The silence after his fall was as stunning as thunder. Redbird felt tears stream from her eyes—and freeze at once on her cheeks. That he should have lived through two nights of blizzard and cold, that he should come down alive from the sacred cave, only to die within sight of the village under her very eyes, was more than she could stand.
"Oh, no!" she whispered. "He must not die."
She fell to her knees beside him.
He lay face down, half buried. She put her hands under his shoulder and pushed to raise his head. He was heavy, but her fear and her love for him made her strong enough to move him. She lifted his upper body and turned him on his side, and she saw the beloved features, frost-white. Hope made her heart beat faster as little clouds of warm air puffed from his nostrils. But his breathing was ragged and shallow. She had to get him in out of the cold. Gasping with the effort, she rolled him over on his back.
She would have to try to drag him to the village.
Sobbing with near-exhaustion, she sat by his head, shoved her hands under his shoulders and tried to stand, pulling him up with her.
All at once there was no weight on her arms. Someone else was there, lifting Gray Cloud.
She looked up, thankful, yet afraid she might see Wolf Paw returned to do them harm.
No, it was Iron Knife.
Seeing the broad face of her half brother, a cry of relief burst from her throat.