People of the Lightning(180)

Yes, though his own souls were ripping apart, he had been there that day, his love encircling her like a stone fortress. He had always been there, loving her, protecting her with passionate loyalty, battling enemies, his clan, even their own children … anyone who dared to criticize her knew the depths of his wrath.

She opened her eyes, and gazed blindly at a tiny flame that sputtered on the far side of the firepit.

Diver is the only dream I ever had that lived and breathed, and walked at my side.

She had been trying to prepare herself for what she would find. Cottonmouth had certainly tortured him. But how badly would Diver be hurt? Could he run? Would she have to carry him? She would, if necessary. If necessary, she would die to see that he lived. And do it without a second thought, knowing how much their children needed and loved him … . How much she loved him. Her souls kept throwing taunts at her, Diver without any feet or hands. Diver with both of his eyes gone.

The only possibility she could not contemplate was that he might be dead.

Her head fell forward. No matter what …

Pondwader’s pained voice broke her thoughts.

“No,” he whispered. “Oh, no. Please. I—I can’t …”

Musselwhite rose and went to crouch at his side. His fingers weakly dug into the soft forest duff, as if he fought to escape some terror. Sweat gleamed like raindrops on his pale moonlit cheeks.

“Pondwader,” she whispered. “It’s all right. Everything is all right.”

He moaned and clutched at his blanket.

Musselwhite smoothed the drenched white hair away from his face. What a precious young man. And how much he had come to mean to her. Given the dangers they would face tomorrow night, it was no wonder nightmares tormented him. He knew nothing of war. He must be terrified.

Musselwhite leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. “Pondwader?” she whispered. “I’m here. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m right here beside you.”

A tear welled at the corner of his left eye and ran down his temple. In a faint voice, he said, “My wife?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

Pondwader sat up in his blanket and peered at her. His wide pink eyes had a silvered cast. Wet white hair framed his face, making him look ghostly.

“Oh, Musselwhite,” he said. “I have been talking with Turtle Bone Doll. Did you see her? She was just here! She flew down and stood right in the middle of my chest.”

“No, I didn’t see her. I’m sorry.” She stroked his arm, trying to soothe him.

Pondwader let out a halting breath. “She—she rushed here from Standing Hollow Horn Village. I’ve never seen her in such a panic! She is usually overbearing and confident, but tonight she was talking so fast that I—”

“What did she want?”

Pondwader’s mouth trembled. “She said to tell you that your plans will not work.”

A prickle ran the length of Musselwhite’s arms. It took monumental effort not to shiver. “Why not? Has something gone wrong?”

Pondwader shook his head. “I don’t know. She told me only that she knew another way we might be able to penetrate Cottonmouth’s defenses. She couldn’t guarantee it, but—”

“Tell me.” Musselwhite sat down cross-legged beside Pondwader, drew his hand into her lap and held it tightly. “I want to know every word.”





I lie here, gazing up at the starry heavens, saturated with dread. The Shining People have driven Sister Moon into the Village of Wounded Souls for the rest of the night, and reclaimed the Daybreak Land. Fuzzy twinkles and spurts of yellow and pale blue light the heavens. I watch them fly about. Terror has become a living thing inside me. I have never been this afraid in my life.

I turn to peer at the sandstar pendant. After we wore ourselves out talking, Musselwhite curled beside me under the blanket, and rested her cheek on the pendant. Just the edge of the shell sticks out.

The Lightning Bird inside me has been crying. Whimpering soft and low, like distant storm winds. I don’t know why. But it has to do with the sandstar—and Turtle Bone Doll. The weeping began at the very instant Turtle Bone Doll appeared in the sky above me, spiraling down, leaving a brilliant golden trail. But the crying didn’t stop when she flew away. It grew louder when Musselwhite rolled to her side and the sandstar fell from the front of her tunic.

I can feel the baby Bird reaching out to touch that sandstar, yearning desperately to hold the shell.

And there is nothing I can do to help. I feel so anxious and confused, I …

My fingers creep across the blanket and touch the shell.

A warm flood of contentment filters through my body, so sweet and quiet. The crying stops.