The Edge of Hope
Wrak-Ayya: The Age of Shadows Book Eleven
Leigh Roberts
Dragon Wings Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
A Final Note
Interviews
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2021 Leigh Roberts Author
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Copyright owner.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, creatures, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, creatures, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
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Editing by Joy Sephton http://www.justemagine.biz
Cover design by Cherie Fox http://www.cheriefox.com
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Sexual activities or events in this book are intended for adults.
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ISBN: 978-1-951528-11-9 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-951528-18-8 (paperback)
To those of you who have stayed the course so far, and who will continue on the journey with me, to answering the question—
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What If?
Chapter 1
The cold air bit into Pajackok's face as he steered his horse, Atori, in the direction of the shelter he had built after leaving the Brothers' village for the first time. He looked back at Snana, who was riding Nawaba, making sure she was not having any trouble keeping up. She smiled that she was fine.
When they finally arrived, it was already nightfall. Pajackok pulled the supply bags from his horse and set them down before helping Snana with hers. They had brought warmer tunics, leggings, and foot coverings for their return to the village in a few weeks, by when the cold weather would have taken hold.
Pajackok quickly had a fire going outside the shelter, and they sat in front of it enjoying the warmth, made drowsy by the crackling of the flames and the smell of the charred wood. Tired from their travels, they soon went inside and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning, Snana rolled over to find Pajackok watching her. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long. We were both too tired even to consummate our bonding!"
"I think I fell asleep the minute we lay down. I am sorry!" said Snana.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, enjoying the feel of her soft hair brushing his nose. "I am going to start a fire outside. Come when you are ready. The temperature has already dropped again."
Pajackok exited the shelter and then stopped short. He surveyed the camp, and only now in the light of day did he realize that someone had been there while they were away at the village.
He quickly walked around, noticing that baskets had been moved and some of the firewood from the stack had been used. Luckily, the food stores he and Snana had gathered were barely touched. But, clearly, someone had been in their camp.
Just then, Snana came up behind him, a woven blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
"Someone was here," she said. "My medicine stores have been gone through, though it looks as if nothing was removed."
"Please stay close to the shelter today," Pajackok replied. "I am going to look for tracks."
Snana sat down by the fire to warm herself while her life-walker left to look around the area.
He returned after a short while. "There are horse tracks. And they are Waschini."
"At least they did not destroy anything. Perhaps they just needed a place to stay on their travels?" Snana said, trying to keep her voice lighthearted.
Pajackok nodded, though his forehead was still creased in a frown. "They are not fresh. But still, stay close to home; I will take care of anything that needs doing. At least for a few days, please."
Snana nodded and went back to huddling around the fire. She let out a long sigh and reached her feet out from under the blanket so they would warm faster. Our homecoming is marred by these intruders; I pray they do not return.
Several days passed without incident, then one morning, Pajackok left the shelter only to find fresh footprints around the camp. He went back in to throw on a tunic and grab a hatchet before going out to follow them. The tracks led up to a nearby ridge where there was evidence that several horses had been tied up. Pajackok frowned, angry with himself. A stranger had been walking around their camp sometime in the middle of the night. Surely the ponies must have nickered, yet he had not woken.
He returned to check on Snana, who was just waking up. She stretched and reached out for him.
"I am going to take Atori for a ride, and I will be back shortly; please stay inside."
Snana sat up. "What is wrong?"
"Waschini footprints in the dusting of snow this morning. I followed them to where they left on horseback."
Snana wrapped her blanket more closely around her. "May I come with you?"
"Hurry," he said and waited for her to throw on some warmer wraps and thicker foot coverings.
The two mounted up and followed the tracks up to the ridge. They followed the trail for a short distance, then, confident the Waschini were no longer in the area, returned home.
"We need to leave," Pajackok proclaimed as he dismounted. "It is no longer safe here."
"I do not want to leave," she said, eyes downcast. "Not yet. It looks as if they have left. If they wanted to hurt us, they would have done so last night while we were sleeping."
Pajackok let out a long breath. "It is not safe, Snana. We are leaving in the morning."
Snana secured Nawaba, turned on her heels, and walked off. She busied herself the rest of the day with trying to think of a way to change his mind. She wanted some time for themselves before returning to the village with all its distractions.
The next morning, as Snana was starting the fire, she heard a horse snort and turned to see three Waschini men watching her from the ridge she and Pajackok had inspected the day before. One of the horses pawed the ground in impatience, perhaps objecting to the cold.
