People of the Lightning(138)

She patted his arm tenderly. “Thank you, Diamondback. I would like that very much.”





Dace crouched beside his fire, watching Kelp talking with Diamondback. They’d been out there for more than a hand of time, sitting together by the surf. She hadn’t eaten, or drunk any water—and after a day of hard running! Seedpod and Tailfeather had risen long ago and come in to eat. What was wrong with that Windy Cove warrior? Was he just dim-witted? He must be, or he wouldn’t be keeping Kelp out there so long. Didn’t he understand how tired and thirsty she must be? What kind of a man would do that?

The strips of fat raccoon that Dace had darted, roasted, and saved for Kelp lay stone cold in a bowl on the other side of the fire. Wind-blown ashes had settled on the strips, giving them a white crusty appearance. The meat had tasted so sweet!

Angrily, Dace slammed more wood into his firepit and winced when the bottom log cracked and sputtered, shooting sparks out all around him. More flitted upward, winking, as they sailed away in the wind. One of the warriors, sleeping three tens of hands away, grumbled, jerked his blanket up over his head, and flopped to his other side.

Dace unlaced his pack and pulled out a pale green tunic. He slipped it over his head. As he smoothed it down around his hips, he watched Sister Moon wander like a polished shell through a sea of puffy charcoal clouds. She scattered sparkling handfuls of silver light across the ocean and forest.

He ought to go get Kelp. Yes, get her, drag her back here, and give her a good talking to! That’s exactly what he ought to do. For her own sake. She did not understand Diamondback’s intentions, but Dace did. He’d given many women the same look that Diamondback had been giving Kelp—but Dace’s quarry had been women! Not little girls. Kelp had no one here but Dace to protect her. To tell her things about life. And men. He gritted his teeth. Yes, she needed him, and here he sat! Smoldering. Doing nothing!

I swear on my ancestors’ graves, that if that Windy Cove warrior hurts her, I will strangle him to death with my bare hands. After that, I’ll drag his body off so no one will ever find it!

Reflexively, Dace worked his fingers, exercising them for the task ahead. When he realized it, he looked down, felt like an idiot, and gruffly folded his arms across his chest.

In a whisper, he reminded himself, “She is a smart girl. She will know when to tell him ‘no.’ … Won’t she?”

The question made his gut roil.

Kelp had been like a sister to him his entire life. The sister he’d never known, and he loved her. More than once she’d talked sense into him when his temper had burned his sense to soot. And that seemed to be quite often in the past few summers. He could not count the times Kelp had soothed his vanity after he’d made a fool of himself. She had always been there for him—until a short while ago.

The past seven moons had left Dace hollow and hurting. Both his parents had died from a fever, and Dace had gone to live with his aunt. She was a good woman, but he’d felt so lost and scared, he’d started acting desperate, picking fights, growing as surly as a mating alligator. Pondwader, his best friend, had drifted away. How had that happened? The change had been gradual. Pondwader just seemed to want to spend more time alone. Or talking with his sister. Kelp, too, had grown distant. Her friendship had shifted from Dace to other girls. And Dace had suddenly found himself alone. Oh, he’d had cousins, aunts and uncles, and second and third cousins—but they weren’t friends. They were relatives.

The wind changed and smoke billowed over him, forcing him to squint. The sweet smell of pine sap bathed him. He could see it, boiling up from a crack in a log, sizzling away into nothingness.

Out on the beach, Kelp and Diamondback rose. Dace jumped to his feet and stood with the wind flapping his braid against his back. They were holding hands! His blood surged feverishly.

They parted. Kelp headed toward Dace, and Diamondback angled up the beach. The warrior walked contemplatively, as if lost in thought.

Dace slipped into the darkness of the forest, following a winding deer trail that led north. He paralleled Diamondback’s course. Stepping lightly over deadfall and around brush, he didn’t make a sound. The rhythmic roar of Sea Girl helped. Even when his sandals snapped a twig hidden in the shadows, the surf swallowed the noise.

Dace slowed when he heard voices up ahead. Through the tangled weave of branches, he spied a fire’s glow. Someone laughed softly, then a blanket whipped in the wind, as if being spread out for sleeping.

Diamondback entered the woods just ahead of him and started down the trail toward the fire.

Dace ran on his tiptoes. Just as he prepared to leap and grab the man around the shoulders, his leg brushed a palm frond, and Diamondback whirled, leveling a kick before he even saw who followed him. The blow took Dace in the stomach and knocked him flat on his back on the deer trail. Dace grunted, started to scramble up, but Diamondback fell upon him, bashing him to the ground again. Dace glimpsed the stiletto in Diamondback’s hand, and saw the deadly intent on his face.