Musselwhite did not even blink. “Then?”
“I woke up.”
“You woke?”
“Yes. Just like that. I bolted straight up. Breathing like a hunted wolf.”
“So it was a dream?”
He brought his hands down and stared at them, then turned the palms out for her to see. She took his right hand and pulled it close for inspection. Tiny blisters bubbled over the skin.
Her face slackened. In a hoarse whisper, she asked, “How did this happen? Did you fall into the fire?”
“No, my wife, I—”
“Then what caused this?” she demanded fiercely.
“The—the Lightning Bird. His tailfeathers were burning hot.” He tugged, trying to get his hand back. She refused to release it. She kept frowning at the blisters. Pondwader pulled harder, and, finally, she let go.
He cupped his fingers over his knees. “My wife, do you remember last night when I put my hands on your head?”
She frowned. “ … Wait. Yes, I do. It felt good. Like cool water flowing through my body.”
“Yes, but it … it was thunder. I became thunder, Musselwhite. And when I touched you? The roar spilled out of me and ran into you.” Awe strained his voice. “I could not believe it, but it happened just as Turtle Bone Doll said it would.”
She did not reply.
Pondwader bit his lip. “You don’t look like you believe me, my wife.”
“Pondwader, I …”
What did he expect? He had told her so many bizarre things—and now this. “Turtle Bone Doll told me something else, too, Musselwhite. Something you must know.”
“What?”
“She said that one of the Shining Eagles died.”
Musselwhite moved a hand down to her stomach, pressing, as though to probe a pain. “Then why is there no wind? Hurricane Breather—”
“I—I don’t know.”
She examined him gently for a few moments, then eased onto her back again, and stared sightlessly at the sky.
Pondwader waited for more questions, or comments, or … anything. But when nothing came, he got to his feet. “It really happened, Musselwhite.”
“I know you think it did, Pondwader. I know, too, that you are not lying. I just … I need more time to consider your words. Try to understand. I have known some very great Soul Dancers, and heard them tell some curious … tales … about the Spirit World. But I—”
“Didn’t believe them?”
“Not always, I admit. Power frightens me, Pondwader,” she said honestly. “Very much. I try to believe as little of it as possible.”
He nodded, feeling hollow, not knowing what to say. “Let me get the sundew-leaf salve. It will help to ease your pain.”
As he walked away, she said, “Pondwader?”
He stopped and turned.
Sunlight glinted from the sweat on her face. “I do not doubt your word. I want you to know that.”
He continued on his way, kicking at pine cones, wondering about Turtle Bone Doll and the mystery of her Spirit Power. How could she have come to life? Spirit Power could not just be imbued by a word. Rituals had to be performed, sacred Songs Sung. And by someone who knew those things. Musselwhite did not. Did Cottonmouth? If he were a witch, he would. Or … could someone else have performed the rituals? Who would Cottonmouth have trusted enough to let them touch that precious object?
Bright Feather?
A shudder ran through him. Could that be the secret? Had Cottonmouth taken Turtle Bone Doll to the old witch and asked him to breathe life into it? But that would mean that the Doll was evil, possessed by dark Spirit Power.
Pondwader floundered, filled with horror and wonder.
She didn’t feel evil. Could she have deceived Pondwader?
The next time Turtle Bone Doll appeared, he would ask her all of these questions.
Twenty-nine
“Who are they?”
Kelp looked up. “I don’t know, Dace.”
“Do you think it’s Windy Cove Clan? What’s left of it?”
“ … Maybe.”
Anxiety swelled in Kelp’s chest. Too far away to tell, she nonetheless searched the small group of people for Pondwader’s tall, skinny form.
The milky gleam of dusk descended upon the beach like a gossamer veil, falling lightly, slowly turning the white sand a sparkling glacial blue. Birds quieted with the coming of night. Only the constant pounding of surf serenaded the evening. Kelp ran alongside Dace, at the rear of the war party. The other men trotted far ahead of them, clustered in a tight knot. The long, gray pool of Manatee Lagoon stretched to the east. They had been running since before dawn, and Kelp prayed they would stop soon. Every time her foot struck the sand, her leg muscles cramped and cried in agony. Dace appeared just as miserable. His face had tightened, fighting the strain. But she feared she might be holding him back.