Acorn crouched beside her, his burly shoulders massive beneath his bear-hide cape. He’d just come from a bath in the lake, and the bristly ridge of hair that ran down the middle of his skull gleamed wetly. He whispered, “What’s he doing?”
“I can’t say, but he’s been at it since dawn.”
About ten body lengths away, Jumping Badger sat in the highest branches of an oak tree. Strips of wood had been fluttering down for two days, creating a pale golden pile around the oak’s trunk.
Acorn nervously scanned the forest. “Where’s the head?”
“In his lap.”
“Has he been talking to it?”
“That’s who he was shouting at a short time ago. Didn’t you hear him?” When Acorn shook his head, Elk Ivory added, “I’m surprised. I assumed our relatives back in Walksalong Village could hear him.”
Wind Mother whipped through the forest and blew Elk Ivory’s shoulder-length black hair around her brown eyes. She squinted, and tightened her hold on the collar of her buffalo coat, keeping the wind out. The green paintings of Falcon and Goshawk that adorned the lower half of her coat waffled, almost seeming to fly.
She surveyed Acorn’s troubled face, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
He propped his forearms on his knees. “Something happened. I was down bathing, and many warriors approached me demanding to know what we are doing here. They think one of us should tell the war leader that we ought to be going. We sat here all day yesterday while Jumping Badger perched in that tree. If we do not catch Blue Raven soon, we may never find him.”
Elk Ivory scratched her broad flat nose. As Grandfather Day Maker climbed higher into the bright blue sky, light lanced through the branches, striking Acorn in the face and causing him to squint.
“Then I think the ‘one of us’ should be you, Acorn. I tried speaking with Jumping Badger night before last. He doesn’t like me.”
“But you are much braver than I am. Everybody says so.”
“Do they?”
“Oh, yes. The whole clan knows it.” Acorn nodded humbly, plucked a blade of dry grass from the ground and put it in his mouth. He chewed the blade while he diligently avoided her eyes.
Elk Ivory said, “Then, how fortunate you are to have this opportunity to build your reputation. People will be singing of your valor for many winters.”
The blade of grass stopped wiggling. He removed it and glanced at her. “Well, truthfully, I am not that upset about being a coward. It has its advantages. Life, for one.”
“Jumping Badger won’t kill you.”
“He’s as crazy as a wingless bat!” He shook his grass stem at her. “How can you be so sure?”
She looked up at the oak tree. Jumping Badger lifted the wood he’d been carving, and put it up to his eyes, gazing at her through the eyeholes.
“Blessed Spirits,” she breathed. “It’s a mask. He’s been making a mask.”
Acorn’s head swiveled around so fast he almost lost his balance. “He can’t do that! He’s never been cleansed!”
Elk Ivory stood. “Nevertheless, he’s done it.”
Acorn rose beside her, his mouth open.
Few warriors ever made a mask. The cleansing process, called the Water Purification ritual, required that a warrior renounce killing, and cast all of his or her weapons into a river. After that, the warrior had to sit in the river for three days and three nights. Running water removed the taint of death gained in warfare. If an uncleansed warrior carved a mask, the taint would seep into the heart of the mask and bring disease and death to his people.
Hostile voices filled the camp as, one by one, people saw what Jumping Badger had done, and began to coalesce around the central fire.
Elk Ivory rose and strode for Jumping Badger. Acorn headed for the fire, crying, “Be calm! Wait!”
As she neared the maple, Jumping Badger climbed down the tree to meet her, the mask tucked beneath his arm. He sneered at his warriors, then laughed in Elk Ivory’s face, saying, “I have given Lamedeer new eyes! He was complaining because the yellow crust of decay had blinded him. He sees much better now, old woman.”
Jumping Badger propped the staff on the ground, then tied the mask over the rotting face. It was a crude thing, carved to resemble a crow’s head with a long beak. Lamedeer’s sunken eyes showed through the holes. “Lamedeer has seen Blue Raven’s trail. Come. We must go.” He turned to walk away, and Elk Ivory grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“You have risked the lives of your people by making this mask. How could you—”
“Leave me be, old woman!” He roughly shook off her hand. His handsome young face twisted. “I am working to save our people! That is our goal, and that is what I have—”