People of the Lakes(305)

“Come.” Once they were dressed, Black Skull led them up over the low, grass-covered dunes. Where small ponds had been trapped’ by the sand, shoots of cottonwood now rose above the tall grass. Here and there, logs— cast up during storms and partially buried—now rotted, each a home for mushrooms and insects.

To Otter’s surprise, maple and elm had started to send up occasional saplings.

Black Skull led them down to the beach on the windward side and turned northward. Finally, he stopped, gesturing with the flat of his hand. “All right, Trader, tell me what you see.”

Otter approached warily, still holding Pearl’s hand. The skid marks in the sand, along with the stippling tracks to either side, were self-explanatory. What might have been imagined as a giant centipede’s mark was where a canoe had been dragged up and then back off the beach. Four such marks were visible.

Catcher had forgotten his stick and was now hunting around, nose wiggling, as he checked the scents.

“So someone landed here,” Otter replied. “Given the number of fishing canoes on this coast, I don’t see—”

“Look at the fire pits up here,” Black Skull said. “And you two be careful where you put your feetr Try not to step on the tracks they left.”

Otter and Pearl stared at the charcoal-filled fire pits. Otter bent down and felt the warmth that still radiated. Last night’s camp, then. He glanced at Pearl as she squatted beside him. “Does this mean anything to you?”

“It looks like a fire pit. This is where they scooped the sand out, and over here—” she stood, leading him to the flattened marks in the sand “—is where they laid out their blankets.”

She frowned.

Black Skull had dropped to one knee. “You might look at this, Trader. It’s a very interesting footprint.”

Otter left Pearl and her pensive study of the flattened areas to bend down next to Black Skull. The imprint of the moccasin had been made in wet sand and had dried in perfect condition.

“I see a moccasin print. It’s a man’s, from the size of it, and he seems to have curled his toes from the way the front of the print is pressed down. Um, let’s see. The seam runs up the instep of the moccasin, which generally means it’s a high moccasin, right? Low types usually just have the seam in the back.’!

“You’re better than I expected. But what you don’t realize is that we’ve seen this track before.” Black Skull’s eyes had narrowed.

“Khota,” Pearl said suddenly, backing away. She wiped her palms on her skirt, and a hard swallow went down her throat.

“That’s … that’s what it is. At every camp we made, they laid out their beds this way. Head toward the inland, feet toward the fire. If it had been stormy, they’d have camped on the opposite side of the island and built partial shelters from the wind. Last night was peaceful. No wind.”

Otter reached down, his fingers barely tracing the track.

“We’ve seen this track? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” ť

Pearl crouched down beside him and studied it. “Grizzly Tooth,” she stated.

Otter felt a chill go down his back. “How? I mean, it’s impossible!

We’d have seen them. They couldn’t have passed us without our knowing!”

“They must have traveled another course.” Black Skull rubbed his off-center jaw. “We circled that loop that Trout drew. What if the Khota knew of a way across the bottom? The land is riddled with rivers, and just like the Ilini River, some must have passages, or a short portage at worst.”

“But why wouldn’t we have heard?” Otter shook his head, refusing to believe.

Black Skull pointed to the scrape marks in the sand. “Those are light war canoes, Otter. I see ten and seven beds up there.

How far can four warriors carry a light war canoe in one day?

Look at how narrow the marks in the sand are. These canoes could be paddled up very small creeks. Places we could never take Wave Dancer.”

Pearl walked away from them, up into the grass, searching carefully for something. She bent down, then stood, her face strained. “I think I know this one, too. He’s got a tapeworm in his guts. The last time I thought about that was when I was watching him hang his bottom over the side of the canoe on the way upriver.”

“How could you know a man has a tapeworm?” Otter asked.

One of her delicate eyebrows arched. “I fed it to the slimy weasel, that’s why. He was lucky. You should have seen what some of the others ate.”

“I’m never going to make you mad at me,” Black Skull promised and strode down onto the beach, his lips twitching with disgust. “What do we do now, Otter? They’re ahead of us.”