Feather Read Online Free Page A

some food. One of those parties stumbled on you and Feather.”
    “But Blens don’t take children,” Weave said uneasily, and they all looked at the young mother. She was holding her baby close now, and all could see fear in her face.
    Karsh knew what they all knew. The Blens moved fast and hit hard. When they attacked a village, they killed all the children and old people—anyone who would slow them down. Sometimes they captured prisoners to work for them and strengthen their numbers.
    Weave’s husband, Neal, one of the younger men, stepped over to her and took the little boy from her arms. “Feather is old enough to keep up and be of use to them,” he said. “She can fetch wood and carry their burdens. She can dry food and cook for them. And if they are clever, they will soon learn that she has other skills.”
    Karsh’s heart sank. If the Blens learned that Feather had mastered the art of fletching, they would never let her go. Rand made straight, smooth arrow shafts of young tree shoots, but it was Feather who made them sing as they flew through the air. Her small hands allowed her to glue and bind the feathers to the shafts without marring them. All the elders agreed that Feather was more skillful at the craft than any of them.
    “We will post an extra guard,” Jem said. “We must not lose any more of our people.
    “I’ll go now,” Hunter offered. “Shea, Neal, you come relieve me and Hardy when the sun meets the western ridge.”
    “Please!” Karsh said. The men all stared at him, and he lowered his gaze.
    “What would you have us do?” Hunter asked. “The Blens are still about.”
    “It is too dangerous to venture outside this valley, boy.” Rand’s voice was much harsher than Hunter’s, and Karsh cringed at his tone and reproachful stare.
    “After the evening meal we will talk again,” Alomar said, and the men all nodded. “We must keep sentries posted all night though, as long as the Blens are near.”
    “And no cooking fires,” Rand added, looking toward Rose and Tansy.
    Rose nodded. She had already let the fire die down under the stew pot as soon as Karsh told her Feather had been captured. She had known to allow no smoke to escape the valley and betray their presence.
    The enforced wait made Karsh chafe almost unbearably. It was wrong! They needed to go after Feather now, not wait for the Blens to move away from the village. That might be too late for Feather. He wanted to go after her himself, even if the men would not go, but he knew that would be foolish. Most likely he would be captured himself or killed if he invaded the Blens’ camp. He looked up the hillside, to the meadow where the flock grazed. Maybe he would walk up there and talk to Cricket, the boy who watched the handful of sheep and goats.
    But Alomar called to him.
    “Keep your hands busy, boy.”
    Karsh nodded. “What shall I do?”
    “No hammering of metal today. The sound carries. But you can work on the leather or help Weave make thread.”
    Karsh sighed. Those were tedious jobs, working hides until they were soft, flexible leather and twisting plant fibers and wool into long, tough threads that Weave could use on her loom to make clothing.
    The afternoon dragged. Over and over, Karsh rolled wisps of wool against his thigh, forming a continuous strand of yarn. He tried to make it smooth, all of the same thickness. It took patience and concentration. As he worked, his heart wept for Feather. When the sun was low, Shea and Neal headed for their guard posts, and Karsh put the fleece and ball of yarn away. Hardy and Hunter soon returned to camp, reporting that they had seen no sign of the outlanders.
    After a cold supper, the people gathered around the fire pit. Karsh didn’t know why they sat there when there was no fire, but it was their usual place of council in warm weather. In winter all their meetings were held in the dark lodge.
    A chilly breeze blew down the valley, and Rose brought a woolen blanket and put