Snana did not move, but her eyes darted around the perimeter of the camp; Pajackok could not be far away. She knew the Waschini had seen her, and so she rose to her feet. Using what she remembered of the Whitespeak her mother had taught her, and hoping Pajackok would hear, she called out. "Welcome. Are you in need of food? Or warmth?" She glanced down at the fire and swept her hand toward it before looking back up at them.
Two of the three Waschini grinned and exchanged glances. A chill crawled up Snana's spine.
One of the men snapped his reins, and they all started down the slight rise of the ridge, horses carefully picking their way down the incline. She kept her eyes pinned on them and felt a small trickle of relief when she heard rustling in the undergrowth and knew it had to be Pajackok returning.
The three men looked close in age and were wearing typical Waschini clothing with hats and leather boots. The
y all seemed scruffy—as if they had been on the road for some time.
The first man muttered something to the second and pointed to where Pajackok had just emerged from the brush.
Pajackok thrust his stack of branches to the ground, where they scattered next to him. He dusted off his hands, felt for the hatchet at his waistband, and strolled over to Snana as he addressed the men. "Why are you here? What do you want?" he called out, on the off-chance they might understand him.
Snana stood frozen as she listened to their next words.
"Too bad he showed up. Looks like he's going to spoil our fun," said the first man.
"Oh, I don't think one local is going to stop the three of us," the second grinned.
The third man spoke up, "Stop it. Stop talking like that. We're going to continue on our way and leave them be."
"Who put you in charge?" frowned the first.
"They’re not bothering anyone, and we aren’t going to bother them. It was wrong enough that we entered their camp last night. I should never have allowed it.”
“Look at all this land,” said the second man, gesturing. “What use is it to them? All they do on it is hunt. It could be worth a fortune.”
“As long as Pa isn’t with us, I’m in charge, and you’d best remember it,” the third man said. “Now, let’s move on.” He turned his horse and started away from the camp. “No doubt Ma is worrying why we’re taking so long to get home.”
“They’d better get used to us coming through. It’s just a matter of time before we own this land,” said the second.
“Enjoy it while you can,” the first man called out to Snana and Pajackok as he finally turned to follow the others.
Snana stood frozen while she watched them slowly ride away. Pajackok did not move either, still prepared for the men to change their minds and return.
After the Waschini were well out of sight, he glanced at Snana. “I believe the one on the darkest horse convinced them to leave us alone.”
“I could make out what they were saying,” she said.
“You could?”
“Mother taught us Whitespeak, remember. She is half Waschini. One of them was saying they will be taking the land from us,” she said.
“Take the land from us? No one owns the land.” He shook his head.
“I think they meant me harm.” She lowered her eyes before looking up at her life-walker.
“We cannot stay here; we must return to the village. I know you wanted to stay longer, but we cannot chance their returning. There will be a full moon for the next few nights; we should leave before twilight.”
Snana nodded her agreement.
They spent the rest of the day repacking, and she prepared a robust meal using some of their stored food. She would pack up the rest of the unused provisions to take with them.
Though they were leaving for good, Snana straightened up what was to be left behind. She restacked the woodpile and gathered up the branches Pajackok had gathered for kindling, placing them out of the open behind the rest of the wood. She also tidied up inside, smoothing out their footprints as she backed through the opening.
Standing just outside, Snana took one last long look around their shelter, the shelter Pajackok had built. The one he had brought her to against her will. This was where his relentless kindnesses had won her heart. This was where they had proclaimed their love for each other. This was the place where she had first given herself to him, body and soul. Before she turned away, she said a prayer to the Great Spirit that perhaps it would help someone else in need in the future, maybe a weary traveler who would come across it and be grateful.
Pajackok loaded the carrying bags onto the horses. Then they took one last look at what had been their home and started back the way they had come.
As Pajackok and Snana entered the Brothers’ village, they were again greeted by children running toward them. This time, there were no concerned stares or worried expressions, and they rode right into the middle of the village where Chief Is’Taqa soon arrived to greet them.
“We did not expect you back so soon,” he said. “But I am glad you have returned home. Are you staying now?”
Snana dismounted and went to greet her father. “Yes, now we are back for good.”
“Your mother and siblings will be pleased,” the Chief replied.
Snana looked at Pajackok, waiting for him to tell her father what had happened. Then she realized that such a conversation should be held in private. “I will go and find Momma and let you talk,” she said, calling out to the children as she left. They happily skipped along behind her.
“There was some trouble,” Pajackok said, very gravely. The Chief nodded and motioned for the brave to follow him.
Once they were alone in Is’Taqa’s shelter, Pajackok turned to the Chief, “There were Waschini men at our camp. They had entered it and left again before we arrived. Then they returned and prowled around outside while we were sleeping.”
