“Yes, but I knew you’d be in a hurry.” Dogtooth moved his redfish away from the flames, and slid it off the cooking stick into a wooden bowl, where it steamed and sizzled.
“How could you have known we’d be in a hurry?” Musselwhite asked warily.
“Pondwader’s brilliant new soul told me.” Dogtooth winked at the boy, who looked even paler, if that were possible. “It blinded one of my Dreams, and rumbled, ‘Go to the seashore at Manatee Lagoon if you wish to speak with Pondwader before he gets toasted like a hickory nut.’” Dogtooth grinned. “So, I did.”
Seedpod exchanged a glance with Musselwhite, and they both shifted to peer at Pondwader. The boy seemed to have turned to stone; he stared unblinking at Dogtooth. In the fluttering orange light of the flames, he looked a little queasy. It was just like Dogtooth to show up unexpectedly and open the conversation with something completely discomfiting.
“Well,” Seedpod said with a smile as he rubbed his hands together, “let’s eat!”
He grabbed up the food bag, doled out goose-legs to Musselwhite and Pondwader, and offered one to Dogtooth, who shook his head in refusal. The old Soul Dancer had begun stripping succulent flesh from his fish and eating it. Pondwader lifted his goose leg to his mouth, but didn’t take a bite. He just stared unblinking over the roasted skin at Dogtooth. What had happened to his hunger? Had the boy gone into some sort of trance? Musselwhite, on the other hand, had already made a big dent in hers, but she was watching Dogtooth just as alertly—which Seedpod didn’t understand. The old man was odd, but not dangerous. Despite the bizarre effect he had on his new son-in-law.
“Pondwader,” Seedpod said. “What’s the matter? You look like the Lightning Birds just darted the earth at your feet.”
The youth opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.
Seedpod leaned over and elbowed Pondwader in the belly, bringing forth a grunt. Pondwader scrambled to straighten, as if he’d awakened from a very vivid nightmare. “Eat!” Seedpod ordered. “Your wife will have us up long before Sun Mother rises, and you will need every bit of strength you can muster.”
Pondwader glanced sheepishly at Musselwhite and obediently bit into his goose leg. Seedpod launched into his as well. The goose tasted so sweet and rich, it made him sigh with contentment.
“Where did you get the goose?” Dogtooth asked as he flipped over his redfish and began tearing flesh from the other side.
“You mean Pondwader’s brilliant new soul didn’t tell you? That was inconsiderate.”
“Oh, not at all,” Dogtooth responded. “Spirits only reveal what is necessary for humans to survive—and sometimes not even that much. They’re greedy that way. Was the goose left over from the marriage feast?”
“Yes. You should have seen it, Dogtooth. Heartwood Clan cooked five geese, and tens of tens of killifish and ducks, and turtles. There were dozens of baskets mounded high with berries, nuts, and fruits. It was truly delightful.”
“Well, Moonsnail is a smart woman,” Dogtooth said affectionately. “She knows how to celebrate a great day for her clan.” He lifted a gnarled finger and pointed at Musselwhite. “Being related to the great Musselwhite will bring Heartwood more honor than it could ever have dreamed of before.” He swallowed a large mouthful of fish. “I suppose it was a good thing that Dark Rain gambled away every item that young Trader gave her. Of course,” Dogtooth added thoughtfully, “he didn’t think so. I’m sure he went off and committed suicide, though naturally no one noticed.”
“What do you mean no one noticed?” Musselwhite asked with a lifted brow. Firelight flickered over her disgusted expression. She finished her goose leg and tossed the bones into the fire where they sent up a black tendril of smoke. “Somebody must have noticed.”
“Not necessarily, my dear child … . Pondwader, you understand what I mean, don’t you?” He reached out to touch the youth’s sleeve, but stopped when Pondwader stiffened as if he’d been struck. Dogtooth squinted at him, then drew his hand back. “No, I suppose not. Well, what I meant is that if a man chooses to go out into the forest and slit his own throat in a makeshift shelter, it’s hardly likely that nearby villagers will discover his dead body for … oh, maybe summers. And maybe never if the wolves and coyotes get to him first.” Dogtooth filled his mouth with more fish and chewed noisily. “So, Pondwader,” he said around the food, “tell us about your death. How was it?”