Bowfin gestured nonchalantly. “What do I care? I have nothing here to hold me. No wife. No children. I don’t even like my family. Both of my cowardly brothers hate me for the great warrior I have become. Running away does not sound so bad to me. Perhaps I may find another clan that will appreciate my talents.”
Beaverpaw let his head fall forward, and stared blindly at the dew drops on the oak leaves covering the ground. “How could they have found out? It just doesn’t make sense! We never even touched in the village and we—”
“Perhaps that child you chased off told his parents what he’d seen. Who cares?” Dark Rain said as she stood on her tiptoes and bit Beaverpaw’s chin. “Come on. It will be fun.” Her hand slid down to his crotch. “If you run away with me, I guarantee I will take good care of this.”
Sixteen
You’re a thoughtful child. I could have refilled my cup myself, but I appreciate your help. My hands aren’t near as steady as they used to be. This bone-stiffening disease gets worse every—Yes, that’s full. Thank you—every summer. Some day you will understand that the only things that matter in life are a cup of warm tea, a blanket on a cold night, and the touch of someone you love. All else is just clutter. Umm, that’s good tea. Where did you find the mint in this season? Well; it’s quite good, even if it is from dried leaves.
Now, let me see, where was I?
Hmm? … Oh, yes, Diver …
Things were not going well for him. Despite Diver’s efforts, being in Standing Hollow Horn Village was beginning to take a toll. Doubts had entered Diver’s mind. He could no longer be certain that the woman he loved with all his heart was innocent of the crimes Cottonmouth claimed. And just the possibility that Musselwhite might have been able to hide such a cruel streak from him for two-tens-and-five summers had upended his world.
What? Talk louder! I can’t hear a word you’re saying.
… Well, think about it. When people fall in love, child, they fall and break their necks. They walk around wounded for moons after that, and the only way to ease the pain is to learn how to crawl into your lover’s heart and make a home there. Love involves an intimacy which is closer and more precious than anything in the world. In a very real sense, lovers live inside each other all the time, even when they are far apart.
So Diver was suffering the anguish of uncertainty. The possibility that his wife might have kept something from him—and not just that she would, but that she could keep something from him—had left him empty and aching.
Hmm?
Oh, no. It was just uncertainty. Diver loved her too much to be angry. Besides, he had saved all his rage for his captor. And Cottonmouth was obsessed with Diver, like a man who has just had one of the Shining People fall through the roof of his shelter, and has the chance to speak with a god … .
“Leave me alone!” Diver shouted, and threw his rabbit-scapula spoon into his bowl of fish soup. Warm liquid splashed out on his hand. “Won’t you even let me eat in peace?”
Cottonmouth waved his guards back, and waited until they had walked two tens of paces away, out of hearing range, before he dipped his hand into the insect grease gourd hanging from the northwestern shelter pole and rubbed it on his arms and chest as he slowly walked around the shelter to sit down with his back braced against the southeastern shelter pole, facing Diver. He had pulled his long hair away from his face and twisted it into a bun. The fires of sunset turned his silver temples a pale pink hue.
Sun Mother had sent out crimson light to blanket Sea Girl and transform her whitecaps into frothy carnelian. A short distance from shore, dolphins fished the shallows, their dorsal fins weaving through the water. Frightened mullets leaped before them, breaking the surface to sail in the air for a few glorious moments, before diving down again.
Diver looked at his own food. Clams, seaweed, and chunks of sunfish floated in the broth. It smelled wonderful. The sight of Cottonmouth had made him lose his appetite, but he ate ravenously anyway, using his scapula spoon to lift out the chunks of fish. They fed him once a day, if he was lucky, and this soup tasted delicious. When he ate, they usually untied his hands and feet, and for a short time the numbness and pain went away. Not to mention the fact that he could slap mosquitoes; the pesky insects drove him mad when he was tied up. No one, it seemed, wanted to waste insect grease on him, so red welts covered Diver’s whole body, including the sensitive areas beneath his breechclout. Cottonmouth had ordered the old hag Starfish to provide him with the breechclout yesterday, for which Diver was very grateful, though the wrap of cloth did little to protect the rest of his body. He itched feverishly.