Tall Blue sat down beside Sparrow, and his young face turned grim. “It’s the Walksalong Clan, Elder.”
“Of course it is. What’s Jumping Badger done now?”
For five winters, Jumping Badger, the war leader of Walksalong Village, had been terrorizing people for a moon’s walk.
“He attacked Sleeping Mist Village. At most that’s—”
“Three days’ run from here.” Sparrow knotted his fists and shook them at nothing. “And Dust Moon is afraid we will be next. Yes?”
“Yes, Elder.”
“I don’t know what she expects me to do about it, Blue. Curse them and pray they turn on each other instead of us?”
Earth Thunderer Clan was part of the Turtle Nation. Peaceful hunters and gatherers, the Turtle clans moved their small villages often, following the game, or visiting different root grounds or nut groves. Their distant relatives, the Bear Nation, saw this as a weakness. They’d started openly attacking Turtle villages, pushing the people farther and farther away from the animals and plants they needed to survive, taking the land for themselves.
The Turtle clans had to fight back. Soon. And Sparrow had to give them his best advice. He couldn’t do that until he’d spoken to his Spirit Helper. This was not a matter for human beings. They had done all they could. Only the Spirits could resolve this problem.
Tall Blue’s moccasins crunched the frozen snow at the base of the log. “Elder?” he said. “You have been in the forest for three nights. Has your Spirit Helper appeared?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
The truth had been eating at him. Ordinarily his Helper came to him on the second day of questing. This was the beginning of the fourth day, and he hadn’t even—
“Matron Dust Moon said he probably hadn’t,” Tall Blue glibly informed him. “That’s why she felt it would be all right to disturb your quest.”
Idly, Sparrow wondered what would happen if he marched into Earth Thunderer Village and bashed Dust in the head with a war club.
“So.” Tall Blue slapped his palms on his knees. “I have come to ask you to return to the village. Matron Dust Moon said that right after you’ve given words in council you can return to your quest.”
Sparrow just stared.
Dust had never undertaken a vision quest. She did not know the bitter cold that settled in the soul, or the effect that going without food or water for days had on the body. She could not even imagine the wrenching despair that consumed a Dreamer who feared he might fail.
Sparrow wet his chapped lips. They tasted of dried blood and salty tears. “Do you have any notion what Matron Dust Moon would say if you’d just brought her this message after she’d been praying and fasting for days?”
Tall Blue tilted his head. “I—”
“She’d tell you to go throw yourself off a cliff, which is what I ought to do.”
“Elder,” Tall Blue said in exasperation. “The matron is not as horrible as you suppose.”
“Don’t tell me that.” He narrowed his eyes. “I lived with her for thirty-five winters, Blue. I know the twisted paths her thoughts take.”
Wind Mother whistled above Sparrow, and a shower of snowflakes fell from the trees, glittering, onto his white hair and cape. He feebly brushed at them. “You may tell my former wife that I will be home as soon as I’ve finished my quest. Not before.”
Tall Blue nodded dejectedly. “I will, of course, do as you say, Elder. I just hope she doesn’t come looking for you herself.”
Blue shrugged out of his pack and pulled it onto the log between them. As he loosened the laces and began to dig around inside, the sweet scent of roasted corn rose. “Forgive me, Elder. I’ll leave as soon as I’ve eaten. I’ve been searching for you since early yesterday.”
Sparrow’s belly groaned at the sweet aroma of corn cakes filled with roasted hickory nuts. It occurred to him that the scent was achingly familiar. He lifted a brow. “Dust Moon made those for you, didn’t she?”
“Why, yes, Elder,” Tall Blue said around a bite. “How did you know?”
“Because they’re my favorites, that’s why.” Through gritted teeth, Sparrow said, “I swear she’s the spawn of witches.”
Tall Blue finished his first cake, and started on a second. Crumbs fell down the front of his cape.
Sparrow should have known Dust would do something like this.
Only five nights before she had arrived at his house, and announced that she’d just spoken to a runner who’d told her he’d seen Bear Nation warriors massing—as if preparing for a major attack. Dust had informed Sparrow that, in this time of uncertainty, he ought to strive to be useful: “Go seek a vision. Your people need good advice. Not the sort of pathetic drivel you usually give.”