She placed the conch shell back on the sand and lifted her face to the silver wash of starlight. Long hair fluttered about her shoulders. The world smelled of fish and seaweed. Against the glossy black undercoat of night, the Shining People shone with unusual brilliance, like small blue, white, and yellow fires pushed this way and that by the winds of the Daybreak Land.
“Father … please, don’t tell anyone about my dreams. They would just frighten people. And I—I must let the hope go, or I will never be able to hoard enough strength to do the things I must to safeguard our clan.” She peered up at him. “Please, I could not bear to hear people talking about how Diver might be alive. It would make things … harder.”
“Whatever you wish.”
Rising to her feet, she hugged him. “Thank you, Father.”
Seedpod lovingly stroked her back. “You do not need to thank me. I am on your side. I always have been.”
She nodded against his hair and whispered, “I know. I thank Sun Mother every day for you.”
Slowly, they began the journey back to the council shelter. Seedpod and Moonsnail had argued all afternoon and half the night, but they had not settled their negotiations. At dawn the entire Heartwood council of Spirit Elders would meet to discuss the marriage; it might be a very long day.
“Try to sleep,” he said. “There is no telling what foolishness tomorrow might bring.”
“I will … try,” she answered tiredly. “But I make no guarantees.”
“Blessed … Spirits!” Beaverpaw gasped. He lay on his back in a soft pile of autumn leaves, staring up at the dark oak boughs that made a lacy filigree against the star-studded indigo sky. He clawed at the leaves at his sides. Dark Rain bent over him, her mouth working expertly, sucking his seed from his body. Her huge breasts dragged across his belly. He gasped again. Every time cascades of her shining hair fell over her face, obscuring her from his view, she carelessly tossed them back—wanting him to watch. Shameless. She had positioned herself so that all he had to do was turn his head to look directly between her open legs. What a glorious woman! Long legs turned into broad hips and narrowed to a tiny waist, then swelled into those magnificent breasts. “Brother … Earth!” he cried out and bucked against her mouth. She stayed with him, working him. When finally he fell back against the leaves, exhausted, she sat up and sensually used her fingers to comb long hair away from her beautiful face.
“Dark Rain,” he whispered. “Where did you learn such things?”
“I have been many places, Beaverpaw,” she replied tonelessly. “Fortunately I like adventurous men, and they like me.” She ran her pink tongue over her lips, slowly. “They like me … very much.”
“I understand why,” he answered. His manhood actually ached. How many times had she nursed him to ecstasy this night, and without demanding anything in return? Though he had given her her share. What a strange, exotic creature she was. Almost … inhuman. She frightened him a little.
Dark Rain leaned forward and kissed him. “Tell me what Musselwhite said. About my son. About this marriage. Is she going to go through with it?”
Beaverpaw exhaled heavily. “Repeating things Musselwhite said is suicidal, Dark Rain. Besides, I have already told you everything important. She did not wish to speak to me about private, matters. Her words were of war.”
“War. Who cares about war?” Her mouth puckered into a pout. She rolled over on top of him and began moving in a rhythm as old as men and women.
“Dark Rain, forgive me. I am truly expended. I do not think I can—”
“But you will tell me, won’t you? When Musselwhite speaks about this marriage. You’ll come to me immediately and let me know what she says?”
Dark Rain slid forward, bringing her huge dark nipple to his mouth, moving it around his lips. To his surprise, he felt himself responding.
“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her flesh. “Of course. Of course, I will.”
Eleven
“Are you sleeping, eyeless boy?”
I wake with a startled grunt and squint into the darkness. Turtle Bone Doll perches on the swaying fabric bag over my head. Every time the bag creaks and rocks, she leans the opposite direction.
“I’m not sleeping now,” I say, and add, “what are you doing, leaning like that? Trying to keep your balance?”
“No, no. I’ve made myself part of the bag’s Dance with the wind. Haven’t you ever done that? Tried to be a part of another soul’s Dance?”
“Well, no. It never occurred to me that I could. Though I’m not sure why I’d want to.”