People of the Masks(156)

Rumbler sat on the floor between Dust and Sparrow and reached for a piece of bread. Crumbs dropped down the front of his pale blue shirt. The boy ate as if he hadn’t been fed in days, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could.

“Slow down, Rumbler,” Sparrow said. “You can have another one.”

“Yes, but I have to hurry, Grandfather. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner Wren will be here.”

Sparrow ate a piece, and watched Dust bite into hers. The wild rice added a rich nutty flavor. Rumbler gobbled half a piece more, then took a blanket from Sparrow’s lap and dragged it to the back of the lodge. He finished the bread under his blanket, staring thoughtfully at the shiny layer of black creosote on the ceiling.

Sparrow ate another piece of bread, then rose and walked back toward Rumbler. He spread the two remaining blankets over the buffalo hides, and crawled underneath. His face rested about four hands from Rumbler’s.

Dust remained sitting by the fire, eating slowly while she watched the flames.

Sparrow could sense her apprehension, but they had crossed over the river now. They had to fight, or die.

He closed his eyes, and did his best to rest.





Rumbler brushed the crumbs from his hands onto his blanket, and slid closer to Grandfather Silver Sparrow. Long white hair spread around his grandfather’s face. It looked like a Cloud Giant’s hair. Rumbler wondered if it could breathe. The higher you went on a mountain, the harder it was to breathe. Rumbler had always worried that maybe the Giants couldn’t get enough air. He reached out and touched the glittering white.

Grandfather opened one eye. “Are you all right?”

“Grandfather, can your Spirit Helper come to help us?”

Grandfather Silver Sparrow tilted his head back to look at Rumbler. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. “Well, I don’t know. I’ll ask, Rumbler, but usually he doesn’t come to me unless I’m on a vision quest.”

“Usually?” Rumbler poked his good finger into the thick white nest. A lot of air lived between the strands. Probably they could breathe.

“I’ve seen my Helper a few other times. But, frankly, I’d rather not have. I awakened once to find him chasing me like a rabid wolf, and I was running for my life.”

“For your life, Grandfather?”

“That’s how it felt.”

“Um …” Rumbler sighed. “Maybe.”

Grandfather Silver Sparrow frowned. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”

Rumbler rolled onto his back and slid up until his ear touched his grandfather’s. Smoke wings fluttered around the hole in the roof, batting at each other, trying to get out to fly in the open sky.

“I mean, were you running because he was chasing you, or was he chasing you because you were running?”

Grandfather Silver Sparrow’s bushy gray brows pulled together over his beaked nose. “I never thought of it that way. Maybe I shouldn’t have run, eh?”

“Spirit Helpers are faster than humans anyway.”

“That’s true. He always catches me.” Grandfather put his hand behind his head. “Three or four moons ago, he knocked me flat, and sank his teeth into my spine. I—”

“Stopped running?”

The corners of Grandfather Silver Sparrow’s eyes crinkled. He glanced around the lodge. “Yes.”

“He must have really wanted you to stop, Grandfather.”

Silver Sparrow rolled to his stomach and braced himself up on his elbows, peering down at Rumbler. The Cloud Giant hair fell across the buffalo hide like foam spilling over a waterfall. “Well, he got what he wanted, but he had to take extreme measures, didn’t he?”

“I don’t think you’d better run again. Next time he might leap for your throat, or chew out your eyes.”

Grandfather scratched his ear. “That would be unpleasant. Where did you learn so much about Spirit Helpers?”

Rumbler yawned, a wide long yawn, and pulled his blanket up to his cheek. The cloth had been woven with strips of rabbit hide, and it felt soft and warm against his face. “My mother used to run. The last time she did it, her Spirit Helper leaped on her back, and tore out her windpipe. She told me wisdom was born standing still.”

Grandfather Silver Sparrow stretched out on his stomach and rested his chin on his arm. He had an odd expression on his face.

Rumbler closed his eyes.

Grandfather Silver Sparrow whispered, “I wish you’d told me that two winters ago.”

Rumbler reached out, and patted his grandfather’s hand.





Wan sunlight penetrated the clouds and fell upon the glittering surface of Leafing Lake in veils of fallow gold. The wave crests glowed yellow.