Red Moon Rising
“I have injuries I do not remember sustaining. I think this is the same for all of us.
Jo is pulled from her Kwihuutsuu and laid out on a blanket. She groans and mutters from the pain of her injury, but Fist applies a poultice and gives her sleeping scrub and it seems as though she will be okay. It is not a mortal wound if we can keep infection at bay.
The baby, a small thing, yet old enough to sit and hold up her bald head, cries and cries. I know the people from Origin Township have set out to recover her, even if they don’t know where to look. Babies are prizes to be protected and nurtured. Old Man Dan will not let this happen without a fight.
Fist holds the baby, shushing her and rocking her in slow movements. He drips water from his claw-nails into the baby’s mouth, and the baby greedily laps it up.
“Mayrikafsa,” Fist says in a near whisper. “Come here.” I do as he says, even though my mind reels at what has happened during this day.
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