People of the Longhouse Read Online Free

the smoke-colored trunks. One warrior emerges, shoving three girls in front of him. All are beautiful, and have seen perhaps twelve or thirteen summers. The new warrior forces them to join our group.
    No one speaks. We just stare at each other in fear and disbelief. The same thing happened last night. That’s when Agres and her sister arrived. Big Man has made four stops so far. The red quill patterns on the new girls’ capes mark them as Flint People. Was their village also attacked?
    Mother says the warfare must stop. She hates it. Father calls her a “peacemaker,” and it always sounds like an insult.
    Big Man studies the girls carefully, walking around them several times before he nods and hands over a heavy hide sack to the man who brought the girls. The man shakes it, smiles, and disappears into the trees like mist vanishing on a warm day.
    They did not say a word. Have they made this kind of exchange so often they do not need to speak?
    Big Man lifts his hand again, and we march, heading east through the sun-dappled forest.
    “Where’s Mother?”
    “Stop asking, Tutelo!”
    Tears fill my sister’s eyes, but she knows better than to cry out loud. We have each taken a beating for crying. Instead, Tutelo clutches my hand in a death grip and sobs without a sound. My souls shrivel.
    I lean down to whisper, “She’s coming, Tutelo, but we have to stop talking about it, or the bad men will hear us. You don’t want them to know Mother’s coming, do you? If they know she’s coming, they will ambush her. We must be quiet.”
    Tutelo looks up with big, tear-filled eyes. In sudden understanding, she whispers, “All right.”
    As we march deeper into the trees, the scents of rotting wood and damp autumn leaves fill the air. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    I keep praying that Big Man told us the truth: We will all be adopted into new families. We will have lots to eat, and though the work will be hard, our new families will come to love us. In time, Big Man says, we will forget our Standing Stone families and be happy in the Mountain People’s villages. I will become a great hunter, and Tutelo will marry a good man and give the nation healthy sons and daughters.
    Usually, that’s how it works. I have seen many children, taken in warfare, brought to Yellowtail Village and adopted into families. Each is miserable at first, but within a few summers he or she seems genuinely happy. I myself was captured in a war raid. Father says I had seen six or seven moons. He pulled me from the burning wreckage of a longhouse and carried me home to Yellowtail Village. I know no other home, and I love my adopted parents with all my heart. Mother says that no people can create an empire, they must become one, and the best way to do that is to adopt conquered peoples into Standing Stone families and educate them as their own children, without distinction.
    Unfortunately, I am beginning to think that Big Man’s promises of happiness are worthless.
    These are not ordinary warriors. Even I can see that. They wear no clan sashes, and have no visible tattoos. In fact, I can spot places where they have cut off tattoos, or obliterated them. They never call each other by name, which makes me think they are afraid that one of us will later speak that name in the wrong company.
    Broken Teeth trots toward Agres and her sister. All morning long his eyes have sought out Agres, and I do not like the way he looks at her. Agres wears beautiful polished copper earspools, and shell bracelets that click when she walks. She turns away and tries not to notice Broken Teeth’s attention. Instead, she occupies herself with caring for her infant sister. The hungry baby mews constantly. Though Agres keeps placing a wet twist of hide in the infant’s mouth to suck on, the baby just spits it out, wails, and tugs at Agres’ long hair with frantic hands. None of us has had anything to eat, and water only eases the cramps for so long.
    As we walk, the