Chapter 43

I greeted the others, hugging Jane Appleton as though she were blood and pounding my uncles on the back. Jacob looked to have transformed from a stodgy young man into a stogy old one, but Christian was the teasing, daring fellow I’d always known. Crow would not settle for just a shake; he drew me into a bear hug so tight my breath deserted me.

Ma turned practical and got the party moving toward Teacher’s Mead, which hovered at the base of three hills about two miles to the north. These mounds dwarfed the hill behind my house at Turtle Crick, and the middle, taller of the three was hollow inside, serving as the family’s cold room due to a clear, cold spring that rose inside it. It was also the place where most of the clan’s gold and silver lay buried.