The days stretched, and the moon turned, and there was still no sign of Olfan. Kyma learned why the tribe was so worried. Another larger tribe with many warriors was raiding in the east. They had taken territory and were driving the koryos bands west.

  Most young men would only pledge to the koryos for half a year, but there were always some who could not shake off the wolf. They would remain like beasts, raiding and killing. Sometimes they would help the tribe, defending it and hunting for it, but always on the outside. Other times, the koryos bands would range far, into foreign lands, taking cattle and women as they pleased. There were old wolves with the koryos, not just young men, and they were dangerous.

  The raiding tribe from the east was pushing foreign koryos bands into the tribe’s grazing lands. Kyma’s tribe was strong for its size, but it was not large. A koryos band with no ties to their tribe would be dangerous. The possibility had everyone on edge. The warriors rode in groups and did more scouting than normal. Fear caused tempers to flare within the tribe. Fear for Olfan made Kyma do something rash.

  Just before sunrise, she packed a sack with dried meat and a waterskin, grabbed a few more necessary items, and slipped out of the settlement. She found Tolus in the spot where they usually met to talk.

  “I heard the men say that there was a koryos band to the south, near the kurgan. They think it is our koryos, and if it is, my brother may be with them. I have to see if I can bring him home. We need the warriors. I thought… maybe, you could come with me? I would be grateful for the company and extra eyes to keep watch, and when we are close to the kurgan, you can look for your door home. This way, I can help you get home, and you can help me find my brother. No imbalance.” Kyma watched Tolus’ face as the words tumbled out in a rush. She needed to find her brother, needed to know if he was alive, needed to bring him home, but she didn’t want to go alone. She leaned on her stolen spear, gripping it with two hands as if it were the only thing holding her up. It was tipped with a leaf-shaped copper spearhead.

  Kyma knew she would be in trouble when she returned. The metal spearhead on her spear was precious, but to her, it was worth it. Her brother was more precious by far. She loved him for his goofy smile and good-natured teasing, but it was more than that. He was her father’s son. He would be chieftain. She had a younger brother now, but he was still so young that he didn’t have a name yet, and there was no guarantee that he would live long enough to receive one. Olfan was the strong promise for the tribe’s future. They needed him.

  She looked down, shifting from foot to foot. Tolus was taking too long to answer, and she didn’t want to see him shake his head ‘no’. She didn’t want to go alone, but she would. It scared her to disobey her parents, to go out where there were predators and enemies, but she would do it.

  “I’ll come,” Tolus said, and Kyma’s shoulders relaxed.

  Tolus rode on her shoulder as they made their way south. Running, she covered ground much faster than the caravan of wagons and carts had moved coming north. It had taken two days for the caravan to reach their summer home after passing the kurgan, but Kyma was sure she could get back to it in only one if she ran. She was young, barely on the edge of womanhood, and still full of a child’s energy. Her mother’s spell called the wind to speed her on her way.

  The sun was already below the horizon, leaving only a fading glow to show the mound of the kurgan by the time they came in sight of it. Kyma was breathing hard, and her legs trembled like grass in a breeze. She dropped down in the lee of a boulder, unable to go any farther. Running wore on her body, but calling the wind to speed her wore on her spirit. She had expended her pool of power and let it refill only to use it all again several times during the day. She was exhausted in mind, body, and soul. Almost as soon as she was seated with her back against the boulder, she fell asleep.

  Shouting and the clashes of weapons woke her. Tolus had climbed up the boulder and was watching to the south, where the sounds originated. The sun was only just breaking the horizon to the east, but the low hollow on the sheltered side of the boulder was still in deep shadow. Groggy from sleep, it took a moment for her to remember where she was, but as soon as her thoughts cleared, Kyma scrambled around the boulder to see what was going on.

  Two groups of warriors clashed in a chaotic brawl. They were too far away for Kyma to make out any faces. Both groups wore ragged wolf-pelt cloaks, marking them as Koryos. Her heart leapt with the hope that she’d found her brother, and her stomach clenched in fear as she watched the bloody exchange. They fought with spears and swords and axes.

  “Kyma, you wake? Good. Hard to be sure, I think they move this way. We should take care,” Tolus said. “Why do they fight?”

