Red Hands

Part Three: Tainted

     The drums beat a frenzied tune as the bonfires reached up and almost touched the sky. Red Hands danced around the flames, her unwashed hands still extended towards the heavens. Let the Composer see what she had done to His champion. No one would defy the Great Lion and the Tribe, lest the same be done to them.

Her smile widened as she felt the thud of Iesuah's teeth against her chest. They jostled to the beat as Red Hands twirled. She raised her voice in a wild cry. 

She spun around the corner of the pit and collided with another reveler. Their heads knocked against each other, which elicited a simultaneous yelp from both of them.

The man reached out his hands to steady her. "So sorry, Red Hands."

She shrugged off his gesture but still returned his smile. "The fault is mine, Bear."

His eyes drifted down to her hands, which were still streaked with crimson. "I see you still wear the warrior's marks from your battle."

She held them up to display them. "Why would I wash them away so quickly when they are the reason we celebrate tonight?"

Bear's grin widened, but a horn interrupted their conversation. All eyes of the Tribe turned to the outdoor dais. Wolf stood there, his arms extended to either side, while the musicians beside him continued their fanfare.

"People of the Tribe, it has come for us to give Iesuah the burial of a traitor."

Several warriors carried Iesuah's corpse out from the treeline. Red Hands cheered and clapped along with her fellow Tribe mates.

Until she heard someone whisper in her ear, so close that she could almost feel their breath against her skin.

"Talitha," it whispered. "It is for you."

Red Hands gasped and whirled around, her teeth already bared. She reached for her new dagger at her waist, but there was no one to stab. The nearest person was Fox, and the elderly lady could never have produced the masculine voice Red Hands had heard.

Bear reached out and touched her shoulder. "Did you hear something?"

Red Hands scanned the crowd, her body tense, like a cheetah before it pounces. "...No. I thought perhaps...but no."

The warriors carrying Iesuah's body marched closer to the crowd, which parted to clear a path towards the middle. With every step they took, Wolf's countenance brightened. His sneer almost seemed joyful, if there could be such a thing.

"Tonight, we honor the tradition of the Tribe by burning the traitor. They will receive no warrior's rites or river burial." Wolf raised his arms higher as the crowd's hysteria escalated. "This is the punishment that all traitors deserve. May the Great Lion feast tonight on the Lamb's spirit!"

The cacophony became overwhelming as the warriors hurled Iesuah's body, stretcher and all, into the flames. The bonfire exploded as the wooden altar acted as new kindling. Red Hands staggered backwards as the heat pounded against her face with a fury. It threatened to scald her, and she cradled her face as she dropped to her knees.

And the smell...she gagged as the new aroma assaulted her with just as much ferocity as the heat. How to explain it—her brain could make no sense of it. There was nothing like the aroma: so sickly sweet but yet so utterly disgusting and overwhelming, so pungent that it seemed to pervade her mouth until she could almost taste it. A few weaker members of the Tribe retched or gagged. Red Hands steeled every muscle in her body against her revulsion and managed to keep the contents of her stomach down.