People of the Lightning(166)

Seedpod stepped closer. “What about Musselwhite and Pondwader? Have you Dreamed about them, Dogtooth? Are they all right?”

Moonsnail turned to Dogtooth, who appeared to be considering the question. She had assumed from his words about Beaverpaw and Musselwhite’s plan to rescue Diver that they must be safe—but Dogtooth’s hesitation made her heart pound. Could something terrible have happened after that event? She waited, scrutinizing every wrinkle in the old Soul Dancer’s face. “Well?” she demanded. “Are they all right?”

Dogtooth rubbed the toe of his sandal over the pine needles in the trail. “Fine.”

“Fine? If they’re fine, why did it take you so long to answer?” Moonsnail asked.

Dogtooth folded his arms across his chest, and considered his reply carefully for several moments, before saying, “Puzzles are the heart of Spirit Dreams.”

“What puzzles?” she asked.

Seedpod added, “What could be puzzling about that question? Either they’re fine, or they’re not.”

“Well …” Dogtooth said, and his face softened as he heard the desperation in their voices. “Yes and no.”

“Blessed Spirits,” Moonsnail groaned, “and you looked so sane.”

Seedpod spread his legs to brace himself for a lengthy and difficult discussion. “What puzzle relates to Pondwader and Musselwhite? Where are they now?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” Dogtooth suggested. “We’d better catch up with the rest of the clans soon, or people will fear that the big cat in the woods over there is gnawing our bones.” He gestured with his chin.

Moonsnail whirled around and saw the two yellow eyes glinting beyond a tangle of vines. The cougar’s long tail stretched along the branch where it lay, like a golden snake against the brown bark. Every so often, the tail switched back and forth, as if to shoo flies, then went still again.

Seedpod’s hand lowered to his belted stiletto. “I agree,” he said. “Let’s walk.”

Seedpod led the way, and Dogtooth fell in behind Moonsnail, humming to himself.

“Dogtooth,” Seedpod called over his shoulder. “Please finish what you were saying. What was the puzzle about Pondwader and Musselwhite?”

“Oh! Last night, I Dreamed that Kelp, Diamondback, and Dace were following Musselwhite’s trail across a fallen log which bridged a small pond, and Musselwhite and Pondwader were watching them.”

Moonsnail said, “What’s so mysterious about that? It sounds like they finally found each other.”

“Well,” Dogtooth replied, “not exactly. You see, Pondwader and Musselwhite were watching them from beneath the water. I saw their faces on the bottom of the pond.”

Seedpod halted so fast that Moonsnail ran into him, and stumbled backwards. She had to take quick action, bracing her walking stick, to keep from falling.

Seedpod clenched his fists at his sides. “You mean … they were dead? Buried in the pond?”

Dogtooth peered at Seedpod. “No, no. I mean, I don’t think so. But how curious that such a possibility never occurred to me. I suppose it’s conceivable. I hadn’t—”

“That makes no sense,” Moonsnail said. “If they were dead and buried in that pond, how could Diamondback be following their trail across the log?”

“And Cottonmouth’s warriors,” Seedpod added, “would never have buried them. They would have left both to rot.”

Dogtooth rubbed a hand over his chin. “There is that,” he agreed.

Moonsnail exchanged a worried glance with Seedpod. The three walked in silence for a time, weaving around a hillock and entering a shadowed section of the trail floored with fallen acorns. Dogtooth’s “puzzle” had made Moonsnail’s knees go weak. She had to slow down to make sure she did not turn an ankle on the acorns. Seedpod gripped her arm to steady her. In the distance, they saw people standing in small groups, talking, waiting for them. Children had taken the opportunity to play. They chased each other through the trees with sweet childish laughter. Polished Shells had walked several paces back down the trail, and stood in a well of mottled sunlight, a hand up to shield her eyes as she looked for Moonsnail. Little Darter and Thorny Boy raced around her legs.

Moonsnail lifted a hand to her daughter, and Polished Shells waved and smiled her relief. When Thorny Boy saw Seedpod, he ran forward, his little legs pumping, and grabbed his grandfather around the leg. Seedpod smoothed the boy’s black tangled hair.

“Are you having fun, Thorny Boy?” Seedpod asked.

Thorny Boy looked up at him. Dirt splotched his pug nose and streaked his plump cheeks. The headband which kept his tangled hair out of his eyes sat at an angle. “Yes, Grandfather. I like Little Darter. She—”