People of the Lightning(125)
Beaverpaw frowned. “Why would she go there?”
“What? You haven’t heard?” Hanging Star jerked the grass stem from his mouth to gape at Beaverpaw. “Cottonmouth captured her husband, Diver! I, myself, delivered the message to Windy Cove. I—”
“Diver is alive?”
“Oh, yes, at least he was the last time I saw him. Though, I admit, he did not look so well.” Hanging Star grinned. “But he was alive enough to still draw his wife like a fly to fresh blood. I’m sure Musselwhite must already be on her way—and Cottonmouth is waiting for her.”
A bright hot fire raced through Beaverpaw’s veins. “Waiting for her? What do you mean?”
Hanging Star tucked the stem in his mouth again and chewed on it. “I mean he knows she’s coming. He had a Spirit Dream about it. That’s why he sent us out to capture Diver.”
“I thought you had just accidentally run into Diver’s scouting party?”
“No, no. Cottonmouth knew just where the Windy Cove scouting party would be camped, and he knew that Diver would be there. It was very strange. Diver escaped. We had to hunt him down. But we found him.”
“Great Ancestors,” Beaverpaw murmured. Sun Mother emerged from the film of clouds and glared down. The chert tools sparkled wildly.
Beaverpaw remembered Musselwhite’s pain. Grief had tightened every line in her beautiful face. Discovering that her husband had been taken prisoner must have been a terrible shock.
“So,” he said, “Musselwhite would have heard the truth after your attack on Windy Cove. From the survivors?”
Hanging Star waved a hand, as if shooing away insects. “Yes, I suppose. What does it matter?”
It mattered a great deal. If she were headed toward Standing Hollow Horn Village, she needed help. And badly. She had asked Beaverpaw for help once, and he had promised to provide it.
Casually, Beaverpaw asked, “How many Windy Cove warriors do you think she could gather to go with her?”
Hanging Star used his tongue to move the grass stem around his wide mouth. “None! We killed as many as we could. But, more important—” Hanging Star lifted a finger “—if Cottonmouth’s Dream was correct, and I’m not saying it was, mind you. But if it was, she will bring only the Lightning Boy with her. She will have no war party.”
“ … No war party?” Beaverpaw whispered in disbelief. “But how could she hope to rescue Diver without—”
“She won’t rescue him,” Hanging Star interrupted with a chuckle. “She will be captured herself. That is what Cottonmouth Dreamed anyway. But, who knows? I am on my way back there now, just because I am curious about how it will all turn out.”
“You don’t believe Cottonmouth’s Dream?”
Hanging Star heaved a disgruntled sigh. “What do I know of Soul Dancers? Cottonmouth is scary, I will say that for him. But a man with Spirit Dreams? I have never been convinced of that.”
“But what if he is a Soul Dancer?”
Hanging Star rubbed his blunt jaw, and glanced sideways at Beaverpaw. “That’s a frightening prospect. And he does seem to know things that others—even the Spirit Elders of Standing Hollow Horn Clan—do not know.”
“On the other hand, he may just be insane.”
Hanging Star nodded. “Oh, yes, I believe that. I do. Cottonmouth truly believes these murders are helping to prepare the way for the Lightning Birds to soar down and carry him and his followers to a new world beyond the stars.” He laughed derisively. “You should come back with me. See for yourself. Even if he is insane, Cottonmouth can be very entertaining.”
Beaverpaw’s belly prickled, but he smiled, picked up his newly completed scraper, and gestured with it. “Perhaps I will. If I can convince my companions to come.”
“That will not take much!” Hanging Star said. “Convince Dark Rain and you will have convinced Bowfin. He follows her around like a lost wolf pup. It’s really embarrassing. Does he realize how foolish he appears? Well, anyway, you’ll have no trouble talking Dark Rain into going. Just tell her the truth. Once every moon there is a big shell game at Standing Hollow Horn Village. People come from all the surrounding villages to gamble on the players.” He pulled the grass stem from his mouth and tossed it away. “Tell Dark Rain that, and she will beat you there.”
Beaverpaw’s eyes drifted back to Dark Rain. For the first time in days, he knew where his path led. Her obsession would give him the perfect cover. Long hair flowed around the curves of her flawless body, accentuating her broad hips and full breasts. She had been winning steadily. He knew because of her almost erotic shrieks of pleasure. She treated dice like a lover. Her face lit whenever she touched them, and her lips pursed into that sensual pout.