People of the Lightning(9)
A sad smile came to Seedpod’s lips.
The Eagles had been faithfully holding back the winds of destruction ever since. But the great Soul Dancers, like crazy old Dogtooth, said the Eagles had grown old and frail.
That’s why Cottonmouth’s Dream had frightened everyone. He claimed that Sun Mother had promised to send him a Lightning Boy who would shoot down the Eagles. Then she had vowed to send the Lightning Birds to save Cottonmouth and anyone who would follow him. They would be carried up to a shining new world beyond the stars.
Thorny Boy started snoring softly.
Seedpod used his fingers to rake off one side of the catfish’s flesh and ate it while he thought. Only fools believed such things. But followers had been flocking to Cottonmouth’s village, hoping to be among the chosen who would survive.
Seedpod shook his head, wondering about Cottonmouth … and Pondwader. How could anyone bear to think about that terrible day? When the last Eagle fell, Sister Moon would bury her face in the clouds and weep falling stars. Sun Mother’s eye would slowly turn blacker and blacker until she could see only darkness, and then Hurricane Breather would suck up Sea Girl and Brother Earth and swallow them whole … . All would be as it had been in the beginning, Hurricane Breather blowing around and around, while the Lightning Birds danced in his eyes.
Seedpod whispered, “Yes, Cottonmouth deserved to die for saying such a thing. He’s fortunate that the Lightning Birds took pity on him and just killed his souls. Though Sun Mother knows, a man without any souls has no eyes in his heart. He is blind to emotions. I can think of nothing more—”
“If I’d been Cottonmouth,” Thorny Boy murmured sleepily, surprising Seedpod. “I would have asked the Lightning Birds to kill me and get it over with.”
“Maybe the Lightning Birds are trying to teach him a lesson before they blast him.”
Thorny Boy yawned again, wide and long. Golden light flickered over his plump cheeks as he turned his face toward the crackling fire. “Grandfather, what will happen to us if my mother doesn’t want to marry Pondwader, and Cottonmouth attacks our village again?”
“Oh, let’s not talk about it. It’s too terrifying.”
“Mother doesn’t want Pondwader, you know she doesn’t.”
“Of course, I know. But it’s necessary. If you were of age, I’d be looking for a powerful mate for you, too. A woman from a clan with many warriors and much wealth. Just like Pondwader’s clan. Your mother will get used to the idea. And Pondwader … well, he’ll be a good husband to her. I’m sure he will.”
Thorny Boy thought about that, his little mouth moving. “And maybe she will even like him.”
Seedpod looked out at Musselwhite. Rain had drenched her hood and tunic, making the fabric cling to her tall body like a second skin. Despite bearing twelve children, she remained as slender as a woman half her four tens and two summers. In the flashes of lightning, Seedpod could see water glistening on Musselwhite’s beautiful face and long legs.
“Well,” Seedpod said. “I hope she likes the boy. But I doubt she’ll ever love him. She has room for only one man in her souls, and that’s your father. May the Lightning Birds protect him. I don’t know what your mother would do if something happened to Diver.”
“Or me,” Thorny Boy said. “I don’t know what I would do if …” He couldn’t finish.
Seedpod patted his grandson’s leg. Thorny Boy knew death. Windy Cove Clan had been attacked three times since last winter’s Celebration Day. The child had seen uncles and brothers killed, female cousins stolen. Thorny Boy’s best friend, Coral, had been stolen by Cottonmouth eight moons ago. Coral and his mother, Glasswort. She had been a good woman, a valued member of their clan. Glasswort had tried to help everyone. They all missed her.
Thorny Boy thoughtfully picked at a loose thread in the skirt of his tunic, and watched the fires in the village going out. Hazes of windblown sand filled the air as people smothered their flames.
“Grandfather, may I sleep with you? Mother might stand in the rain all night.”
“Of course, you may. Why don’t you go crawl under my blanket. I’ll be there soon. I want to drink one more cup of warm tea.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.” He got up, hugged Seedpod’s neck, then trotted across the shelter and slipped beneath the red-striped blanket, leaving just the black top of his head showing.
Seedpod set his bowl in his lap and finished his cold fish. Indeed, Musselwhite might stand in the rain all night. Seedpod didn’t blame her. He felt it, too, that sense of foreboding. Last night, every time Seedpod had closed his eyes, his memory painted dead men, dead animals, dead fish washing up on the shore, as if his soul writhed in some magical trap, and he could not escape.