Otter looked out at the sunset, feeling the cool wind that rustled the trees and watching the surf that curled down the beach.
“They’re in shallow draft canoes. They’ve got to stand in close to shore, avoid rough water. Wave Dancer can take a fair sea, and the wind’s with us.”
Black Skull tucked his thumbs in his belt, skepticism in his eyes. “Thinking about outracing them again?”
“We’ve got the advantage. We know they’re here, and we know how many of them there are.”
“Maybe,” Pearl objected. “He might have split his party, sent half north along this shore and the other half along the southern.”
Otter glared at the marks in the sand. “Yes, he could have.
But one thing’s sure. He knows we’re headed to the Roaring Water. If he gets there first, he can set up camp, scout the country, and lay any kind of ambush he wants. If we get there first, we can lay a trap for him.”
Black Skull nodded. “Now you are talking like a warrior.”
He glanced out at the water. “I wish you’d forgotten to mention where we were headed, though.”
“Yes, well, me, too. But at the time, it seemed the thing to do. Anything to draw Wolf of the Dead and his warriors out into the Fresh Water Sea. I’d like to know how any of them survived that storm.”
‘ ‘ because a man is Khota, it doesn’t mean he can’t be as desperate as an ordinary man.” Pearl turned hard eyes on the deserted camp. “And maybe the Water Spirits that live in the Fresh Water Sea didn’t want their kind of ghost fouling the depths. Who knows, Wolf of the Dead’s corpse might poison a fish.”
Otter nodded. “All right. Let’s go find Green Spider, eat as much as we can hold, sleep until the middle of the night, and then Pearl and I will take the first watch.”
“It takes three people to use the wind trap,” Black Skull noted.
“As long as we can use it, we can Trade off. Green Spider is a little troublesome, but maybe he can steer. That’s not too much of a challenge.”
They started down the beach, Catcher coursing back and forth, nose to the ground, tail up.
“Well,” Otter sighed, taking Pearl’s hand, “it was great while it lasted.” Images of her athletic body lingered in his memory; he’d been planning on running his fingers along those same smooth lines the water had run down. Leave it to the Khota to shatter such pleasant dreams.
“It’s a long time until the middle of the night,” Pearl whispered.
“I thought that after seeing Khota—”
“All the more reason to have you close tonight.” She tightened her grip on his hand, shooting a dark-eyed glance his way.
“Maybe we can fill our souls with other dreams for now. The Khota will intrude enough as it is.”
He managed a smile, but then he’d always had the ability to smile, no matter how horrible he felt.
The wind mixed with the pounding of the surf and the hispering grass. Pearl had nodded off after their last desperate coupling, but Otter couldn’t sleep. A melancholy sense of loss had begun to coil around his insides.
“I had a Dream last night. Water falling in endless cascades that turned from crystal-clear to a white as bright as snow.
Thunder … everywhere … ” Four Kills’ voice crept from the depths of his soul. Sleepless, Otter stared up at the night sky, naming the stars Pearl had shown him.
Pearl mumbled something under her breath and turned over.
Her breathing deepened.
“… The body came whirling about in the sucking whirlpools.
A ray of sunlight pierced the sky then, shimmering through the dancing spray, silvering the droplets and striking gold from them as it lit your face.”
Yes, he remembered. Four Kills had been so desperately sure that the dream was a Vision. Otter reached over, rolling a strand of Pearl’s thick hair between his fingers, thinking of how perfect the day had been, of how happy he’d felt.
‘ ‘ were dead, brother, and your soul was still Dancing in the water.”
Was that how it had to end? Was that the price to be paid for saving the Mask?
Otter slipped out from under the blanket, motioning Catcher— curled at the foot of the bedding—to remain on guard. He used a piece of driftwood to weight the corner of the blanket against the prying fingers of wind, and dressed before crossing the grassy dune to the campsite.
To his surprise, a low fire flickered and wavered in time to the wind that raced in off the water. Green Spider sat hunched there, his triangular, hatchet face and knobby knees illuminated by the flames.
“Can’t sleep,” Otter confided.
“I sure can.” Green Spider reached over and dropped another piece of wood onto the blaze. “Fire is curious, isn’t it? Have you ever wondered what makes it turn so dark?” “I’d never thought about it.”