People of the Lightning(165)

Moonsnail couldn’t condemn them. They’d stowed the bulk of their belongings in the trees near Manatee Lagoon. Men and women missed their special possessions, the everyday things that made their lives easier, like extra blankets, heavy wooden cooking bowls, large baskets filled with palm thread, cordage, and ropes, while children cried for missing toys. After consulting with the other clan elders, Moonsnail and Seedpod had ordained that only lightweight belongings could be taken, since this would be a short trip, lasting a few days at most. Yet with all the raiding, people understandably feared their possessions might be stolen, or destroyed in the interim.

She dipped another handful of cool, earthy water, as Dogtooth thrashed through the palmettos beside her. Sweat matted his gray hair to his cheeks and made his hooked nose seem all the more prominent. He wore a breechclout and a cowrie shell necklace. Narrow bars of ribs lined his chest. His skinny body looked very old and frail. Using a small wooden cup he dipped up a drink, and swallowed the contents in three gulps, his throat working. Stringy muscles bulged in his calves as he rose to his feet again, and peered down at her. His eyes glinted.

Irreverently, Moonsnail said, “You look sane today.” She cocked her head. “Are you? If so, I’d like to have a talk. If not, I wouldn’t.”

Dogtooth scratched his withered cheek. “I’ve never known how to tell,” he answered.

Moonsnail braced her walking stick, and grunted as she stood up. With her tunic sleeve, she wiped perspiration from her forehead. Dogtooth gave her that enigmatic grin.

“What’s there to smile about?” she demanded. “It’s as hot as boiling stones, we’re being stalked by hungry animals, and people openly accuse me of being demented for forcing them to go on this inland journey.”

“You’re not demented,” Dogtooth said. “You are simply cautious. And they should thank the Shining Ones you are.”

“why?”

“For one thing, Kelp, Diamondback, and Dace are still alive.”

Moonsnail leaned on her stick and eyed him carefully, wondering whether to press him on how he knew that. Behind Dogtooth, swallows dived through the oaks and palms. She couldn’t help herself. She asked, “Are you certain? Have they found Pondwader and Musselwhite yet?”

“No, but Beaverpaw and Dark Rain have. Beaverpaw had a long talk with Musselwhite about Standing Hollow Horn Village. They laid out a very good strategy for freeing Diver.”

“So … Beaverpaw is going to Standing Hollow Horn Village, too? Along with Dark Rain?”

“Oh, yes,” Dogtooth said, and shook a finger emphatically, “and thereby hangs a tale. They weren’t going there originally, but they met a runaway warrior named Hanging Star—he’s the man who killed Dreamstone during the Windy Cove battle—and later Hanging Star killed Bowfin, he—”

“Bowfin is dead?” Moonsnail blurted. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes, he’s quite dead.”

Moonsnail’s heart squeezed tight. He’d been so young, and a fine warrior, if wild. His mother, Plainweave, had spoken of nothing else since he’d gone. She’d narrated every event in her son’s life, every prank he’d pulled, all of which had led to his defection—and blamed herself for each. Bowfin’s brothers had wandered about, defending him to anyone who cared to listen. Moonsnail shook her head. The youth might have been flighty, but he didn’t deserve to die. “Why did this Hanging Star kill him?”

Dogtooth exchanged a knowing glance with her, and Moonsnail nodded. “Over my worthless daughter, eh? Great Whale. I wish you’d told me to bash out her brains when she was born, Dogtooth. A lot of good people would be alive today if I had.”

“And a lot of good people would be dead, too,” he countered, “or rather, never have been born, like Pondwader and Kelp.”

Moonsnail shifted the small pack on her back and made her way through the palmettos onto the trail again. Dogtooth followed her. When they stood facing each other, Moonsnail said, “Yes, you’re right about that. I could never regret the births of my grandchildren. I wish Sandbur had lived to see them grown up.”

They walked side by side, until they reached Seedpod. As Seedpod smiled, his blunt chin jutted out from his gaunt leathery face. White hair lay flat against his head. His breechclout had been dyed bright red, but had faded to a pale pink shade.

“How are you two this afternoon?” Seedpod asked, looking first at her, then at Dogtooth.

“Better now,” Moonsnail answered. “A drink and a short rest helps restore strength. Not only that, Dogtooth just told me that Kelp, Diamondback, and Dace are alive.”