People of the Lightning(201)

He reached higher, his white hand like an icy beacon in the storm, and a bolt of lightning exploded on the beach, showering them with shells and sand.

Diver leaped on Musselwhite, pulling her to the ground, shielding her with his own body. From the corner of his eye, he saw Diamondback, Kelp, and Dace dive in different directions.

“Blessed Spirits,” Diver whispered. His ears rang. Black spots flickered before his eyes. He rolled to the side and fearfully looked out to sea where the waterspout had been, then back at the village where the warriors had fled. The wind died down to a soft whimper. “Get up, Musselwhite!” he said. “Now!”

Musselwhite did not seem to hear. She remained stone still, her eyes tight with horror.

Diver jerked around, following her gaze.

An eerie luminescent cocoon swelled around Pondwader. Oddly silent. Shimmering. Foxfire! Diver had seen it once before during a violent lightning storm—every shell on the beach had burned with this same blue fire. It flooded down Pondwader’s arms and legs, following his veins, bathing him in azure light.

Kelp screamed, “Pondwader!” and reached for her brother. The instant her hand penetrated the cocoon …

Glorious, blinding light engulfed them.





Land and sky had merged. People huddled like mice, ankle deep in rainwater. The heavens had opened half a hand of time ago. Mothers clutched children close, holding blankets, matting, old tunics, or anything else they could find, over their heads. The fury of the storm ripped a blizzard of oak leaves from the branches, swirling them down with the deluge of rain. Even the crying children had been shocked into silence.

Moonsnail glared out from beneath her hood. Dogtooth sat in front of her, morose. Seedpod sat to her left, with Thorny Boy in his lap, a blanket pulled around both of them. Floating Stick crouched on his haunches beside Dogtooth. His sparse white hair lay matted to his freckled scalp.

Suddenly, Dogtooth let out a shriek. “Look!” he cried as a monstrous Lightning Bird crackled right over their heads, leaving a trail of pale blue flame. Dogtooth tottered to his feet. “He’s beautiful! He’s so beautiful! Moonsnail, did you ever imagine he would be so magnificent?”

She shouted, “Dogtooth! Sit down before a falling branch knocks your head off!”

The skinny old Soul Dancer cupped a hand to his mouth to shout against the gale, “But I’m so happy!”

“What for?” she demanded. “This is the worst storm we’ve seen since—”

“But Glade’s souls have been reunited at last! He’s on his way to the Village of Wounded Souls! Pondwader is taking him!”

Moonsnail exchanged a glance with Floating Stick, then looked at Seedpod.

Seedpod hugged Thorny Boy tighter, and shrugged. “Who knows?” he said.

Floating Stick braced a hand on the oak trunk and got to his feet, announcing, “I’ll handle this!”

He slogged through the water, and out into the worst of the downpour to grip Dogtooth’s arm, and tug the Soul Dancer back under the protection of the tree.

Floating Stick yelled in Dogtooth’s rain-drenched face, “You old lunatic! That was a Lightning Bird, not a Lightning Boy!”

Dogtooth shook off his hand, and scowled. “You really are demented, aren’t you, Floating Stick?”





Forty-five

Twilight fell in a luminous blue veil over the forest. The clouds had parted, leaving raindrops like transparent beads on every hickory leaf, pine needle, and palmetto frond. Through the lacy canopy of branches, the first Shining People sparkled.

Diamondback took a deep breath of the earthy, pine-sharp night, stretched his hands to the small fire, and looked around the clearing. As the storm dissipated, the temperature dropped, and a biting chill rode the wind. Pondwader lay on the opposite side of the fire under a mound of blankets. His pale pinched face reflected the wavering amber of the flames. Kelp and Dace sat on either side of him. Fear strained the lines of Kelp’s pretty face, pulling the corners of her dark eyes down.

Dace sat frowning at the ground. His mud-splotched tunic clung to his body like a second skin, accentuating the muscles in his arms and shoulders. He’d clamped his strong jaw to keep his worry at bay. Atlatl and darts lay within easy reach … just in case.

He had become a warrior. And more.

When they’d stopped for the evening, Dace had slipped away without a word, darted a brown pelican, and brought it back to camp. While everyone else had been laboring over the wounded Lightning Boy, Dace had plucked the big bird, quietly skewered it on a long stick, and propped it over the fire to roast. He had seen to the group’s needs. Some day, he would make a truly great clan leader.