Chief Is’Taqa frowned. “Is there more?”
“Yes.” And Pajackok described the confrontation and their subsequent decision to leave early.
“A wise move. Thank you for protecting my daughter; I believe Snana has chosen well,” Is’Taqa said, looking Pajackok squarely in the eye.
“Snana could make out their Whitespeak. She said they mentioned taking our land from us.”
The Chief sighed deeply. “Come, let us get you both something to eat.” He motioned for one of the braves to tend to the ponies. “You can share our shelter tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss whether you would like your own shelter, such as Oh’Dar and Acise have.”
The two men walked off in silence.
Chapter 2
Oh’Dar had a lot of thinking time available as he and his grandparents made their way toward the Brothers’ village. The farther away from Shadow Ridge they traveled, the more he relaxed. He could hear his grandmother and Ben chatting to each other on their horses as they traveled side by side behind him. Occasionally he looked back to see if they needed a break.
Though the weather was cooler, the trip had been uneventful. Ben took advantage of their time together to teach Oh’Dar more about navigating with the businessmen he was likely to encounter, such as bankers and storekeepers. He and Miss Vivian also told Oh’Dar more about Shadow Ridge's history, how the land had been fairly acquired by Oh’Dar’s grandfather, though that was not always the case. Much was simply claimed through homesteading without regard for the locals’ right to the land they’d always depended on.
As the travelers passed the smaller towns between Shadow Ridge and their destination, they stopped and camped for the night. Oh’Dar would ride into the town to pick up what provisions he could find. No one paid him much notice, no more than any other stranger, and all were very hospitable once they learned he had money to spend. He made sure to keep on good terms with everyone he met, not wanting to raise suspicion. He’d planned this as carefully as he could, needing to ensure there were no foul-ups.
He returned from his latest trip into a little town later than he intended. When he arrived, he found Ben and his grandmother sitting comfortably in front of a crackling fire. They looked up at the sound of Beauty’s approaching hoofbeats.
Oh’Dar dismounted and took a while to tend to the horse. When that was done, he grabbed the saddlebags and walked over to Ben and Miss Vivian.
“Here you go,” he said as he reached into the satchel and retrieved a parcel for his grandmother.
“Oh, what have we here?” Her eyes lit up.
She undid the knot that secured the rough packaging and opened it, angling it toward the firelight so she could see what was inside. “Oh,” she said as she made out a collection of sweets, nuts, and dried jerky.
She handed out the jerky between them and tightly rewrapped the paper sack.
“I wish I could have brought you a home-cooked meal,” Oh’Dar said.
“Thank you, but we’re fine. I could certainly stand to lose a littl
e weight, Grayson,” she smiled.
The biscuits from Mrs. Thomas had disappeared days before, but it didn’t matter; they were in good spirits over their new adventure.
Ben looked up at the twinkling stars overhead. “No cloud cover; we’re going to lose heat from the land overnight.”
“I’ll pick up some more blankets in the next town,” Oh’Dar said. “I’m not tired; I’ll be glad to stay up and tend the fire for a while yet. Why don’t you two try to get some sleep.”
Ben turned to his wife, “Do you want to sleep in the wagon tonight, or here by the fire?”
Miss Vivian said, “Let’s try here; the fire is so comforting. If we get cold, we can move inside.”
Ben nodded, “Wake me when you get sleepy, son; I can take over from there.”
After placing blankets on all the horses, Ben unpacked their own and spread them out over a dry spot not too far from the fire, trying to pick a place that naturally provided some cushioning. Once he had them arranged, he reached his hand out to help Miss Vivian up from the log she was sitting on.
She made a little oopf sound as he helped her to her feet. After brushing off the back of her skirt, she picked her way over to the sleeping places Ben had prepared.
Once Miss Vivian was comfortable, Ben covered her up and moved close to help keep her warm. She reached back to pat him and said good night. In the distance, coyotes started their evening calls. Oh’Dar sat for a long time tending to the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames against the dark night. The familiar smell of the burning wood reminded him of the family night fires at the Brothers’ Village. His thoughts drifted ahead to seeing his life-walker again and how happy he and Acise would be. He tried to imagine how his grandparents would feel stopping over at the village—if they’d feel as out of place as he had when he first came into the Waschini world. Though he was confident the Brothers would be kind to them, he knew it would still be a huge adjustment. I hope I haven’t made a mistake. I hope I haven’t gotten them into something that will ultimately prove to be too much for them.
The Edge of Hope: Wrak-Ayya: The Age of Shadows Book Eleven Page 1
