“You’re not sure why you’d want to! Blessed ghosts.” She just stares for a long time, then asks, “ … Do you know the story of the Catfish People?”
“Which story?”
“In the beginning catfish were humans, but their brains were combed out by an evil witch, and they were forced to march north to live with First Catfish. Sealed in that cold land by a wall of snowstorms, First Catfish made the stupid catfish his slaves. Every time one of the stupid catfish did something wrong, First Catfish shoved the offender into the river, hoping he would drown. Finally, First Catfish had shoved all of his slaves in, but instead of drowning, Sun Mother gave them gills. They swam all over the earth and that’s how they became food for humans and eagles.”
“I’ve never heard that story before. Does it have a point?”
“I was just wondering if you’d met that same evil witch.”
A gust shoves the bag and it starts swinging in little whining circles. Turtle Bone Doll leaps up every time the bag makes a complete turn, and when she lands she whines a different note in time with the bag’s Song. Her ratty tunic flies about. Her hair, what little there is of it, appears freshly washed. It glints when she jumps.
“Why are you here?”
“That egg in your chest has been thundering so loudly the whole world is awake. I haven’t slept in days.”
“You sleep? I didn’t know dolls had to sleep.”
“You are amazing. Truly. At this very instant, the deliverer’s heart and lungs are forming inside you, being constructed of pure light, and all you can think to ask me is if I have to sleep?”
I feel suddenly as stupid as the Catfish People with combed-out brains. Contrite, I say, “Is that why the egg has started to glow so brightly? Sometimes, it blinds me inside. And it gets hot. Very, very hot. As if I have a raging fire in my heart.” I rub the sore spot on my chest.
“You do have. And you must learn to Dance with that soul, Pondwader. As quickly as you can.”
“Why? What difference will it make?”
Turtle Bone Doll whines a new note in time with the bag’s Song, this one so much lower it accents Sea Girl’s deep voice. After several choruses, she stops, and turns to peer at me again. “There is a great storm coming, Pondwader. The storm is Darkness itself. And Cold, like a freezing black abyss. If the world is to live, it will need all the light and warmth it can get. Every twinkle being born in that tiny thunderegg is a shout of joy, and a promise that Life will continue. Listen and remember. If you live … you must tell the story.”
“If I live?”
“I guarantee you will tell no stories if you refuse to Dance with that Lightning Bird’s blinding soul.”
“But how do I do that?”
“Firstly, give up your human feet. You are fighting very hard to keep them firmly planted on the ground. You must learn to soar and flash and thunder.”
“And then what?”
A faint grimace twisted Turtle Bone Doll’s painted face. “ … When you have accomplished all that, call me.”
The morning dawned cool, with the smell of distant rain scenting Sea Girl’s breath. Diver inhaled deeply, enjoying the feel of his lungs moving. He lay on his stomach on the shelter floor, looking out at the ocean, his feet bound to the northeastern post, hands tied behind his back. The red welts of burns on his arms and legs hurt unbearably, and high fever roasted his body. Sweat poured from his face, stinging his eyes. Dirty strands of black hair fell over his left eye, but with his right he could see Sun Mother edging above the horizon, just a sliver of gold. Amber light flooded the water, twinkling and glimmering, dyeing the white caps yellow. Gauzy luminescent patches of cloud seemed to jump out from the deep blue background. Such beauty. He thanked Sun Mother that she had allowed him to live long enough to witness it.
There had been no honor in his torture! They were not trying to gain valuable information from him. Cottonmouth just wanted to see Diver in agony. Cottonmouth had stood by, clutching that doll to his bosom, calmly telling his warriors where to place the coals and how long to leave them. The man knew the human body too well. The ordeal had gone on until almost midnight. Diver swallowed down his raw throat. He had screamed. It shamed him … but he had.
Diver rubbed his cheek against the cool mat, trying to find a comfortable position, and heard footsteps approaching from behind him. Diver did not move. He didn’t have to. He had been in Standing Hollow Horn Village for six days, and had memorized those soft, calculated steps. A tingle of anticipation went through him. To bolster his courage, he focused on the squealing gulls strutting over the beach, searching for tiny animals stranded when the tide retreated. Their feathers gleamed with the palest of golds.