  Kyma looked around, but the boulder she hid behind was alone on the open steppe. There were a few smaller rocks, but none large enough to conceal her. The path to the kurgan wasn’t too far away, and the stelae that lined it were large enough to hide her, but there was a lot of open space between her and the first of the ornately carved marker stones. If she had to move, she would be visible in the open.

  As she looked, she answered Tolus’ question, “They are Koryos, wolf-touched. They are boys coming into manhood, and they are men who cannot shake off the viciousness of the wolf spirit. All young men of the tribes spend a little time in the Koryos. They learn to be warriors, seek wealth and women, live like wild things, but only for a little while before they come home and marry and become part of the tribe again. For some, they take the wolf too deeply into themselves. They love the wildness and killing too much, so they remain with the Koryos all their lives. Each tribe has a Koryos band, and for the Koryos, any tribe that isn’t theirs is potential prey. I think… I think this may be our Koryos protecting our lands from a foreign band, but I can’t see them well enough to be certain.”

  She watched the struggling figures for a few moments and judged the distance. The stele were closer to the fight. If she could move to the path, she could sprint between the stones to get closer and get a better look. The sun was still low in the sky, making long shadows. The warriors had their attention on their foes. Surely she could make it to the first stele without being noticed. She had to know if Olfan was among them. She told Tolus her plan. He looked skeptical, but he couldn’t offer any better ideas.

  Crouching low, she ran for the first marker stone on the path. It was a long, nerve-wrecking distance to be out in the open, especially when she was getting closer to the clashing warriors with every step. Tolus rode on her shoulder, his hands tightly twined in her braid. For this sprint, she didn’t use her mother’s spell. It seemed better to save that trick in case she needed to flee.

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  Behind the stele, she knelt, hands on knees, breath coming hard, and her heart beating like a drum in her chest. When she had her breathing under control, she peeked around the side of the stone. They still weren’t close enough. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to the stele, whispering the ritual greeting to her ancestors. She added a plea for their aid before making the short dash to the next stone.

  Dashing from stone to stone, she made her way closer. As she reached the fourth stone, a bloody-faced warrior rounded the stele to block her path. She raised her spear, but he batted it aside with the stone axe he held. Nimble as an antelope, she danced back and brought the spear back into line, bracing herself for a fight, but then the warrior spoke.

  “Kyma! What are you doing here? Are you trying to get killed?”

  “Olfan?”

  “You need to go.”

  “You need to come home.”

  Olfan snarled in frustration and punched the stone. “I have been trying to. There is a warlord to the east. He calls himself Hrewp-Herkos. He’s conquering tribes and is forging them into a great army. He pushes towards our lands, and he will roll right over us. We have been fighting his raiders, and the Koryos bands he has displaced, and some days it seems that even the lands and the beasts are against us. Did our runner not make it to warn Father?”

  “No.” Her answer was immediate, but then she reconsidered, “Well, maybe. I didn’t see a runner, but Father had us settle farther west than usual. Everyone has been on edge all summer. I don’t know.”

  “Then you need to take word back to him, to be certain. You must make sure he knows that the Rending Bear is coming, and the only way wolves can stand against a bear is as a pack. Tell him that we’ve spoken to the Horse tribe to the west, and they are willing to help, but he must send a man of the tribe to speak with them. We are Koryos, and can’t speak for the tribe. Tell him that I am fighting for the tribe, and I’m trying to come home.” Olfan put his left hand on her shoulder, and Kyma could see the war of emotions on his face and feel the slight tremble in his hand. He wanted to be just her brother for a moment and pull her in for a hug, but he had to maintain the dignity of a warrior. His face firmed to stone, and he pulled back his hand. “Now go, before anyone else sees you. The tribe must have a warning.”

  “Olfan,” Kyma started to argue with her brother, but stopped herself. He was right. She wanted her brother home and safe, but if what he said was true, they were all in danger, and even home wasn’t safe. Instead of speaking her heart, she held out the spear to him. “That axe is chipped away to nothing. Take this. It’s not the bronze spear you deserve, but it’s better than that thing.”

  He took the spear and flashed her a smile. It was a tired, grim smile, but there was still a hint of the cocky, teasing grin she remembered. Shouts and the clash of weapons interrupted whatever he’d been about to say as the fight drew closer to their hiding place. “I’ll put it to good use,” he said. “Now go, fast as you can.”

