For once Djoh wished he had one of the big fortress crossbows, like the one at Oskah’s farm. But the carpenter’s family did well to have the longbows and pikes that mostly hung over the fireplace, except when the local trained band held its annual muster after the harvest. The only time Djoh could remember it mustering any other time was four years ago, and then the rumored band of river pirates never appeared.

“I have a hunting bow, back with my horse. They say I’m a good shot.”

“I hope you speak the truth, two-legs. Otherwise there is little that you can do for me.” The cat’s mindspeak faded away as it slipped into an uneasy sleep.

It took Djoh an hour’s ride and four hours of hunting before he bagged a large badger. He gutted it and threw it on the horse. Hazel wasn’t happy about the extra load but did carry him back to the big cat’s den. He unloaded the badger and dragged it to within reach.

The cat’s mindspeak was even weaker, but Djoh heard the sarcasm clearly. “A nice morsel, two-legs, but I’ll need more than this to Fill my belly.”

“Be thankful for what you have, old grouch. This is the biggest badger I’ve ever seen in these parts. Even for you it should be a meal.”

“Perhaps you speak the truth,” said the cat, between bites that quickly grew lustier. He’d finished less than a third of the badger when he stopped. “I fear my belly has shrunk even more than my eyesight. I still owe you thanks, two-legs.” “Your thanks are weil received, cat-brother, but my name is Djoh, son of Peetuh, not two-legs. What is your name?” Iron Claw paused. He seemed to expect something more, and Djoh ransacked his memory for hints of what it might be. The memory that finally helped him was not of travelers or prairiecats, but of their old tom watching over his mate and her last litter. He also remembered his mother, with tears in her eyes, cleanly breaking the old tom’s neck when he was dying slowly in constant pain.

“I will care for your kittens and your mate while she is nursing them. If you are dying, I will send you quickly to—to Wind.”

The cat’s approval flowed over Djoh like a warm bath, and with it came a name!

“Iron Claw. I am called Iron Claw, and legion have been my mates and kittens. By sharing names and giving the oath, we are now truly brothers.”

Djoh realized that he’d been granted a very special honor by this magnificent creature. He cleared the snow from a patch of ground, sat down on his cloak, and listened to Iron Claw’s tale of its—no, his—flight from the prairie.

During the next week Djoh spent almost as much time hunting as marking trees for his father. He suspected this suited his father well enough. Everyone was on edge around the house. His parents spoke to each other even less than usual, Nee seemed afraid of her father and solicitous of Djoh’s welfare, and Lilia cried at the least provocation. Peetuh ignored his son, and Behtee seemed to avoid being left alone with him.

It wasn’t until one night when his father returned from a trip to town that they had any real conversation.

“How’s the marking and culling coming?”

“Well enough, Father. It’ll probably take another week, though.”

His father looked away. They both knew that it was a three-day job at best. Does he even wonder what I’ve been doing out in the forest all that time? Djoh asked himself. Or doesn’t he care anymore?

Not that Djoh was complaining. Iron Claw was still too weak to hunt. Another couple of weeks, though, would give him back enough strength to seek prey on his own.

“I’m glad you’re doing such a thorough job, Djoh. Just stay away from the river. Heard in town the pirates are out early this year. Big Everly and his crew lost their barge and all their gear to the pirates. Everly was cut up bad, and three of his crew didn’t make it back at all. He says there was more of ’em than he’d seen in one crowd in twenty years of bargin’.

“There’s two other boats missin’ besides. Council’s put out ordei's that no one’s to leave the wharf without permission. They’re thinkin’ of gettin’ all the boats together and makin’ a convoy.”

Djoh whistled. This was more excitement than Blue Springs normally got in ten years. “What about the militia?”

“Council’s callin’ out one man in four, right now. I’m one of ’em, so I’ll be stayin’ in town for a while. Djoh, you’re goin’ to have to come home early and keep an eye out for the womenfolk.”

“I sure will. You don’t think they’ll come out this way, do you?”

“Nope. Ifn I did, I wouldn’t be goin’ into town. We’re ten good miles from the river. No pirate’s goin’ to go that far when there’s better pickin’s right on the river.”

The whole house almost visibly relaxed with the news of Peetuh’s departure. It might give them all time to come to terms with everything that had been said in the bam. Behtee smiled for the first time in a week.

* * *

The next morning, his father was gone even before Djoh was out of bed. The kitchen seemed almost lively, compared with its usual solemnity. Djoh guiltily wondered how it might be if his father didn’t come back from a brush with the pirates. Lame leg aside, he wasn’t as strong or as fast as his father, but he’d learned all the carpentry Peetuh could teach him. Times would be lean for a while, but they would survive.

After breakfast his mother asked him to stay, then chased out his sisters.

“Djoh, I guess you have a right to know the truth about some of what was said in the bam.”

Djoh felt his skin crawling. He was curious, but he wasn’t really sure he wanted that curiosity satisfied.

“Jo”—that was her pet name for him—-“I wasn’t always as ugly as 1 am today.”

“You’re not ugly now, not to me,” said Djoh, almost reflexively. In fact, there was a good deal of truth in his mother’s words. Eighteen years of hard labor had taken their toll. Her hair was limp and streaked with gray, her face blanched and prematurely lined. Yet her neat features and fine bones spoke of a past beauty that had known only a short, fleeting springtime.

“Thank you, Jo. My mirror tells me a grimmer story. But it wasn’t always so. When 1 was Marthuh’s age, I had just as many suitors, if not more, including both your father and Oskah.

“Does that surprise you? That’s one of the reasons your father did so little work for Oskah until lately. Oskah was as unpleasant as a young man as he is now. In spite of his father’s wealth, I’ve always believed I made the right choice, even if I didn’t make it quite freely.

“The tales are true, Djoh. There was someone else. An older man, a bard and storyteller who most likely still wanders these plains. His name was Willee. He rode into Blue Springs on the most beautiful horse anyone in these parts had ever seen. He was a handsome man and he set all the hearts aflutter, whether they’d been spoken for or not!

“It was I who captured his heart. Yes, I say I captured it, because he was a great gentleman. He would not take anything that wasn’t freely given.”

Djoh felt himself blushing. This was the first time he’d talked with his mother as one adult to another.

“After the first time we lay together—no, don’t stop me. It’s about time you knew the truth. Anyway, after that first time he decided to spend the summer in Blue Springs. He was a smith as well as a bard, so Old Garth gladly put him to work.

“That summer was the best time of my life, for all that it’s cost me since. Willee was loving, kind, wise—he told marvelous stories, even though you knew half of them couldn’t be true. I remember particularly the ones he told about an immortal warrior named Milo. Sometimes he even tried to make me believe the horse was a gift from Milo.

“But Willee was restless, and he had your gift—the mindspeak. He showed me that it was a good gift, not the curse we are taught to think it is. That was his undoing.