Feather by Susan Page Davis Page A

along the way the stranger had come. “You can beat him to the village. Go.”
    Karsh ran, bent over, but he assumed his movement and footsteps would draw the stranger’s attention. Snap began to bark, and below him in the village there was a sudden stir. Weave and Zee grabbed the children and hurried them toward the edge of the forest. Good. They had seen the flag.
    Rose, Tansy, and a few of the older children were in the woods gathering nuts. Perhaps those fleeing could intercept them and alert them to the danger. High up the meadow the goats and sheep grazed. Cricket and Bente were probably up there. As he ran down into the village, Karsh’s mind raced. How could they improve their alarm system? Today one man came alone. What if it were a band of twenty? This wasn’t good enough or fast enough.
    Rounding the corner of the new house, he almost smacked into Rand.
    “Stranger coming,” Karsh panted.
    “I sent Gia into the lodge to tell Alomar. The women and children have gone to the platforms in the trees. They will stay there until we tell them it is safe.”
    Karsh nodded, gasping, knowing it was the best they could do. “We think he’s alone.”
    Rand nodded and called the dogs to him, squinting toward the path. “I see him.”
    They waited side by side, and Karsh squared his shoulders. He glanced upward. Shea stood atop the ridge with his bow in hand, scanning their valley and the one beyond the hill. If more people appeared, he would run up the red flag, Karsh knew. He had repeated the signals many times before the elders were satisfied he could stand sentry duty. He gripped the hilt of his knife and stood ready, for what he didn’t know.
    The stranger looked all around as he walked, taking in the lodge, the new house, the storage bins, and fire that still smoldered. His gaze rested on Rand and Karsh, and he stopped twenty yards away watching them. Bobo and Snap sat obediently but whined and fidgeted.
    Karsh swallowed hard. He could see now that the bearded young man was as tall as Hunter and as muscular as Jem. He had a long, thin knife of some sort thrust through the strap that belted his woven tunic. His feet were shod in leather boots, and his leggings were of soft leather. His powerful shoulders supported the leather straps of a large pack, and he wore a shapeless brown felt hat.
    The stranger raised his hands and opened them to show that they were empty.
    “I mean no harm,” he called.
    Rand stared at him coldly for several seconds, then replied, “Come along then.”
    Karsh exhaled and realized he had been holding his breath.
    The stranger came forward at a measured pace until only two steps separated them.
    “What is your business?” Rand asked.
    “I seek a place where I can dwell for the winter . . . one where I can be solitary and safe.”
    Rand was silent for a long moment, then asked, “You are quite alone?”
    “Yes, sir, and do not mind remaining so.”
    “Then you do not ask admission to our village?”
    “No, except perhaps for a visit and some information. Do your people claim all this territory?” His hand swept a broad arc that encompassed the valley.
    “What you can see belongs to the Wobans,” Rand replied.
    The stranger nodded. “I do not wish to disturb your people. I have had enough noise and confusion. I wish only to live through the winter in peace.”
    Again Rand eyed him in silence. At last he nodded. “We have no quarrel with peaceful folk. If it’s solitude you want, perhaps the hills to the east will suit.”
    The man bowed his head slightly. “I thank you. My name is Sam, and I hope you will consider me a friend of the Wobans.”
    Rand shifted his weight, seeming to reach a decision. “The day is short. It is only an hour until our evening meal. You cannot go much farther in the light that is left. If you would like, you may spend the night in our village, provided you give your word that you travel alone and will do us no ill.”
    “Gladly.”
    Rand turned to