  The copper spearhead flashed red in the morning light as he rounded the sheltering stone and dove back into the fray with a roar, pulling eyes to him and away from his sister. She had more she wanted to say, but he’d acted as a distraction enough times when they played pranks that she knew what he was doing now. She couldn’t let it go to waste.

  Crouching low, she retraced her path away from the fight, moving from stone to stone. Tolus was there on her shoulder, and she realized that she had completely forgotten about his presence.

  “How did you do that? Olfan didn’t even see you, did he? I know you were still there, but for those few moments, it seemed like you weren’t.”

  “A gift of my people. I wish we had more time to speak of it, but I recognize this place. The doorway I look for is near. We must part here,” Tolus’ voice held a hint of regret as he spoke. “There is still imbalance between us. I owe you for all you have done for me. I will find a way to help you, but there are things I must see to in my land first.”

  “I am sad to see you go, but I’m glad I was able to help you get home. Safe travels, my friend,” Kyma said, blinking back tears. She didn’t want him to go, but she’d known that he would. Tears would not change reality.

  She crouched down and lowered her arm to give Tolus a ramp to the ground. He scrambled down. He gave her a smile and a jaunty wave, and vanished into the tall grass. Kyma suddenly felt very alone.

  She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. She had a full day of running ahead of her and no time to waste. Her tribe had to be warned. She was at the last stele on the path. There would be a long sprint across open ground before she was out of sight of the two fighting bands of warriors.

  With a deep breath, she focused her spirit and chanted her mother’s spell, calling the wind to speed her feet. As she felt her will snag the wind, she pushed forward, her feet flying across the ground. The wind pushed against her back, filling her legs with energy to make running feel effortless.

  There was a shout from behind her, and the euphoria of speed was violently ended by an explosion of stabbing pain in her side. She stumbled, caught herself, and looked down. The point of a javelin jutted from the side of her belly. The pain was like flames running down into her legs and up along her spine. She couldn’t stop, though, couldn’t let the wound slow her, wouldn’t, absolutely refused to let herself fail.

  She pushed the javelin out. It wasn’t much more than a sharpened stick; there was no head on it to snag and cut. Her legs kept moving as she pressed her hand over the wound in her belly, knowing that the blood would just flow out of the one she couldn’t reach. She didn’t stop.

  Father, Mother, her baby brother, and all her Aunties and Uncles and cousins of the tribe depended on her. If they didn’t get Olfan’s message, they would all die. She kept going. She called the wind to push her. She slogged on at barely a crawl. Her second wind would come, and she’d fly again. The sun passed its crest in the sky and dropped toward its bed in the west.

  Her vision grew blurry, and her thoughts fogged. Her side burned and froze and burned again. Her legs felt like logs, but she kept moving them. The sun sank behind the western hills, but she thought she could see the campfires of the settlement just ahead, so she pressed on.

  There was a shout, and suddenly she was being lifted. One of her uncles held her in his arms like he had when she was a child. He was yelling, but she couldn’t make out the words. The world was fading out, turning to shades of gray around the edges. There were blurs and motion, light and voices, and cool water on her lips. The world faded out.

  It faded back in again, and she was lying on a blanket near one of the fires. Her mother was there, tear-tracks striping her cheeks. She was packing the wound in Kyma’s side with herbs and was chanting prayers to all the spirits and ancestors. Father was there, sitting beside her, one of her hands held tight in his huge one.

  “Father, I found him,” she croaked, “I found Olfan. He said… I have to tell you…”

  “Hush. Hush, Little Bird. Be easy. You are home, you are safe. Your Mother will heal you, and you’ll be alright.” The lie in his words was obvious. His voice and face were both full of despair.

  “Have to tell you… Danger coming…” It was hard to speak, but she forced the words out. She told him about the warlord and the offer of the Horse Tribe. She told him about Olfan, and that he was trying to come home, and that he was a true warrior of the tribe. She coughed, and her father gave her water. She could feel herself slipping away, but the same iron will that had kept her running all day wouldn’t let her go before she’d warned them, and given them hope.

  But she gave her warning, she gave them hope, and then the world went gray again, and then black, and it didn’t come back.