Diver gently touched her cold cheek. “Are you ready?”
She nodded; tears glistened in her eyes. Hastily, she started to walk away.
Diver gripped her hand, pulled her back, and embraced her tightly. “This is me,” he whispered, twining the last of the loose threads of his souls together. “It’s all right to cry for him.”
Dark Rain walked along the beach south of the abandoned village, her arm linked with young Littlehorn’s. She smiled to herself as she watched her slim brown feet splash in the foamy surf rushing over the white sand. A fresh vibrancy filled her, like a fire kindled in her loins that spread to all of her body. The catastrophe had brought about her rebirth.
Lucky enough to have survived the tornado, she’d capitalized on the destruction of Standing Hollow Horn Village; her pack bulged with wealth she’d picked up. Getting some of the necklaces, points, and shells had necessitated the greatest of delicacy, since she’d had to sneak around after dark to loot the corpses. People were so narrow-minded when it came to the dead.
She tightened her grip on Littlehorn’s arm. He reciprocated by snaking the arm around her, his hand cupping her breast. He hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d crawled into his robes three nights ago, just after the tornado.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. At the age of ten-and-six summers, he had little experience—but extraordinary endurance. Not to mention the fact that he had gained enormous status by herding everyone off the beach before the tornado struck. The surviving Spirit Elders of Standing Hollow Horn had declared him War Leader.
She butted him with her hip and smiled slyly to herself as his grip on her breast tightened. He would do. For a time, at least.
“What’s that?” Littlehorn asked, pointing with his free hand.
Dark Rain’s eyes narrowed. She reached down into the cold foamy surf and picked up the object, ignoring the fact that Littlehorn used the opportunity to feel between her legs.
It gleamed in the wan light penetrating the mist. She turned it over, saw the owner’s mark on the back … and her heart leapt. She had heard the stories—in fact, from the moment of Standing Hollow Horn’s destruction, she’d heard of little else. Cottonmouth and the turtle bone doll. Cottonmouth … and the awl.
“What is it?” Littlehorn repeated as he rubbed against her buttocks.
She hastily tucked it into her belt, stood, and hugged him. “Just an old deerbone. I’m bored, Littlehorn. There must be a game going on somewhere. Let’s find it.”
Littlehorn frowned, distracted by her body moving against his. “But what are you going to do with an old deerbone?”
Dark Rain smiled seductively. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a use for it.”
Forty-six
What do you mean, “what happened then?” This is Dark Rain we’re talking about, child. Let me see … . I think the witch’s name was Bog Sparrow. He paid her a huge sum, too.
Hmm?
Indeed, he did. Pondwader lived to a very old age. I sometimes think he may have been the happiest man who ever walked the earth. Musselwhite grew to love him very much, and he never stopped flashing and soaring.
Oh, yes. He thundered, too. In fact, his ability to thunder made him one of the greatest Healers ever. Why people would come for three or four moons’ walk away just to have Pondwader touch them, and …
Wait. Let me lean forward. Now, speak up!
Naturally, they did. Kelp and Diamondback married the following summer. Kelp became a great warrior woman, even more renowned than Musselwhite had been. You would not believe the things she accomplished.
What?
… Do you? How about the rest of you? Would you like to hear that story, too?
Why, of course, I will. Just the fact that you’d ask warms my old heart. That’s what I do, after all.
I keep the legends alive.
Now, all of you come closer. This has grown to quite a crowd, and I’m not as young as I used to be. All right, children, sit up straighter. I won’t have anybody slouching in my audience. Can all of you hear me?
Good. Let’s see …
What was that? Something flew by me.
A rock!
Who did that? You! What’s your name? You’re new here. Well, that was very rude. Never throw rocks at a Storyteller! Stories are sensitive things! You can’t just …
Oh! Yes, yes. I am Thorny Boy, son of Musselwhite and Diver.
Let me settle myself again, and knot this blanket around my shoulders. The night has picked up quite a chill, hasn’t it?
And that’s just the way it was when Kelp came home from a war walk to Coral Isle and found Diamondback lying wounded in the brush, and all of her children gone. Why, she nearly went mad with fear. But it all had to do with that wicked awl, you see. Many summers before, Pondwader had tried to purchase it back from Bog Sparrow, but that old witch had other ideas. He knew that one of Kelp’s children had grown into a very great Soul Dancer, and he thought that if he could capture that child and …