She hated him for the lie. But, the thought of the soldiers, the men who had actually pulled the triggers, coming here to kill Sani, to kill the children, that hate was older and deeper. She drew her knife. She walked over to Luke. She stood close to him.
He could smell the sage in her hair. He could see the tears drying on her cheeks. She reached behind him. She did not be gentle. She sawed at the ropes with angry, jerky movements.
The ropes fell away. Luke rubbed his wrists. He looked at her. Ayanna did not step back. She reached down and picked up a Winchester rifle from the pile of weapons.
She shoved it into his chest. Luke grabbed it. Their hands met on the cold metal of the gun. "If you turn this on us," Ayanna hissed, her eyes locking with his. "I will kill you before you can pull the trigger. " "I know," Luke said.
But, there was more than a threat in her eyes. There was a desperate, terrifying plea. Protect us. Protect me. Make up for what you did. " They stood there for a heartbeat.
Two people bound by blood and history, standing on the edge of the end of the world. Luke nodded. "Let's go," he said. He turned toward the canyon entrance, checking the action of the rifle. Ayanna watched him for a second, then turned and ran to gather her arrows.
The trial was over. The war had begun. The canyon was no longer a home. It was a machine built for death. In the final hours of light, the camp transformed.
The domestic rhythm of grinding corn and tanning hides vanished, replaced by a cold, frantic efficiency. The women worked with a silence that was more terrifying than screaming. They were not soldiers, but they were survivors of a 30-year war, and they knew how to turn their sanctuary into a slaughterhouse. Luke Carver stood at the narrow neck of the canyon, the place where the walls pinched in until they were barely 20 ft apart. He pointed to the overhangs that loomed 50 ft above.
"Stack the heavy stones there," Luke said, his voice raspy. "And there. Do not drop them when the first rider comes through. Wait until the column is fully engaged. You want to trap the tail, not just crush the head. " Nalin nodded, translating the orders to the older women.
They moved with surprising strength, leveraging massive boulders into precarious positions using cedar poles, ready to be tipped with a single shove. High above, in the crevices that scarred the upper cliff face, the mothers were hiding the children. It was a heartbreaking procession. Small bodies were tucked into cracks in the red stone, covered with brush and blankets. Sani was there, pressing a finger to her son's lips, her eyes wet, but her hands steady.