People of the Lightning(83)

“Nothing, Mother,” Diamondback answered, frowning. “He ran in, delivered his news, and was gone.”

Musselwhite closed her eyes a moment, as if gathering strength, then she walked away so swiftly Seedpod stumbled as she tore free from him. Thorny Boy stood, watching his grandfather and brother, his little face puckered, as if he might cry.

Musselwhite strode into the shelter and passed Pondwader without a word. She reached up, unhooked three small fabric bags from the rafters, then spread them on the floor before her. One bag was empty, the others contained dried meat, fish, and mushrooms. She began stuffing food into the empty bag.

Pondwader said, “You’re going to Cottonmouth’s village, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He went to pick up his own pack, larger than hers, three hands wide and four hands tall. He walked back and crouched before her. She did not even seem to notice as he started filling it with food. “When are we leaving?”

“I am leaving at dawn. I must sleep to rebuild my strength, then I’ll go. If I run all the way, I can be there in three or four days.”

“I’m going with you.”

“I’m going alone.”

“No!” Pondwader shouted. “Please, Musselwhite. You need me! I—”

Her blazing eyes bored into him. Throwing down her pack, she reached out, gripped his shoulders, and shook him hard. “If you never listen to anything else I tell you, Pondwader, listen to me now. I need no one. You will be a burden to me on this war walk. One I cannot afford.”

“But … !”

“Your helplessness will doom us both! And if I die, Diver dies. I will not let that happen.”

She stalked across the shelter and picked a fresh tunic from a pile which lay neatly folded near her bedding along the north side. In a flash, she had pulled her soiled tunic over her head and thrown it on the floor mats. He barely noticed the beauty of her nakedness before she’d slipped the clean tunic on, reached down to remove the old belt from her soiled tunic, and tied it around her slender waist again. Then she dug beneath her blankets, pulled out three darts which had been hidden there—did she always sleep with darts under her bedding?—and pulled a new atlatl from a peg on the shelter pole. She placed all of these items on the floor, lifted her blanket, and crawled into her bedding.

“Musselwhite?” he called. “Let me talk with you more.”

She rolled to her back and closed her eyes. Within moments her breathing had deepened to the rhythms of slumber. Pondwader’s brows drew together as her beautiful face slackened. Did all warriors know how to do that? To fall into a deep sleep instantly? He had heard of such a talent, but he had never witnessed it … . Or was she just pretending sleep? Avoiding him?

Pondwader went over and sat by her side. He drew her weapons onto his lap, holding them in case her enemies returned and came close enough for him to dart them. For a full hand of time, he watched the villagers. Diamondback and Thorny Boy returned to Seedpod’s shelter and seemed to be heating up supper, making tea.

Seedpod joined those carrying away the dead. Because of his age, he was relegated to childrens’ bodies. Tears streamed down his leathery cheeks. He whispered softly to each dead baby, and often he would bend down and kiss a forehead, or stroke blood-matted hair away from a cheek. Choking sobs filled the night.

Finally, people returned to their shelters and built warming fires, then sat around holding each other, weeping softly and talking, trying to eat a little supper.

Pondwader frowned when Thorny Boy trotted out of Seedpod’s shelter. The child ran across the village and stopped a short distance away from Pondwader, breathing hard. His black hair hung in a mass of tangles around his plump cheeks.

“What is it, Thorny Boy?” Pondwader asked softly.

The boy braced his hands on knees and leaned forward—so Pondwader could hear him, but also so Thorny Boy did not have to get too close. “Please come. Grandfather said to tell you supper is ready, and he wishes to speak with you.”





Nineteen

Seedpod stretched out on his side in front of the fire, idly prodding the flames with a long stick. Orange sparks winked and spun upward in the mild salt-scented breeze. The horror had numbed his senses, left him feeling as hollow as a torn old basket. Diamondback sat across from him. He had already finished one bowl of roasted goose and had begun a second. He glanced up from the rich, dark meat, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

“When he arrives, do you wish me to leave?” Diamondback asked.

Seedpod sighed, “Yes, I think that’s wise. He will not like hearing what I have to say to him, and it’s best that he hears it alone. That way he will not be embarrassed.”