People of the Lakes(304)

Of all the women in the world, I have been blessed to find this one … if only for so short a time.

The wind shifted, and Otter twisted his paddle slightly to keep them stern-on to the blow. To his amazement, despite the chop and swells, they seemed to speed across the water, the bow slapping out spray that the wind whipped away.

“This is the way to travel!”

“Only because your fingers aren’t cramped into agony,” Pearl declared as she braced her legs against the bucking hull.

Black Skull turned his head, asking, “Tell me, fool, will your wolf be able to keep up? That was him that you slipped away from camp to see last night, wasn’t it?”

From the other side of the wind trap, the Contrary cried, “The Spirits are slower than even the fastest of men, warrior. Of all people, Little Mouse, you should know the ways of Power.” “Little Mouse?” Otter asked. “Did he call you Little Mouse?”

Black Skull’s wounded face paled. Defensively, he muttered, “The fool’s just raving again, Trader. Forget it, Green Spider.

Just forget that I ever mentioned your miserable wolf.”

Green Spider lifted his hawkish nose above the middle of the wind trap and sniffed in Black Skull’s direction. “The ways of Power, yes. You stink of Power these days, Little Mouse. It was that brilliant daylight during the storm. You learned to live inside your bones that night. Remember! Remember! You’ll always remember!” Pearl smiled, white teeth flashing, as she glanced back at Otter and winked.

Little Mouse? Otter studied the warrior with a new curiosity.

Who would have thought … but then, everyone had a childhood name that they outgrew. Somehow he’d imagined a sullen, angry little Black Skull, a child-sized war club over his shoulder, flailing anyone or anything in his path.

They camped that night on a sandy hook that protruded out into the lake and curled around to the east like a beckoning finger. After camp had been established, Otter looked at Pearl and nodded toward the lee of the hook. “Want to swim?”

“After today, I’m about as energetic as a twisted rag. Sure.”

While Black Skull made his nightly rounds and Green Spider squatted before the fire, Otter and Pearl peeled off their clothing and ran out into the shallows. Catcher bounded along, barking and splashing until he had to paddle, nose up, ears pricked. Pearl dove cleanly into the clear water, stroking under the surface likeŤ a graceful brown fish.

Otter gave chase, attempting to overcome the woman’s natural grace with his superior strength. She darted ahead of him, breaking for a breath, and, belly muscles flexing, jackknifed away, trailing silver bubbles and streaming hair.

Otter broke the surface, gasped a quick breath—and floundered as she pinched his rear from behind. Ducking underwater, he found her grinning; then, like a minnowr she twisted and escaped his thrashing advance.

Finally winded, he tread water, flipping his wet hair from his face. A final pinch on the butt proved difficult to ignore, but he did so. She surfaced in front of him, parting her hair with slim brown hands. “You’re easy to pinch.”

“I ought to drown you.”

“Try it,” she challenged, and slipped below the surface. This time she didn’t pinch his bottom, but irreverently yanked on the member that dangled in the front. Otter growled and resumed the fruitless pursuit. By the ancestors, she was half fish!

In desperation, he gave up and stroked lazily to shore while she literally swam circles around him. In the shallows, they both stood, grinning. The sunset accented her skin with red, glistening in the droplets of water that streamed from her shoulders to curve around the high swell of her breasts and down the smooth concavity of her sides.

“You look happy,” he told her.

She reached for his hand. “I am, Water Fox. But one thing’s sure, you’re no otter. A real otter should be able to outswim an Anhinga any old day.”

Catcher had given up on them and now pranced along the shore, dragging a sandy stick in his mouth. Water trickled from his tricolored fur.

As they waded toward shore, Black Skull appeared over the crest of the dune. He approached with that assertive step Otter had come to associate with trouble.

“What’s wrong?” He dropped Pearl’s hand as he retrieved his wadded shirt from the sand. Pearl was twisting her thick hair to wring out the water. Despite his concern, Otter couldn’t help but watch the muscles play in her sleek brown forearms.

“Something I think you should see,” Black Skull said dourly.

“I don’t know if it’s immediate trouble or not. Green Spider didn’t show any of the usual signs of coming disaster; instead, the fool gulped down some berries from one of the pots and disappeared inland. We’ll probably get a visit from a mad crow tomorrow.” “What is it you want us to see?” Pearl asked as she shook her damp hair back and shrugged into her shirt.