The woeful sounds of a coyote whining in the dark hills yanked Keech out of sleep. He bolted upright, his heart galloping. He’d been dreaming of Edgar Doyle sitting on the bank of a muddy river and scribbling a solitary note—The skeleton holds the key—into his journal. In his dream, Keech had approached the man to inquire about the note’s meaning. The world is cruel and full of death, the Ranger replied. I have discovered the way to eternal life. Then Keech awoke, almost screaming.
Cramming on his bowler hat, he pulled his pelt tight and walked to the mouth of the cave, his wounded arm aching. Everyone else was still asleep—except for Achilles and the horses, who watched him closely. Keech patted his thigh to call the mutt over, but the animal only tilted his head. A jingle sounded below the dog’s throat, and Keech realized he was hearing the contents of the flat leather pouch tied around Achilles’s neck. Earlier, Keech had wondered if the dog might be carrying treats in that little bag. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Keech rubbed a hand over his swollen eyes. He hadn’t only dreamed about Doyle; his sleep had also been fitful with visions of Sam again, tiptoeing up to the cave, compelling him to keep using the Black Verse, an unnatural fire surging to life before him.
Now the campfire was only a few smoldering cinders. Perhaps he’d only imagined using the spell to stoke the fire, but he could still feel the dream’s potency in his fingertips. The Lost Causes would be safer if Keech used the words. He could control the power. He could.
“It’s time, Keech Blackwood,” said a voice.
Wheeling around, he saw Strong Heart standing between the horses and the burned-out campfire, swaddled in her buffalo robe. Her long hair lay over her shoulders, and her fingers were absently twisting the dark strands.
“Hah-weh, Strong Heart. Time for what?”
“To show me the Fang.”
Keech turned away and stepped out into the snow. “Not now. It’s almost morning, and we need to get back on the trail.”
Strong Heart called after him. “Keech Blackwood, stop! Tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“The Fang of Barachiel. You don’t have it, do you?”
He thought about pressing the lie, but there would simply be no use fibbing. Shame flooded his cheeks as he turned back. “It was Doyle. He betrayed us. He stole the Fang and the amulet shards.”
Silence overtook the girl. Then she murmured, “The elders spent ten years watching over the Fang. They left their homes, their families. The Protectors guarded the doorway without fail. Now you say the dagger has been stolen.”
“We trusted Doyle when we shouldn’t have,” Keech said. “Even after we learned he wants to resurrect his daughter, we trusted him to stand with us.” He realized his arm was throbbing to the pulse of his anger. “I reckon you think we’re all a bunch of fools. After Doyle led your brother to his death, I bet you’d have never trusted him. You hate him as much as we do.”
Strong Heart’s forehead scrunched into a heavy scowl. “No, Keech. I pity him. For the family Red Jeffreys lost and for the feeling that he must betray others to gain back what he’s lost.” She paused for a moment. “But the Fang was entrusted to you. You told the elders you were ready.”
“I was ready.”
Strong Heart gave a loud scolding noise. “Eh-sheh! You should have known.”
“What’s going on?”
Keech turned to see Quinn standing near the campfire. Duck was also awake and listening intently as she rolled up her blanket. All around Quinn’s feet were stick soldiers drawn in the cave dirt—evidence of Quinn’s midnight battle scheming. He slid a boot over his handiwork, rubbing out the conflict with a single sweep.
Keech marched back into the cave to fetch his belongings. “Strong Heart thinks we all lost the Fang on purpose.”
Strong Heart stomped after him. “Hahn-kah-zhee! I did not say that!”
But Keech didn’t want to listen. If he continued arguing, he didn’t know if he could keep his temper.
Quinn glanced up from where he was packing his things. “Does this mean you won’t join us?” he asked Strong Heart.
Still frowning at Keech, Strong Heart said, “Nothing has changed, Quinn Revels. I’ve made a promise to join you and I intend to fulfill it. There is far too much at stake.” She rubbed a hand over her face, then added, “Whatever my path, it is full of stones.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn asked.
Strong Heart didn’t answer at first. Instead, she stepped over to Flower Hunter and examined the eagle feather tied into the pony’s mane. She closed her eyes, as though collecting her next thought. She kept them closed as she explained. “When I was young, my brother took me to a meadow near the Neosho River. He said, ‘Wihtezi, I want to show you something,’ and he showed me a trail of red ants on the ground. We followed the ants for many steps—until their path split into two lines. The path on the left continued across the meadow, but the path on the right stopped at a large pebble. The ants surrounded the stone and began to push it.
“‘Why are they pushing the rock?’ I asked. ‘Why would they not take the other path with their family?’”
Strong Heart opened her eyes. “My brother said to me, ‘The path where the stone sits is their true path, the one that leads to their home, but the stone has tumbled in the way, so the strong ones stay behind to remove it.’ He said, ‘Sometimes, Wah-kahn-dah will place you on a path full of stones. And you must face them to protect your family and your people.’”
A tear rolled down Strong Heart’s face. She wiped her cheek and continued, this time addressing all three of them. “At first, my path led me to you to ensure the safety of the Fang. But now the Fang is no longer safe, so I must find Red Jeffreys and take it back.” She turned wearily to Quinn. “Whatever my path, it is full of stones.”
Quinn pulled off his forage cap. “Then I’ll help you move them.”
“So will I,” added Duck. She looked at Keech, but he didn’t know what to say. He felt out of place, like what Granny Nell might have called a “stick in the mud.” He didn’t know what to do with such isolation, so he tucked it down and forgot he was even feeling it.
After saddling up the horses, the Lost Causes huddled for a small breakfast of dried fruit and deer jerky—part of the scant rations that remained after Black Charlie’s raid. Strong Heart placed some of the jerky in her parfleche, the small buffalo-hide container tied to the back of Flower Hunter.
Once they were done, Quinn stood outside in the morning’s feeble light. “Black Charlie’s gang is still out there,” he said. “I’d be surprised if they ain’t tracking us. We need to get up into the hills.” He gestured to Achilles. “What do you think, boy? Will you show us the way?”
Barking twice, the hound scurried between Quinn’s feet, dashed out of the cave, and plummeted full speed into the heavy snow of the canyon. Before Keech knew it, the dog was headed north, leaving his canine trail in the snow for the gang to pursue.
“That means we best go,” Duck said, so the young riders followed.