SPIRIT WALKER

Chapter 18: The Burn of Love (part 2 of 2)

"I said nothing of love!" Scandal countered. "I was talking about lust, pure and wholesome."

"You spoke of devotion, and devotion is purer than love!"

Scandal scratched his head. "Oh, that. You can't blame a man for trying."

"I can," Tirilee said. "I want devotion from the man I give myself to."

"A lifetime of devotion for a single night of pleasure?" Scandal asked. "Only a thief would demand so much! Yet you'd take it, wouldn't you? You'll demand it and then devote your own time to your trees. It's in your nature."

"I can fight my nature," Tirilee said weakly, as if the conversation had worn her. She turned away, pulled her blanket tight against her pale white throat.

Wisteria thought long on it. Over the past days she had felt tenderness for Tull, a warming, and she had been playing house—treating him as if they were both newlyweds in love. But it would be a big mistake to believe I'm really in love, she thought. I too must fight my nature. I must remember my hatred, nurse it.

Pushing the wagon through the mountains was harder than the men expected, yet they moved more swiftly than they had imagined. Poor old Snail Follower had taken them to the summit of the mountains on only the second day of the journey, and from there they had seen the golden fields of the Mammoth Run Plateau, but that inviting open country was still far from the deep redwood forest. Shoving the wagon along for a week took its toll in sore shoulders, knotted calves, and blistered feet.

Added to the labors of the journey, Phylomon insisted on weapons practice at first light and again in the evening.

As Tull's muscles tightened, the blue man eventually gave up trying to spar with him. "You have great strength in those arms of yours," Phylomon told him. "No human can match it. With your kutow, you can bash through my best parries, and you're fast enough that I think you'll get the first swing on most men. If you keep working on it, in a few weeks you could develop your skill to the point that only the strongest Neanderthal could hope to parry your blows."

From then on, only Ayuvah dared spar with Tull. Ayuvah made an excellent sparring partner. With his long spear and his lunging style, Ayuvah could stand back, balanced on his heels, and dodge Tull's blows while waiting for an opening.

Thus, Tull was forced to match Ayuvah's speed, to dodge his lightning thrusts. Decisiveness, reaction time— these were the traits that Tull was forced to learn, and Ayuvah was the perfect sparring partner until he stepped on an old spearhead, and his foot became so badly infected that he took to the wagon. Phylomon guided them to some hot springs, and Ayuvah soaked his feet while sitting on the white alkali that rose from the deep green pools.

Tirilee stayed in the wagon for the first two days, but walked alongside from then on. Crossing the small creeks where the wagon would get mired in mud was the hardest part of the trip, and after a long day the men threw themselves to the ground and often slept for hours before they roused for dinner. Wisteria fixed dinner for the company only once, then Scandal silently insisted that he take over the job. In spite of all his hard work, his belly did not seem to shrink. He remained, as ever, the fat man.

One evening, Wisteria helped wash and dress Tirilee. Wisteria found the girl to be strange and beautiful, with her long silver hair and deep green eyes, and she washed the girl's emerald dress and put her in some of her own clothes, then decided to brush her hair. Yet when she took her brush to the girl, she realized that the Dryad didn't need it. The girl's hair felt extraordinarily clean and smooth, and not a strand was tangled, and Wisteria thought it strange, for she had not seen the child brush her hair.