“No,” Kelp and Pondwader said in unison, and looked at each other. Neither of them knew the names of their fathers. They might have been the same man, or different men.
Dogtooth stepped into the sunlight and the white circles of his eyes blazed. He scanned the forest as if expecting intruders. “Well, that’s not surprising. Dark Rain herself may not even know.” He extended a black-painted hand to them. “Come along, the ghosts have grown weary of waiting.”
“Weary? But, Grandfather,” Pondwader defended as he fell in step behind Dogtooth, “I came at the time you said to. I—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dogtooth replied with a negligent wave of his hand. “Some of the ghosts here have been waiting tens of summers to speak with a Lightning Boy. They knew you were coming. They just did not know when. So don’t be surprised if they call you by name.”
Kelp saw a mild shiver climb Pondwader’s spine before he tightened his muscles to stop it. She knew how he felt. Dogtooth made her gut crawl. She thought it was mostly that demented tone of voice. As if to bolster his courage, Pondwader clenched his fists and asked, “You mean you told the ghosts my name, don’t you?”
Dogtooth stopped so suddenly that Pondwader ran into him and knocked the old man backward two steps.
“Oh, forgive me, Dogtooth!” Pondwader apologized. “I didn’t mean—”
“Why, no,” Dogtooth answered, and cocked his head like a surprised cormorant. “What would give you that idea?” A tuft of mist floated before his eyes and he suddenly pulled his head back to examine it, then used both hands to brush it away as if irritated. “I didn’t tell the ghosts your name! As a matter of fact, they told me … long before you were born, I might add.”
Dogtooth gave Pondwader that bizarre smile, turned, and walked ahead.
Kelp grabbed Pondwader’s arm and tugged him back. She whispered, “I thought Dogtooth told you one ghost, Aunt Fin, wanted to speak with you. Now it sounds like there are two tens of them. How many ghosts will you be talking to today?”
“I—I guess I … don’t know. But I’d better go.” He shrugged and sprinted to catch up with Dogtooth. Kelp cautiously followed.
On the far side of the pond, six body-lengths away, two alligators lay in the shallows with their mouths open. Water lilies floated around their long tails. Young animals, they had yellow crossbands on their bodies which would fade as they grew older. Given their small size, they probably would not attack, but Kelp kept her eye on them anyway.
Dogtooth pushed his way through a clump of palmettos and flopped down in the mud beside the Sacred Pond, waiting for them to join him. Against the green vegetation, his skeletal black body resembled a burned corpse.
A faint breeze stirred the forest, warm, carrying the brittle scent of autumn. As it moved through the trees, splinters of sunlight fell across the Pond, contrasting sharply with the dark brown forest floor, and flashing in the human eyes which peered up from beneath the green water. Effigy posts, with doves, pelicans, and other birds carved on the tops stood watch around the pond.
Pondwader nodded respectfully to the birds before he crouched beside Dogtooth. “I am here, Grandfather, and eager to learn whatever you would teach me.”
Kelp stood behind Pondwader, gazing down into the Pond.
Some of the faces had been sheathed with silt so that they seemed to be wearing clay masks—others, the more recently dead, looked fully alive. Kelp’s heart began to pound.
Because of the cold in the afterworld, her clan dressed the dead in warm clothing and wrapped them snugly in blankets. Then the Spirit Elders submerged the bodies in the water, and gently turned them onto their left sides, so that their heads pointed west and their faces looked north—down the long cold tunnel they would have to swim to reach the Village of Wounded Souls.
Kelp leaned over to look into Aunt Fin’s eyes. She seemed … sad. A few of her precious belongings glinted in the sunlight, a shark’s tooth necklace, an oak pestle, two long darts, and her favorite atlatl with the engraved deerbone foreshaft.
To prevent their loved ones from being dragged from the portal by predators, the Spirit Elders drove an oval frame of fire-sharpened stakes through the blankets into the ground, pinning the bodies down. People dragged from the portal before they’d begun their journey might wander the earth forever, never finding a way to the Village of Wounded Souls. These souls would be so lonely, they might actually kill their relatives in revenge.
Dogtooth propped the point of his stake on the ground and peered seriously at Pondwader. “Come closer, Pondwader. Sit here beside me.” He tilted his head to indicate the place and his antlers slipped to the left. “Oh, my,” he said as the sharp points dipped toward his shoulder. He hastily righted the headdress and sighed.