2. A Change of Seasons

CASCADE

CHAPTER 2

Cascade winced as a blow struck him on the back of his head.

"Your father wants to speak to you. Now." The speaker was his uncle, Harlak.

He'd been caught daydreaming again, and he knew this would only add to his uncle's loathing for him.

"You could have just asked," Cascade muttered sourly.

He massaged the back of his skull as he stood up. He towered over his uncle, yet his build was nowhere near as robust. He eyed the quiet man warily as he stepped around him.

"Move," Harlak growled.

There was a rough shove at his back, and Cascade stumbled toward where he knew his father would be waiting. He could tell Harlak had been chewing on Dream Caps again. He was always more brusque and aggressive when he was stoned. Tonight was no exception. Cascade gritted his teeth as he trudged on.

The air was finally beginning to chill, a sure sign of the changing seasons. Summer was over, and Cascade felt gooseflesh prickle up his back and down his arms as he traveled along the forest's edge—but it wasn't just the cold that possessed him.

He looked at his tribe members uneasily as he passed by. Dozens of his people dotted the periphery of the woodland, lying in wait. Tonight was to be their third and final raid. He wished desperately to be holed up back in his cave at Mountainhome with his furs and pipe instead of here, doing this. Again. Cascade sighed and cast a sideways glance out into the grassland.

The foreign tribe was still celebrating in the moonlight. When the sun had set, they'd lit a vast bonfire. For many hours, its flames had roared and licked at the sky. After a time, the tribe began to pile it with meat—more meat than Cascade had ever seen in his life. Then the dancing started, and soon after, the music.

Cascade had never heard drums before. As he listened on, mesmerized, his weariness blurred into sadness and, finally, despair. He knew they were about to upend all that merriment for their selfish designs. And it was his innovation that made that possible. The rhythm of the drumbeat was a constant, thudding reminder of what was about to happen.

His father awaited him just ahead. To Cascade's dismay, the witch was at his side.

"My son," his father greeted him.

"Father—" Cascade began.

But his father cut him off.

"Did you pass out your weapons?" the chief asked.

It was always straight to the point with him, and Cascade knew better than to take his brusqueness personally.

"I did, Father," he replied.

Cascade dipped his head—partly out of respect for the man and partly to avoid having to look him directly in the face. He regretted sharing the design he'd come up with now. When he'd thought it up, he'd imagined the tribe might use it for hunting or as a way to immobilize but not kill an enemy or scout that happened across their territory in the mountains to the west. Instead, his father had found another use for it: recruitment.

And as much as Cascade hated having made any of this possible, he found it hard to look past the righteous cause his father had embarked them on. After all, the Wolves had finally found them. He'd seen them himself when they'd made landfall last spring. If left unattended, they would consume this world just like they'd consumed the last.

Cascade's father placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, standing silently by his side. Across the field, the bonfire grew dim. But the drums beat on, and the din of merriment still clambered out into the night. Cascade clutched the bola in his hand, hoping he'd find an excuse to avoid using it as he had in the prior two villages.

"The villages were exactly where I told you they'd be," the witch interjected.

"Yes, witch. You have proven your worth," his father replied tiredly.

"And so, may I join you as I've asked?"

It had been like this for days. She'd become increasingly insistent as they'd journeyed from the last village to this one. Cascade could tell his father was growing impatient with her despite her usefulness with medicine and tracking.

"This is the final time I will repeat myself. You have not traveled the Journey, nor earned the right to fight alongside us. I am sorry, but this is the way things are," his father stated with finality.

"But—" she began.

Cascade winced as his father backhanded her, sending her tumbling to the ground.

To his relief, she didn't protest any further. Cascade forced himself to ignore the urge to comfort her, partly because he despised her and partly because he knew better than to get in between a display of his father's tribal authority and the friction caused by defying it. Harlak, silent until now, chuckled at the witch as she scrambled to her feet and slunk off into the night.

"I do not punish for my own amusement, Harlak," his father warned. "You would do well to temper your cruelty."

Harlak, despite his characteristic obstinance, fell silent at the rebuke. Everyone respected Cascade's father—even his uncle, in his way. Cascade couldn't help but feel the sliver of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth at the sight of the cruel man being put in his place.

"We will move on them the moment their bonfire goes out. Tell the others to ready themselves," his father ordered.

"Yes, Father," Cascade said.

He bowed his head again and then trotted off to alert the others of the coming signal. Even if he'd wanted to disobey, he knew he couldn't. Besides, if his people didn't do everything in their power to stop the Wolves, this tribe would be as doomed as all the rest.