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People of the Masks(138)

By:W. Michael Gear


Spotted Frog gazed up into the falling snow. It stuck to his hair and fat cheeks. “And our trail, too, my friend. Just in case we’re being followed.”

“Us? Followed?” Cornhusk sat up straighter. “Who would follow us?”

Spotted Frog bit into another ash cake. “Many villages from the Bear Nation. If word has reached them that we set out with a war party looking for Jumping Badger, there is no telling what they might do. They are a violent people.”

“Hallowed … ancestors.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that! Great Badger Above, if anyone in the Bear Nation discovered that he had led the Turtle Nation war party that fought Jumping Badger, and rescued the “traitors” …

Spotted Frog handed the bowl of ash cakes back to Cornhusk. “Would you like another?”

Cornhusk took three. “Thank you, Patron,” he said and stared morosely at the cakes. He had better start enjoying every meal he got. No telling which one might be his last.





Twenty-Nine



Sparrow woke in the middle of the night with the elk hide pulled over his head. He lay with his legs curled against Dust’s, and his arms around her. Her head rested beneath his chin. The fact that he’d given up hope of ever holding her this way again made it even more glorious. He lightly kissed Dust’s hair.

“Are you awake?” she whispered sleepily.

“Yes.”

“Should we rise?”

She slid back against him, snuggling into the curve of his body.

Sparrow tightened his hold around her. “Probably. The snow is still falling. If we leave now, it will fill in our tracks.”

But neither of them moved. Dust pulled his arm closer, and Sparrow nuzzled his chin against her hair. The feel of her lithe body tucked against him, the warmth of her breath on his hand, filled him with a sudden anguish.

“Dust?”

“Umm?”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned, and in the light that streamed beneath the elk hide, he could see her eyes shining, her face framed in a glistening bed of silver hair. “What for?”

“I’m the one who wounded our love.”

For a time, she didn’t move, then she said, “Sparrow, there is no unwounded love—”

“No, Dust. Just listen. It was my fault, and I’ve never admitted it. I am sorry. You needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, I did need you. Very much.” A pained expression creased her wrinkled face. “Sparrow, do you realize that everything would have been different if you’d just wakened me that night and told me what had happened?”

“Would it, Dust?” he softly asked. “Are you sure?”

Her brows lowered. “I hated you for leaving me alone, Sparrow. But, to tell you the truth, I don’t know which was worse, the hurt you gave me, or the one I gave me. It’s not easy hating someone you love with both your souls.”

Sparrow lowered his eyes. “Do you still hate me?”

She pulled a lock of his hair across her throat, and stroked it. “No, I haven’t hated you for a long time, Sparrow.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “There are so many things I want to say to you. But they all come down to just one thing: I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning, Dust.”

“Sparrow, I … it will be … difficult. There was a time when I thought my heart would die without you. But it didn’t. It kept beating. The rains kept coming. The wind still blew.” She pushed back, and studied his face. “I love you. But can I depend on you?”

The tone in her voice struck him like a physical blow. He had abandoned her once; she wanted to know if he’d do it again. Sparrow thought about his Spirit Helper, about the needs of the world that often outweighed his own needs … and her needs. Could she depend on him? What if he had another vision like the one about Paint Rock Village, and had to leave immediately to go and warn the people—and she needed him at the same time? Could he stay with her?

His forehead lined. “I can promise you that I’ll try, Dust. That’s all.”

She turned away, and exhaled hard. “Will you promise me that you’ll tell me what’s happening to you? Or at least send me word that you’ll be away for a time, so I don’t worry my souls loose from my body?”

“If I can, Dust, yes.”

Her eyes examined the underside of the elk hide for a long time, before she turned back to him. “Then I promise you that if we survive this journey I’ll try to trust you again. And if we don’t survive at least we’ll have had this trip. Do you agree?”

“Yes.” He smiled.

“Good, now let’s forget about us, and start thinking about Rumbler.”