Chapter Twenty-One
‘What is your rite? Your rite, for your dead?’
Feather blinked back into alertness. He was still holding his dead father’s hand, and the hand had grown cold. Some time had passed; the light of the day had changed. He placed Helm’s hand carefully on his chest. It was too late to close his eyes for him—one of the others had already done so. They had been waiting a good while in silence.
Feather rose to his feet, Rasti again in his arms. The little dog lay on his breast, her face hidden under her paws. She at least was not ready to face the world without Helm.
‘Kohu, Kaihoko,’ said Feather, glancing at each in turn. ‘I thank you for your patience.’ He took a deep breath. ‘In the tribes we have two ways to return the bodies of our dead to the land from which we came, the
