People of the Lightning(64)

Unwittingly, Kelp said, “I know where it is, Grandmother. Shall I fetch it for you?”

She had meant to be helpful, and when it dawned on her what she’d said, Kelp let out a sharp yip. “Oh! I didn’t mean—”

Dark Rain exploded, “Yes, you did, you little—!”

“Do fetch it, Kelp.” Moonsnail smiled grimly.

As Kelp leaped up to find Moonsnail’s walking stick, Dark Rain glowered. “I’m leaving.”

“I thought you would.”

Dark Rain lifted her chin and stalked away.

Kelp ran back with Moonsnail’s walking stick and handed it to her. “Grandmother, really, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

“Do you think it would bother me if you had? Sit down, girl. Let us talk for a time.”

Kelp knelt on the mats at Moonsnail’s feet, and began fussing with the hem of her tunic, creasing it with her fingernails. “What? Have I done something bad?”

Moonsnail braced her walking stick before her and propped her hands on the polished knob. “Well, that remains to be seen. Tell me what you know about Beaverpaw.”

Kelp’s head came up like a startled stork’s. “I—I don’t know anything.”

“Oh, yes, you do. Did you think I’d miss that sour expression on your face when Seedpod suggested Beaverpaw go to survey the new village location? Well, I didn’t. So, tell me what you know.”

“Grandmother …” Kelp twisted her hands, looking miserable. “Really, I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Moonsnail batted her in the shoulder with her walking stick. Kelp flinched. “Does it have something to do with your mother? I noticed that when you frowned Dark Rain grinned like a coyote digging into a burrow filled with newborn rabbits. Are she and Beaverpaw consorting?”

Kelp deflated with relief. “Thank the Spirits you already know.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, I—I saw them, in the forest last night. Mother was … lying on the ground … and Beaverpaw …” Red climbed her cheeks.

Moonsnail’s gray brows plunged down over her bulbous nose, and she gripped her stick more firmly. Anger rose in her breast, fit to burst her ribs. “I must be getting old not to have suspected as much.”

“But Grandmother,” Kelp whispered and leaned forward confidentially. “I thought you knew!”

“The only thing I knew was that you knew something.”

“Oh, Grandmother, I’m scared. Beaverpaw has a wife and seven children! If Mother ever found out that I’d … she would think I’d been spying on her and …” Kelp closed her eyes tightly. “Blessed Spirits, I just went out into the forest to relieve my bladder. I never wanted this.”

“You should thank your bladder, girl. It’s fortunate for the clan that you discovered this.”

“But, Grandmother, how could Mother even think about—”

“She doesn’t think, child. Not ever. If she can’t feel it in her private places, it doesn’t interest her.” Moonsnail grunted, disgusted with herself. She used to have the sharpest eyes in the village where such things were concerned. Had age blinded her woman’s sensibilities? Now there was a truly horrifying thought. “You know, I have seen your mother giving Beaverpaw the eye once or twice. But, Blessed Forest Spirits! Tadpole-faced Beaverpaw, and the beautiful Dark Rain? Who would have thought! Your mother must have found a way to use him to her advantage. Though I can’t imagine what. I suppose I should feel sorry for him.”

Kelp reached out and squeezed Moonsnail’s hands where they rested on the walking stick. Her young fingers felt warm and strong. “What will happen, Grandmother?”

“Well, your mother is already an Outcast. There’s nothing more we can do to her. Besides, she is an unmarried woman and it is acceptable for her to flit around like a bee searching for nectar. I used to wonder if that was why she always refused to marry. She knew it would curtail her ‘flitting.’ … Beaverpaw is another matter. The punishments for adultery are severe.”

“Will … will he be killed?”

Moonsnail shrugged. “It will be up to the council of Spirit Elders. If Waterbearer still wants him, the punishment will be light, but if Waterbearer gets mad and decides to take revenge for his unfaithful ways … Well, Beaverpaw will have fathered his last child—and be lucky not to bleed to death.” She sighed. “Then again, maybe we’ll just cast him out. I can’t say.”

“I’m sure it’s Mother’s fault, Grandmother. You know how wicked she is! Why can’t we just—” She looked up suddenly. “They’re here!” A smile came to her lips as she leaped to her feet.