People of the Lightning(82)

Pondwader pulled up his hood to block the chilly night wind. He would find her. No matter what it took. Even if he had to ask the instrument of his own death, the baby Lightning Bird glowing in the cage of his chest. The creature never slept. It kept darting about his ribs, making him flinch and wince, as if it were desperate to strengthen its blue-white wings so it could soar away. The moment Pondwader had stepped out of the trees and spread his arms to the enemy warriors, a rumble of thunder had begun racing through his veins—and had not stopped. His whole body continued to quake from it.

He whispered, “Baby Bird, I wish you would stop that.”

The rumble continued, and Pondwader sighed and gazed out at the ocean. To his poor eyes, Sister Moon seemed a huge silver smear that filled half the night sky, and the moonlight upon the water resembled the beach in bright daylight, white and glimmering. Once, when they’d been very young, Kelp had tried to teach him what things really looked like. Since he could see things up close, she had taken a clam shell, cut it into a circle about the size of Sister Moon as she really appeared in the sky, and laid it in Pondwader’s palm. He’d been amazed at how small she was! What? A circle of silver only a little larger than his childish palm? Impossible! After his grandmother had assured him Kelp was telling the truth, he’d never again looked at the night sky the same way. If Sister Moon were that small, what about the huge glorious Shining People? Were they nothing more than thorn pricks of light? It had all been very confusing. He thanked Sun Mother that he’d had Kelp to help him learn these lessons.

Pondwader lowered his head and studied the old leaves that had blown onto the coarsely woven floor mats. He missed Kelp. And his grandmother. He missed all of Heartwood Village. No matter how much he wanted to be here with Musselwhite—or how much he knew he had to be here—he couldn’t seem to comfort his souls. He …

Musselwhite walked out of the forest no more than forty hands away. A stocky warrior emerged behind her, and Pondwader lurched to his feet, pulse racing. The entire village looked up.

Thorny Boy yelled, “Mother! Mother!” and sprinted for her with his little chest thrown out. Seedpod and Diamondback followed close on the boy’s heels.

Musselwhite knelt and Thorny Boy rushed into her arms. She hugged him tightly and reached out a hand to Diamondback. Her older son gripped her fingers and smiled.

Seedpod slapped the warrior on the shoulder. “Black Urchin,” he said. “It is good to see you. All the children are Singing your honor and telling the story of how you fought four enemy warriors to save them.”

Black Urchin made a light gesture. A short, stocky man, he had so much muscle packed on his bones he resembled a small bear. “I saved a handful—but so many more died, Seedpod.”

“Yes,” Seedpod replied softly. “I know. Tomorrow, after we have buried our dead, we will pack up and head south. We will be joining Heartwood Clan at Manatee Lagoon.”

Black Urchin nodded. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear that. Have you told the others yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“May I?” He held a hand out to the people roaming the village like lost souls. “I think it will ease some of their terror.”

“Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

Their voices sounded so warm, loving, that Pondwader longed to walk over and join them, but he did not wish to interfere in their reunion  . As Black Urchin walked away, Seedpod clenched his hands into fists and stood waiting. When Thorny Boy let go of Musselwhite and she rose, Seedpod placed both hands on her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, as if knowing something dreadful had happened just from his wrinkled face. Her eyes had gone hard, blazing.

“Diver is alive. He—”

“Alive?” Musselwhite said in disbelief. “Where? Where is he? Where is my husband?” Her eyes searched the village. She shoved off Seedpod’s hands, but he grabbed her shoulders again before she could run, his grip so tight his fingers dimpled the fabric of her blood-splotched tunic.

“He’s not here,” Seedpod said. “He’s being held captive in Standing Hollow Horn Village. Cottonmouth—”

For a moment, she seemed to sway under the impact of those words. Seedpod’s arm went around her waist to steady her. “He’s all right, Musselwhite.”

“Yes, Mother. He is,” Diamondback rushed to add. “Cottonmouth sent a messenger to tell us. He—”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Of course, he did.” The buried rage in her voice made it shake. “He could not stand it that I might think Diver dead. What else did the messenger say?”