Voyage of the Snake Lady by Theresa Tomlinson

ones,” Fara went on, venting her rage. “Such cowards! They raid us like wicked children and run away!” She vaulted up onto the back of her chosen one, but saw that the women were looking again into the distance.
    The men had turned their horses back and dismounted close to where Leti lay. It seemed they were stooping to examine her body.
    Phoebe was fearful. “What will they do to her?”
    “Oh Leti!” Tamsin trembled.
    “Whatever they do, Leti will not know,” Akasya told them, putting her arms about both girls. “She could not take two arrows in the chest like that and live. Ah Leti . . . why? They were not worth it.”
    Fara’s spitting rage turned to desperate sorrow, so that she raised her head and howled like a wild dog, making her new, nervous steed skitter dangerously. Myrina’s heart was heavy as she went to her. “Come to me, Fara!” she ordered. “Dismount!”
    The young girl fell forward and slipped down from the beast’s back. Myrina caught her and held her tightly, rocking her, as Fara sobbed wildly in her arms.
    Kora watched it all from the higher hillside. She muttered fearfully at the sight of the mares galloping frantically in and out of the stream, crying wildly and rearing up and down. At last she gathered the courage to come down to join her friends.
    “I told you so! You cannot tame such wild ones!” she insisted. “I told you so!”
    “Yes we can!” Myrina answered, letting go of Fara, who was now a little calmer. “They are terrified now, but we must start again—almost at the beginning, but we will start again.”
    Coronilla agreed, shaking her head with bitter resignation. “We must not lose them, but we will need all our gentling skills to soothe them after this attack.”
    Myrina shrugged her shoulders. “And . . . we must start at once.”
    “What if they come back?” Kora asked.
    Myrina glanced furiously in the direction of Eagle Rocks. “We will be ready for them!” she hissed.
    A watch was set to give good warning should the horse thieves try to return. Wearily the women wandered back down to the river, burning with quiet anger but determined not to lose all that they’d gained. They began by making soothing noises and clicking sounds, pursuing their chosen one. There would be no riding, not that day—nor the next. There was much ground to be made up if the horses were to trust them again.
    It was a day of hard work and the riders struggled to be patient, but by sunset the herd were once again quietly cropping the grass and only a few stragglers had wandered away.
    That night Myrina and Coronilla agreed to perform the Ring of Fire, the most warlike of their dances. The women circled the fire, bellowing out their anger, teeth gritted, muscles tense, their movements mimicking the attack on an enemy. They swung their sticks, making them swish through the air as they howled out their rage. Their body pictures gleamed in the leaping firelight so that the strong young women made a terrifying sight.
    Down by the river the horses raised their heads and flattened their ears.
    Suddenly a cry rang out. “Watch out! They attack!” Fara had been a lookout on the hillside above.
    Myrina whirled about and led the angry Moon Riders out to meet their opponents, sticks and bows at the ready.
    It was hard to see clearly in the darkness, but it seemed that the small group of men who had raided them that morning were riding slowly out toward them, carrying torches and leading the few horses that they’d managed to rope and steal away.
    The women growled furiously at the sight of them.
    “Well—do we let them have it now?”
    “Let’s have our revenge!”
    “What are we waiting for?”
    Myrina was full of energy after the exertion of the dancing and ready to fight, but something about the slow progress the men made told her that they were not threatening them this time. Myrina had never seen a war party like it; it seemed to be more of a deputation.
    As they came closer, they