Silver Water slowly shook her head, and a pain grew in Star Shell’s chest.
“All right,” Star Shell said hoarsely, refusing to take her pleading eyes from her daughter. “Look at it. Get it over with.”
“Not so fast,” Pale Snake warned. “The Mask is a thing of Power, not a simple fetish. I’ll need to prepare myself.”
“Prepare yourself?” Could she repair this wound between her daughter and herself? Was it just a temporary misunderstanding, or had the Mask claimed yet another victim?
“Prepare myself, yes. Your ears worked correctly the first time.
She glanced up, suddenly confused, hurt, and scared, her soul torn so many ways that it didn’t know which way to run.
“Easy.” Pale Snake leaned forward to place his hands on her shoulders. On his face, betrayed in the firelight, she could see his terrible yearning for her, the unfulfilled love that he longed to bestow on her.
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”
“The Mask might tell me where the trap is, or if there even is a trap. I’ll know the truth of Tall Man’s words after I talk to the Mask. Did he ever touch it? I mean without using the wolf hide as a protection?”
She thought back. “Yes, when he … the first time. In the clan house. Just after my husband—”
“All right. That’s good. That means the Mask had direct contact with his soul.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.
She could feel her soul touching his, beginning to surrender.
How she wanted to rely on someone who could comfort her, reassure her that everything would be well.
“I’d better go,” he said, his voice gone husky. “I need to Sing and Dance to prepare my soul. It won’t take long.”
She nodded, reaching for Silver Water’s hand. As he let her go and walked away, she whispered, “Baby, I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Silver Water looked up, and with her free hand, wiped away one of her mother’s tears. “It will be all right, Mama. The Mask won’t hurt him.”
From up the beach, his voice rose, strong and resonant as he Sang in a language she didn’t know. Some of the words sounded familiar, and she thought that Tall Man might have used them on the night he fixed the charms to blind Stargazer … Stargazer.
She shook her head. Why wouldn’t the old High Head Elder have known to prepare before donning the Mask?
Old, a voice told her. Too much forgotten.
She closed her eyes, aware that Silver Water had kept hold of her hand. Odd, how comforting her daughter’s touch was. As if she, too, were preparing.
Pale Snake approached out of the darkness, Singing, and Star Shell started at the sight of him. He’d rubbed black onto his cheeks to cover the snakes and had drawn a crow effigy on his forehead with charcoal. Twists of grass circled his arms, and sprigs of red cedar appeared to have been rubbed over his body and tucked into his breechcloth.
A tranquillity filled his handsome face as he knelt before her, his arms held high to wave a cedar frond in the air.
Star Shell trembled as she unslung the pack from her back and delivered it into his hands. At that moment, she seemed to float; her soul turned airy.
Pale Snake raised the pack to the fire and then, his voice dropping into a melodic chant, began untying the laces.
With one hand, Star Shell grasped Silver Water’s hand again, and her other hand rose to her throat as if to alleviate the tightness there.
Pale Snake lifted the wolfhide, glorious and shining, from the outer pack and slowly unfolded it from the gleaming jet features of the Mask.
“Blessed Mysterious One,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
Star Shell gasped, for the Mask seemed to glow, and she could feel the Power, resonant, surging with the wind.
“Look!” Silver Water cried. “It’s pretty, Mama. It sees in many colors, like dark fire!”
Pale Snake bowed his head, the chant ending. Then, slowly, he began speaking in what Star Shell recognized as High Head—the old language, that of the Elders now all but gone.
The pounding of the surf grew louder, as if it carried a thousand voices. A breeze whipped at the fire, whirling the sparks around. From somewhere out in the night, a curious bellowing sounded, the roar of some huge, trumpeting animal. Then the Singing seemed to spring from the very air.
“Look, Mama!” Silver Water cried. “A big white animal with two tails! One in front, one behind! And curly long teeth!”
Star Shell blinked, looking at the whirling sparks, and there, staring back at her from the flames, stood a proud warrior, scarred, but strong. His misshapen face should have frightened her, but a strength radiated from those black eyes. He tried to smile, but the muscles in his broken face betrayed him. He sighed, saddened, but his soul seemed to shine, like polished copper in the sun.