Musselwhite said, “Thank you, Pondwader.” And she prayed it didn’t rain, because if it did, the water would run in streams into that hollow log and pool around their packs. “It’s time, Pondwader. I promised Beaverpaw we would be there exactly one hand of time after moonrise. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” His throat worked as he swallowed.
He bent down to pick up his belt of coral. “It’s heavy,” he said. His hands had started shaking again.
“Do you think it’s heavy enough? You’ve done this before, I haven’t.”
“Oh, yes. It will be fine. We just need enough to keep us underwater.”
She smiled. “Good. Here, let me tie it on you.”
He handed her the weighted cord. “Thank you. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“You have every right to be nervous,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll calm down once we get into the water.”
“Are you s-sure?”
“Yes,” she said as she knotted the cord around his slim waist. Pondwader lifted his arms to give her room. “I’m going to tie the cord into a bow knot, so you can get out of it quickly if the need arises.”
“I always do, too, whenever I lie on the bottom of the lagoon to listen to the fishes. You never know when a shark might come along and you have to leave quickly.”
Musselwhite tied the face mask on Pondwader’s cord, then put on her own weighted belt, and peered into his anxious face. His white brows had pulled together over his pointed nose. “Has that ever happened to you?”
He shook his head. “No. The sharks and I are friends. We’ve never bothered each other.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she replied. “Talk to them tonight, will you? Tell them we mean them no harm, and would appreciate the same courtesy.”
“Yes, I will, though …” He cocked his head to the sounds of the ocean, waves lapping the shore, gulls squealing and fluttering. “I don’t hear any sharks out there, at least no big ones. No, there are some croakers, and a few dolphins … but no sharks.”
He appeared so earnest, Musselwhite could not tease him about his extraordinary comment. Besides, she wasn’t altogether certain he couldn’t hear what he claimed to. And, more than that, she frankly didn’t feel up to teasing anyone. Every nerve in her body hummed.
She took a deep breath and smiled at Pondwader. “Let’s get started. Do you have the hollow reeds?”
Pondwader pulled three from his belt and handed her two of them. Each had a length of cord attached. “Just be sure not to breathe through your nose,” he advised. “It’s a very frightening feeling.”
“I’m sure that’s true. We won’t need these until the very last anyway. At least I hope not. However, be sure to tuck yours in a convenient place. If warriors appear on the shore, duck your head underwater as fast as you can. When we get close enough to survey the village, we’ll use our turtle-shell facemasks.”
Musselwhite securely tied both reeds to her belt beside her stiletto, and strode for the water. Pondwader followed quietly behind her.
She waded in a short distance, then leaned forward, as if to swim, testing to see if she could touch the silt bottom. The coral belt tugged at her waist more forcefully than she had anticipated. Her knees thumped the bottom. But she found that if she braced her palms on the bottom, too, she could keep her head above the water, and the belt assured that the rest of her body stayed submerged.
The bank curved inward, and Musselwhite crawled along on hands and knees. Pondwader eased up beside her, his hair gleaming like sea foam. From a distance, his white head might also be mistaken for a floating gull, and when they neared the beach the mask would conceal him. Good. She had worried about that, that his face and hair would give them away to their enemies. It wouldn’t, she felt almost certain now. Still, if anyone found them out, Pondwader’s head would provide a clear target for darts.
Water swirled blackly around them, lapping at their throats, and a sudden wave splashed Musselwhite’s face. She closed her eyes, then blinked away the saltwater. Swallows wheeled overhead, swooping low to examine them, then sailing away.
Pondwader whispered, “How much f-further?”
His teeth had started chattering, but she knew it had little to do with the cold water. “Not far. Do you see that point of land jutting into the water ahead?”
He squinted. “No.”
“Trust me, it’s there. As soon as we swim around that point we should see Standing Hollow Horn Village. It sits right on the water.”
“Then what will we do?” His eyes glinted silver when he turned to face her.