Rumbler smoothed his left thumb over the bandage on his right hand. “That’s when he went away?”
“Yes, but he didn’t want to go, Rumbler. He wanted to divorce your grandmother and marry your mother.”
Sparrow said, “Blessed Spirits, if the Paint Rock elders had discovered the truth, that Briar was already pregnant with Rumbler, they would have cast out Briar and Bull Killer. Rumbler would have never had a home. No clan, no village.”
Dust turned her cup in her hands. “It was for your sake, Rumbler, that your parents decided Bull Killer should go away.”
Wisps of black smoke rose from the grouse. Dust leaped forward, pulling them away from the flames. Spots of the skin had charred, but the meat smelled wonderful. She turned the sticks upside down and dumped the pieces into their bowls.
She handed Sparrow his portion, and he took it without a word.
As she handed Rumbler his bowl, she said, “I know this isn’t easy to understand, Rumbler. All I can tell you is that every winter, Bull Killer sent a runner to ask Briar how the two of you were doing. I think that’s why she never married. She was hoping that someday he would return.”
Rumbler blew on his grouse, and steam spun up around his contemplative face.
Dust wondered if he could grasp what she’d been saying. Adultery. Scandal. His mother, barely more than a child, loving her own mother’s husband. In the depths of Dust’s heart, she actually hoped that Rumbler didn’t understand.
“Briar always planned on telling you, Rumbler, when you got old enough,” she said.
He took a bite of his grouse. As he ate, grease coated his face and hands. He said nothing.
Dust bit into her own grouse. Neither she nor Sparrow had eaten since yesterday morning. At the first taste of the delicious bird, her stomach growled. She ate slowly, relishing each bite.
Sunrise blazed across the sky, and the Cloud Giants gleamed in unearthly shades of pink and yellow.
Rumbler finished his grouse, and pulled his arms beneath his cape. He watched the fire in silence while Sparrow and Dust finished.
Dust tossed her bones into the flames and cleaned her hands in the damp sand. “Rumbler? Are you all right?”
He sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it for a while. “Grandmother?” he said. “Do you think he cares about me?”
A pain lanced Dust’s chest. “Oh, yes, I do.”
Rumbler peered at her from the corner of his eye. “Then, will you go with me to find him?”
Sparrow dumped the bones from his bowl into the fire, and said, “I will, Rumbler.”
Dust jerked around.
Sparrow met her probing gaze calmly. He dipped his bowl in the sand, and began wiping it out, cleaning it. “We can’t stay here, Dust. You know it. I know it.”
“But …” Her voice came out low, pleading. “What about Planter and our grandchildren?”
“They’ll be here when we get back. This may be Rumbler’s only chance.”
For happiness.
Dust collected the dishes, and tucked them into her pack, thinking about those long-ago events that had changed the entire world. If Bull Killer had not married Evening Star, none of them would be here now. Paint Rock Village would be thriving. Briar would have married someone else. Rumbler might not be alive … .
Unexpected tears burned her eyes. She grabbed for Rumbler, and clutched him to her chest. “I’m so glad you’re here, Rumbler. We’ll find your father. I’ll send word to Planter that we’ll be gone for a few moons, and we’ll go.”
Rumbler disentangled himself from Dust’s grip, his eyes shining. “As soon as Wren comes.”
Sparrow rose to his feet, and slipped his pack over his shoulders. “We should be on our way.”
Rumbler craned his neck to look up at Sparrow, and smiling, said, “Are we going back now?”
“Back? Back where?”
“To the pine trees.”
Sparrow frowned. “What pine trees?”
Rumbler blinked. “By the shore.”
“You mean … where we found you last night? Why would we want to go back there?”
Rumbler put a bandaged hand on Dust’s neck. “Wren said morning. It’s morning.”
Sparrow glanced at Dust.
Dust swallowed hard. Gently, she said, “Rumbler … Wren won’t be there.”
Rumbler stared at her. “She—she said she would try to come.”
“I know, but”—Dust put her hand over Rumbler’s—“do you remember when Wren ran out of the shelter?”
“Yes. She told me to wait down by the shore.”
Dust squeezed his hand. “I know, Rumbler, but the war party captured Wren. They captured Wren, and her uncle, Blue Raven. Sparrow and I barely escaped. We—”