People of the Lightning(169)

Diamondback silently followed the narrow game trail that skirted the western edge of the marsh. Bullfrogs serenaded him as he passed, but the turtles splashed into the water and paddled away. He could just make out the black humps of their shells gliding through widening firelit rings. The night smelled sweetly of moss and burning hickory.

As he curved around the southern end of the marsh, he saw Kelp standing almost hidden in the head-high cattails, and he could hear her soft weeping.

“Kelp?” he called. “It’s Diamondback. Are you—”

“Go away!” she commanded with a vehemence he would have never imagined possible.

Diamondback paused, then continued forward. She turned her back to him. He stopped three paces away and folded his arms. Her long black hair draped her back, falling almost to the hem of her tunic. In the faint gleam of the firelight the wealth of it glimmered. “I can’t go away,” he answered. “Not when I can see that you are sad. What’s wrong, Kelp?”

“Diamondback, just go away, please. I don’t wish to speak of this to—to anyone. Especially not you.”

Shame tinged her voice. She sniffed at her clogged nose, and Diamondback cocked his head. “What is it, Kelp? You can tell me.”

She peered at him over her shoulder, and sobbed, “No, I can’t. I—I don’t know why this happened now! Sun Mother must be punishing me for coming on a war walk without my grandmother’s permission! That must be it, Diamondback!” She whirled around, and shook her fists at him. Tufts of cattail down stuck out between her fingers. “Grandmother Moonsnail was expecting to see me at Manatee Lagoon. She must be worried sick, and it’s all my fault, and Sun Mother is taking out her anger—”

“Kelp …”

Her face puckered as she met and held his gaze. In the bare veneer of firelight, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful. Her eyes swam with tears. He looked again at the thick tufts of cattail down, and nodded to himself. Impulsively, Diamondback reached out and gave her right fist a quick, comforting squeeze, then tightly refolded his arms across his broad chest.

Trying to appear nonchalant, he tipped his chin and examined the pitch black sky. He said, “Let me see, have I been on ten-and-one war walks with women warriors, or is it ten-and-two? The curious thing about war walks is that warriors keep few secrets. Not because they all like each other necessarily, but because the intimacy is just so natural it rarely occurs to anyone to try to hide something. That means that I have—”

“Oh, Diamondback,” she choked out, “this is not a thing of men! If I were home—”

“Yes,” he said gently, “if you were home there would be a great celebration. Your grandmother and aunts and female cousins would be washing and combing your hair, weaving magnificent new clothes for you, cooking a feast …” He stopped when he saw her eyes go wide with understanding.

She turned away from him and covered her face with her cattail-filled fists. The tears shook her shoulders, but she didn’t make a sound.

Diamondback shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clenched his fists, and when he could no longer stand it, threw propriety to the sky, walked forward, and wrapped his arms around her. Without a word, Kelp buried her face against the tunic over his shoulder. He could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through, warming his skin. He longed to laugh. If his mother had been here, she would have taken Kelp aside, as she had done many women warriors before her, Sung a Song of joy, hugged her tightly, and told her to get back to camp before she darted her for stupidity … . But Diamondback could not find it in himself to be so brusque.

He stroked Kelp’s long hair. “Hush. Hush now, my dear young woman. You should be proud. Sun Mother isn’t punishing you. She’s given you the ability to bring children to your clan. There is no greater gift. I’ll admit her timing could have been better, but gods aren’t always considerate.”

Kelp said nothing, and Diamondback bit his lip. He didn’t know what to do except hold her more tightly. Nuzzling his cheek against her hair, he softly said, “May I help you collect more cattail down? The other women warriors I’ve known have always filled their packs when they had the chance, fearing that circumstances might prevent it later on.”

“You—you would help me?”

“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Kelp disentangled herself from his arms and wiped her cheeks on the backs of her hands. When she lifted her head, she looked up at him with gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “F-for everything. I know I have probably disgraced myself in your eyes. I am n-not a warrior today, and I realize that, but I—”