Four
Torak lay down in his tent, holding yarrow leaves against the cheek which had been stinging for a whole day. He was feeling restless, and was trying to keep all of his thoughts focused, and not whizzing around like the stars which moved across the First Tree, spraying the sky with dust. The arrows of the World Spirit. Torak sighed. All these distractions were giving him a migraine.
He had explained everything to Renn, but she didn't seem to understand. He had to reach the Elk River ford. But why? said a part of his brain. Why did you go?
That was the thing. He just.... had to. It was a feeling. Like the feeling which Wolf had that guided him and Torak to the Mountain of the World Spirit, to destroy the bear. A Pull.
Renn was unsympathetic, and unrelenting about the slaps she had given to Torak. She had stalked off, using the ever-useful excuse: That she was going hunting.
Torak needed a breath of fresh air. He crawled out of the tent, and straightened up. He saw by the moonlight that the yarrow leaves were slightly darker, and the medicine in them had been used. He crumpled them and threw them away, pulling out his waterskin and washing his cheek. He felt stuffy, so he forgot about gently shaking it for a little water and let the complete contents of the waterskin slip over him. Aah... pure bliss.
Walking towards the fire where the rest of the clan was gathered, and he asked Fin-Kedinn what they would be eating for the nightmeal. Fin-Kedinn grunted, and pointed to a deer-liver stew. Torak's stomach grumbled. He trodded along to the cooking skin, and took a wooden bowl of stew from Salmot. He tucked in, not bothering to use his grouse-bone spoon or his salmon-rib skewer. He greedily chewed on each piece that he ripped off from the carcass, savoring the flavor and then swallowing it. The skin around his forehead began to tighten. He felt uncomfortable and massaged his face with his free hand. It wouldn't let loose. He forgot about it and finished his stew. The center of his forehead began to tingle. Just as he hoisted himself up, excrutiating pain burst through his forehead. He fell to the ground, bouncing gently. He didn't have time to scream.
The rest of the clan rushed to his aid, ripping off his jerkin and checking for his heartbeat. It was Fin-Kedinn who saw it.
"Look to his head." Everyone obeyed. There, the outcast tatoo that The Raven Leader had turned into an all-clan symbol was glowing. And there was a red rim around it.
Dark pushed to the front, examining the rim. "I am taking him." No one argued. After all, he was the Clan Mage.
Dark examined his body, then he gasped and turned Torak over on his back. There, in the middle, was a hand-print, very like the one in the hand-sign to ward off evil.
But instead of the three bars, there was a three pronged spear pointing sideways above the middle finger.
The sign of the Soul-Eaters.