The Nameless Warrior

A Sacrifice Of One Man

Kindra smoothed her hands over her warrior shirt. It was the same shirt she'd worn to the Festival, the top hem stained with blood where Osprey's blade pierced her neck. She carried her father's spear though she wouldn't be allowed to enter with it. But as she walked across the fire circle to Oak's tent, at least she looked like a warrior.

Her Honor Guard walked with her, for all the good it would do once she was inside, and she handed her spear and dagger to Gar as Oak's guards watched.

"Come out alive," Gar said.

She smiled, and kept it plastered on her face as she turned and walked into the chief's tent. Oak was sitting at a table with a small amount of food laid out, as if he were expecting some friendly company. His smile was as fake as hers.

He eyed the beadwork on her shirt. "I suppose it's a celebration then. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your flute."

Kindra bit her tongue to keep from saying something smart and nodded.

"And I see betrothed life agrees with you. Already it tempers that tongue."

"If you called me in to congratulate me, I'll go now." She began to turn, but his guard stepped in front of the door.

"Not so fast. If you concede and will be married, I want you to call off your men. We'll put this nonsense behind us."

Kindra held up her bandaged hand. "I didn't realize it was my men who were attacking you."

Oak glared at her. "I've punished my son for that vile act."

"Oh yes, sent him all the way to Fie Obsid from what I hear." She crossed her arms as brief shock registered on Oak's face. He hid it quickly, but she went on the attack. "Has he gone to sell me, or because he's too cowardly to face me again?"

"My son is not a coward."

"No more than his father."

Oak stood and jabbed the table with his finger. "You need to stop this now, before you tear this tribe apart."

"You've already torn it apart." Her hands dropped to her sides, itching for a weapon. "Those warriors you call mine? They've been planning this for summers. I was as surprised as you were."

"And you expect me to believe you knew nothing of their plans?"

"You were the one who told me about Gar—why would they tell me more?"

He sat again and motioned for her to do the same. When she didn't, he spoke anyways. "Why would you become a warrior if you didn't know their plans?"

Kindra almost laughed. "Did you not meet me as a child? I've always wanted to be a warrior. When my father asked me to train it wasn't because he feared being the last Odion warrior."

Oak thought about that, frowning, while Kindra sat. She wanted to ask about her father, but didn't want to be kicked out yet. There was still too much to find out.

"You do know," she said as she leaned back in the chair, "that if you sell me to the Obsidians the tribe will rise up against you. As a man desperate for peace that seems like a bad idea."

Oak leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "We have nothing else, and you know we can't beat them in a war. Not even with a horse."

"What about food?"

"They were going to share Deer Valley with us. They must have enough food."

He wasn't going to admit he was sending the Obsidians food, then. "Weapons? They've always wanted our iron."