sat up and, for a moment, the world spun around her. “What is that?” she asked after the spinning ceased, and armed her sweat-slicked brow. The fever had come back stronger, and she was thirstier than ever. That worried her, because sometimes the worst sicknesses came in waves, each wave stronger than the last. Home was a long way away, and to feel this miserable made that journey seem insurmountable.
    Aiden drew what he was holding back out of the pack. “It’s a weapon,” he said in a reverent hush.
    Kestrel croaked a laugh. She knew weapons—bows and spears, axes and knives—but what he held looked like nothing more than a piece of old junk, something that even Fat Will, the village blacksmith, would deem useless.
    Aiden scowled. “It is a weapon,” he insisted, holding it up. It was made of black metal with worn areas along prominent edges that gleamed dull gray. The curved grip seemed built to fit into the palm, just as he was holding it, and the other end, a tapered cylinder with long ridges running along its length, all glowing with a sickly green light, stretched a foot or more from his hand.
    As Kestrel studied it, she realized why it was so familiar.