People of the Lightning(133)

“You do not have to wait for me, Dace,” she said. “Run ahead, if you wish. See who that is. I will catch up.”

“Run ahead?” he asked. “I couldn’t run ahead if I wanted to. I’m ready to collapse as it is.”

Kelp smiled and forced herself to disregard the pain as she quickened her steps. Dace gave her a knowing glance and grinned, keeping up with her. As they neared the rear of the warriors’ group, she saw an old, white-haired man break away from the people and run headlong for Tailfeather. Shouts of joy sounded.

“Is that Seedpod, Kelp? I can’t tell.”

Breathlessly, she answered. “Yes, it is. Do you see Pondwader?”

Dace craned his neck, and searched the crowd. Warriors mingled with the survivors of Windy Cove Clan, creating one running, talking swirl of activity. Children dashed forward, shrieking and tugging on the warriors’ hands, while dogs, hauling travois piled high with belongings, wagged their tails.

“No,” Dace replied. “I do not see Pondwader.”

Kelp’s heart clutched up. “I have to speak with Seedpod,” she said. “I must speak with him now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

They both headed for Seedpod. The old man wore a tattered tunic. His gaunt face with its leathery cheeks and blunt chin appeared haggard, though he smiled as he took Tailfeather’s hands in greeting.

“Did Moonsnail send you?” Seedpod asked.

“The entire Council of Spirit Elders sent us,” Tailfeather responded, and patted Seedpod’s hands. His ears stuck out, sunburned and peeling, through his shoulder-length black hair. His flat nose bore a streak of dirt across the bridge. “Dogtooth told me about the battle, and I ran home to Heartwood as fast as I could to—”

“Dogtooth?” Seedpod asked. He whirled to look around. “Is he still here?”

“I do not know,” Tailfeather responded uneasily. “He was three days ago. That’s when I spoke with him last.”

“Well … let us talk first. Then we will look for the old lunatic.”

Seedpod gripped Tailfeather’s arm and started to lead him through the gathering out toward the lonely beach. Kelp boldly stepped in front of Seedpod, swallowing hard.

“Forgive me, Elder,” she said. “I am—”

“Kelp!” Seedpod replied and wrapped his stick-like old arms around her. “Blessed Spirits, I’m glad to see you again. Your brother gave me a message for you.”

Kelp’s knees shook. “Is … is Pondwader all right? Is he alive?”

Seedpod’s wrinkled face tensed. “Oh, my dear child. I’m sorry. I did not think … Yes. Yes, Kelp. He survived the battle at Windy Cove. And thereby hangs a tale. Please,” he said and gestured to the beach. “Come. Join Tailfeather and me. I will tell you all about it.”

Relief left Kelp feeling weak. “Thank you, Elder. I would like to do that.”

Seedpod and Tailfeather led the way across the sand, and Dace waited until they had gone a short distance ahead to put a hand on Kelp’s narrow shoulder. Grinning, he whispered, “Can you walk? Or should I carry you?”

Kelp laughed and slapped his hand. “I’m fine. Just shaky.”

“Then come on. I can’t wait to hear about the battle.”

They trotted forward.

Seedpod and Tailfeather sat down near the surf, where the noise would cover their voices. Kelp frowned at that, and exchanged a worried look with Dace. They both understood what it meant. Seedpod’s news would frighten the others. What the old man had to say would be told in private first, then slowly disseminated through the rest of the Heartwood-Windy Cove clanspeople.

Kelp dropped silently to her knees beside Seedpod and unslung her pack, placing it on the sand in front of her. The old man put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Kelp, could I ask you a favor?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Would you and … and your friend gather wood for a fire? It will be getting cold soon. I promise not to say anything important until you return.”

“Of course, Seedpod.”

As she and Dace trotted down the beach picking up driftwood, Kelp heard Seedpod mention Cottonmouth, and saw Tailfeather’s face fall. The two leaned close together to talk. Kelp broke into a run, gathering wood as quickly as she could. It didn’t take long. When they had armloads, they ran back and dumped it in a pile. Without a word, they hastily reseated themselves.

“Yes,” Tailfeather said, and the nostrils of his flat nose flared. He worked to make fire, spinning his drill on his fireboard, no small task on the windy beach. “Dogtooth said that there were so many warriors in his Dream that he could not count them—”