Thunder shakes me.
I stiffen my muscles, fighting to be still.
Through that roar, I hear a voice … soft, and low, calling my name.
For over two hands of time, Kelp had been standing at the edge of the water, watching silver-crested waves gently rolling toward her, washing around her feet, and politely listening to Seedpod, her grandmother, and another old warrior, Floating Stick, discuss Cottonmouth. They spoke in hushed tones about burned villages and killed babies, about the destruction of Windy Cove’s scouting party and the certainty of widespread warfare.
“Yes, I do believe that,” Seedpod said. The Shining People filled the sky with their twinkling splendor, peering down upon them, listening, watching. Seedpod exhaled hard. “Cottonmouth has lost all of his souls. I’m sure he’s mad. Completely mad. There have been rumors of strange behavior for summers, but—”
“It would frighten me far more,” Moonsnail commented, “if he were sane. Such crazy acts from a sane man would make me fear he had a plan.”
“Plan?” Floating Stick asked. A tall, gangly old man, he had sparse gray hair and a hooked nose. He had dressed in a dark brown tunic adorned with fig shells. “What are you saying?”
“Just that he might not be acting from hatred or … or revenge,” Moonsnail said. Her tone had grown ominous. “I cannot believe that Cottonmouth is either a fool, or mad—forgive me Seedpod. I mean no disrespect. I just wonder if these random strikes at scattered villages aren’t designed to have a certain effect on us.”
Seedpod rubbed his chin and his eyes narrowed. “You mean an effect like forcing us to create alliances through marriage? To strengthen our defenses?”
“Maybe,” Moonsnail replied. “Or maybe to force us to move our villages together.”
“But why would he want that?” Floating Stick asked. “What could he gain—”
“He would have us all in one place, for one thing.” Moonsnail said.
The breeze ruffled Seedpod’s white hair over his forehead as he stared unblinking at Moonsnail. “Blessed Sister Moon. You just terrified me. It had never occurred to me that he might …”
The elders continued talking, but Kelp stopped listening. She didn’t think she could stomach another word about death and war. Gazing back at the village, she watched the Dancers twirling and leaping in the orange light of the bonfire’s flames. The storm had broken, leaving patches of dark clouds drifting westward. Children lay at the edges of the plaza, sleeping on wind-tousled blankets. Old men and women had gathered near the council shelter with their small square looms, weaving while the last revelers stubbornly continued Dancing and Singing to celebrate the newly married couple.
Kelp had seen Musselwhite guide Pondwader down the deer trail that led to their marriage shelter, and he had looked ill. Was he all right? Had he been able to—to do what he needed to? Kelp blushed just thinking about it. She had yet to grow accustomed to the notion that her brother had taken a wife. An odd sort of mourning had overcome her. Never again would she and Pondwader go adventuring in the forest, looking for ghosts or cagey earth Spirits that lived in hollowed-out trees. Never again would they sit and tell each other secrets buried deep in their hearts. Who would she talk to? Who could she share her troubles with? No one knew her the way Pondwader did.
Reaching up, she absently jingled her top shell necklace, and the elders turned to peer at her. “I—I’m sorry. Grandmother, please excuse me, I drank so much prickly pear tea, I need to make a trip into the forest.”
Moonsnail gave her a suspicious look. Blast her. She always knew when Kelp was lying. Kelp fidgeted nervously. “Really, Grandmother. I need to go … now.”
“Run along then,” Moonsnail said. “When you have finished, see if your aunt needs any help with the final cleanup.”
“I will, Grandmother. Good night, Spirit Elders.”
Seedpod and Floating Stick nodded to her, and Kelp turned and walked slowly up the beach, heading for the large stand of pines just beyond the northernmost edge of the village. A few people in the plaza waved to her, and Kelp waved back. She saw Polished Shells kneeling outside the council shelter with two other women, scrubbing bowls with sand. Their low laughter carried to her. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time. Everyone but her.
Kelp folded her arms and hugged herself. She felt so lonely. What made it worse was that she didn’t understand her upset. This was bound to happen. People married. Even her brother. It was the way of things. Though, Spirits knew, she never planned to. Not if she had to run away and join a pack of wolves. They would certainly be better company than any man her mother might find for her.