People of the Masks(51)

Wren smoothed the moose hide with her fingers. It felt soft and warm. “I used to dream of my mother, too. For six moons after she died, I had the same dream.”

“What about?”

“I dreamed that the canoe had overturned and she’d been washed downstream. It had taken Mother moons to find her way home, but one day she walked into the village, and she hugged me so hard, Rumbler, I swear I couldn’t breathe.”

When loneliness filled her up inside, Wren still had that dream, and her pain eased.

A soft mournful sound came from Rumbler’s throat.

Wren bit her lip.

After the deaths of her parents and brother, she had begged Blue Raven a hundred times to go and search the banks of the river again. He had, of course, and just knowing that they weren’t there, dying or alone, had made it easier for Wren to sleep.

“Rumbler?” she whispered. “I’m going to go outside to look for your mother.”

His mouth opened, as if he couldn’t believe she’d said it. “You are?”

“Yes.” She reached for her red cape and moccasins. “I can’t be gone too long, but I’ll try to search the area around the village.”

“Tell her I’m here!”

“I will,” she said … though she knew she wouldn’t have to.

All day long, people had been laughing and repeating the stories told by Jumping Badger and his warriors. Briar had died quickly, clubbed to death by Jumping Badger himself, after Rumbler had been torn from her arms.

But none of that mattered.

Wren laced her cape and moccasins, and rose to her feet. “Rumbler, while I’m out, try to sleep. Even though you have seven days to rest and eat, you are going to need your strength to last until your mother comes for you. Lost Hill is a bad place. I’ll wake you when I return.”

Rumbler nodded, and tears flooded his eyes.

Wren tiptoed to the door curtain, and ducked beneath it.

Acorn and Buckeye whirled. Stone knives glinted in their hands. They looked like giants. Acorn was big enough, but Buckeye stood another three hands taller and twice as wide. Wren had to lean her head way back to see their faces.

“It’s just me,” she said.

“Little Wren! What are you doing out here?” Acorn scowled at her. “Get back to your hides.” He gestured to the door with his knife.

“I’m full of night water, Acorn! I have to get rid of it or I’ll never sleep!”

Buckeye made a gruff sound. “Let her go. But be back soon, or I’ll come looking for you myself. Understand?”

Buckeye said the words as though he meant he’d come looking for her to slit her throat.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Wren said, and dashed across the plaza as fast as she could, out through the southern palisade gate.

Buckeye and Acorn chuckled.

Wren stopped and looked around. Huge birches towered over her. The lodges of the Night Walkers gleamed brilliantly tonight. Every tree and pebble cast a shadow. As the wind blew, splashes of silver danced through the forest, making the frost-coated leaves in the trail sparkle like strewn handfuls of quartz crystals.

Though she didn’t expect an answer, Wren whispered, “Briar-of-the-Lake? Are you out here?”

Trees creaked in the wind, and Wren strained to find words in them.

“Briar? I am Little Wren. If you …” The hair at the nape of her neck crawled as if touched by an unseen hand. Wren glanced around, breathing hard. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that …

“Boy?” Her voice had gone tight. “Boy, if you are out here, leave me alone! I’m here for Rumbler!”

She broke into a run, speeding around the trail that circled Walksalong Village. Every few paces, she called, “Briar? Briar, are you here? Please answer!”

The night seemed to hiss and whisper around her, watching her through speckles of starlight. The faint howl of a wolf rode the gusting wind. It echoed across the hills like the distant roar of thunder. She ran harder.

“Briar!”

When she had finished the full circle, she bent over just outside the palisade gate, and braced her hands on her knees, gasping for air. Shadows seemed to coalesce around her, melting together, growing. Her eyes widened. Something moved out there … something enormous … with hairy feet. She couldn’t see it, but her souls started to tremble.

Wren leaped through the gate and rushed toward Acorn and Buckeye, her hair flying out behind her. Both warriors scowled as she skidded to a stop, breathing hard.

Acorn looked her over. “I thought you’d been eaten by a monster.”

Wren squared her shoulders. “You think I’m such a child,” she said, and darted between them into the longhouse.