Gar found himself staring at Kindra from the moment she left her tent until the crowd pushed her away. He hadn't spoken to her since she punched him, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She ducked inside her tent, and he stood to follow, but Monk pushed him back down.

“I know you want to talk to Coyote,” Monk grinned, “but he’s busy. And I don’t think you want to follow the Bride of Eoin into that tent right now. She’ll gut you.”

Gar couldn’t stop staring at the door flap. He needed to talk to her again. Maybe if he confessed what he was hiding she’d forgive him.

He didn’t realize he was rubbing the mark on his wrist until Monk grabbed his arm, mirth gone. “Don’t give yourself away.”

“Soon,” Gar said and tugged his sleeve down.

Monk nodded. “Soon. Have a drink.” He handed over his cup, and although it was just after breakfast, Gar drank.

By the time the music started and the trading was over, Gar was pleasantly drunk. Coyote found his old friends, and the Prestons, Bayns, Campbells and Baylors sat together feasting, drinking, and talking about happier days before the battle.

“We all thought you would return,” Cougar’s father, Ocelot, said.

Coyote shrugged. “Return for what? Elise was gone, Geoff was gone. I wanted to start over. A whole new life.”

“You must have succeeded,” Wolf said. “You look good. Thin, but happy.”

Coyote smiled in a way that even drunk Gar recognized. It was the way that Gar smiled when he thought about Kindra, before this mess started.

“I have a new wife, and a new babe on the way if we can get enough food." He sighed and rested his hand on his full stomach. "She told me before we left.”

“When was that?”

His eyes darkened—he’d lost his last wife to hunger and grief during the Starving Winter. “A moon ago. We’ve stopped everywhere we could to trade on the way up. The trip back will be faster.”

“Be careful with the snow.”

Coyote smiled. “It’s not so treacherous up and down the Eaton. But we are careful—I remember the men who tried to go through the pass west.”

Gar stopped listening and let his mind wander with the flow of conversation. The group eventually drifted apart—Cougar to his wife and son, the Prestons to the head table. Coyote moved closer to Wolf and Gar. In years past the Bayns and Everetts had been close friends. He leaned back with his elbows resting on the table behind him.

“I came across a young man on our journey. An Aledan. You might know him; he said his name was…”

“Joe,” Gar sat forward.

“Pike. Pike Bayn.”

Gar closed his eyes as he thought of his brother’s angry words. Perhaps it was Pike’s curse that brought all this on.

Wolf answered. “Pike was my son. He attacked Kindra and left before he could be punished for harming an Odion warrior.”

Coyote looked to the front table and Kindra, but Gar shook his head. “Not a warrior. She’d already quit.”

“She’s not a warrior?” Coyote said.

“Not to Oak.” Gar wrapped his hand around his wrist. No good would come of giving himself away too soon.

Wolf shook his head. “Coyote doesn’t need to know your politics, son.” He turned back to his friend. “What did Pike say?”

Coyote stared at Gar for a long moment before answering. “He said he was looking for a tribe to winter with. I told him to go west because of the drought.”

Gar looked up, finally paying attention. “The snow...”

“Is not deep in the south,” Coyote said. “He made it to the coast.”

“How do you know?”

Coyote gave him a pointed look. “I know the southern winters. And I know Eoin’s warriors.”

Was Pike really a warrior? If Oak held back Kindra’s name, did he really see a name in Pike’s mark? Did it matter? Gar knew Pike would do whatever it took to survive. And if he made good on his promise to return and kill Kindra…

“Liam, did you hear me?”

Gar glanced at Coyote, who still knew him by his birth name. “I’m sorry.”

“I said what’s this about Kindra not being a warrior?”

Gar took a long drink. “Oak refused to name her at the ceremony…”

“Gar.” His father shot him a look that said he should stop talking.

“…and then he sold Kaye to the Obsidians and told Kindra if she went after her sister she was no longer a warrior. Of course Kindra went after her.”

Coyote frowned. “He sold an Odion to the enemy? That sounds like an act to start a civil war. He’s going to have a rebellion on his hands if she has any friends at all.”

“She does.” Gar uncovered the scar on his wrist just long enough for Coyote to see what it was. He glanced at Wolf, who flashed his tattoo.

“How many?”

Gar shrugged. It was hard to count when everyone kept it hidden. “I’d say around half of the warriors.”

“More, if we knew we could trust them not to go to Oak,” Wolf said.

“For Eoin,” Coyote breathed.

“Exactly.” Gar took another drink. He was going to feel awful in the morning if he didn’t stop, but he didn’t care right now.

“And Kindra?”

“Has no idea,” Wolf said. “She would be a reluctant leader.”

Gar snorted. “And since she won’t willingly speak to us, she’s not likely to find out.”

“So, you have a rebellion with no leader and no idea how to reach your goal.” Coyote shook his head. He watched the head table for a while before speaking. “What if we trade? One of those clever tattoos for something to bring your rebellion together and force her to become its merry leader.”

Gar watched Kindra glower at Monk. Was she ready to find out? Were they ready to challenge Oak? Would Kindra even join them, or would this drive her away for good? There was only one way to find out.

“What did you have in mind?”