People of the Lakes(337)

Catcher leaped to grab a man’s arm as he started to swing a war club at Otter. The dog shook itself in unleashed fury, its teeth shredding its screaming victim’s flesh. The unexpected weight pulled the warrior to the ground, where he shrieked in panic, fighting to protect his throat and stomach by kicking at Catcher.

And the Contrary laughed, hooted, and skipped through the carnage, clapping his hands like a child at a game of hoop-and stick.

A sodden crack, like a melon being dashed down upon a rock, made Star Shell spin around. Grizzly Tooth took a half-step, his mouth dangling open as he dropped his war club in the dirt between Star Shell’s feet. He reeled to one side before pitching face-first onto the ground.

Pearl stood there—eyes flashing like an avenging Spirit’s— a war club in her hands. Star Shell glanced at Grizzly Tooth.

The back of his skull had been crushed by her blow, but his body had not yet realized its death. The flesh twitched and spasmed in the final throes.

The world quieted suddenly. Only the endless roar of the falls spoke for the coming night.

As though the silent soul of the Mysterious One had descended, birds stopped singing. There were no moans, and no one panted, or exhaled in relief. Pearl’s eyes had gone wide and still.

Black Skull crumpled to the ground. Otter cast aside the war club he’d been using to pound Wolf of the Dead’s face into bloody mush and knelt at his friend’s side, speaking softly.

Pale Snake stood motionless, blood dripping from his war club, his eyes on the Contrary.

Green Spider had one foot up and his arms extended like wings. In a voice almost too low to hear, he said, “Do you see it?”

“Yes,” Pale Snake answered reverently.

Star Shell followed his gaze. A breathtaking rainbow had shimmered to life, spanning the river from shore to shore, the bands of color so clear they seemed crafted of the purest jewels.

Silver Water, Pearl, and Pale Snake started forward. Otter followed. Star Shell knelt to help Black Skull to his feet. She slipped his arm over her shoulder and together they went to stand behind the Contrary, seeing the miracle before them.

Summer solstice. The crimson sun hung molten and glowing above the treetops, shooting light out in gigantic copper-colored spikes. One of those spikes had pierced the mist that boiled up from the falls as evening cooled the air. Thick and sparkling, the mist resembled a blizzard of tiny winter snowflakes. The rainbow had been born in the mating of fiery light and glistening water vapor.

“The bridge … “the Contrary murmured and stood silent for a moment before bursting into insane laughter. He fell to the ground and rolled around, holding his stomach and kicking his feet like a clubbed jackrabbit.

Black Skull rasped, ‘.‘What’s the matter with you, fool? It’s a rainbow!”

Green Spider replied from behind the Mask, “Yes, but I’m seeing it now.” Such deep gratitude filled his voice that it brought inexplicable tears to Star Shell’s eyes. “Now! Now!

Now!” He roared with mirth. “I’m here now!”

Otter frowned and spread his hands. “When else would you be here? Tomorrow? Yesterday?”

Black Skull waved a weak hand. “He’s raving again. Get him up off the ground and let’s get out of here before someone else comes to kill us. I don’t want to have to—”

A chilling howl rent the air, demanding, authoritative. Everyone whirled, and Green Spider rolled to peer into the forest.

There, at the edge of the trees, a wolf stood with its ears pricked.

Black as jet. Huge. It howled again. Agonized this time, like a beast in pain.

Green Spider grabbed up the flute—lost in the melee—and got to his feet, peering at the creature through the Mask. His voice came out soft, frightened. “You and your Dark Brother have both gambled poorly. You know that now, don’t you?”

A snarl wrinkled the velvet satin of the wolf’s muzzle, and long white fangs were bared. Green Spider fell back a step. The beast took a threatening step forward, and Star Shell felt Black Skull tense, ready to kill the wolf with his bare hands to save his friend. “No, wait,” she whispered. “It’s a Spirit Animal.”

He looked down at her, but his muscles didn’t relax.

“Let’s not fight,” Green Spider pleaded, gently accenting his words with waves of the flute. “Fair is fair,” He glanced to the side, where Catcher was advancing, hair standing on end. “No, Catcher. Stay out of it, my friend.”

His ears back, tail down, Catcher veered off from the wolf.

A coal-black crow dropped to a low-hanging branch, and an angry caw erupted from its feathered throat.

“No,” Green Spider answered through the Mask. “I have made my decision. Neither of you can change it.”