“That is how he knew me; but it was a long time ago, Shell Comb. And far, far from here.” He gestured off to the west and the last darkening of the sky. “Clear across the mountains, on the great rivers. I suppose you’ve heard of the Serpent Chiefs and the temples they raise to the sun.”
“You are one of them? They are your people?”
“I lived among them for a time.”
“Your accent,” she told him, “would lead me to believe that you were raised here. You don’t speak like a foreigner.”
“I said I lived among them. I’ve been a great number of places.”
“A perpetual mystery, aren’t you?” Who was this man who talked so easily of himself, yet said nothing? “I heard tell that you called your clan … let’s see, yes, the High Steppers?”
“That was a bit of a joke, I’m afraid.” He smiled wistfully. “Oh, I had a clan a long time ago. To them, I have been dead for over five tens of Comings of the Leaves. That’s quite an odd notion to your ears, isn’t it? That a man could live without a clan? After all, that’s how we place ourselves, define ourselves to the rest of the world. Our kinship gives us everything, our rules, our obligations and responsibilities, our mates, our friends, even our afterlife. It defines who we are,”
“Without family, we are nothing.” “Then I am nothing, Shell Comb. My clan is dead to me, and I to them. So here I stand before you, a bit of human flotsam, a blob of living flesh without obligation to any clan, family, or village. I am completely free.”
She took a deep breath, twisting a curl of hair around her finger. “Actually, Elder, I may be the only person in this village who can admire you.” What would it be like, this total freedom? She caught his slight smile as he read her thoughts.
“Frightening,” he answered simply. “To be completely free is terrifying. Especially after having been raised in the careful nurturing arms of a respected and influential clan. I never wanted for anything, Shell Comb. Just like you. Someone was always there to help me, to make a place for me at their fire. If I was sick, they cared for me. The same with you. If you are hurt, they will nurse you. If you are threatened, they will come running with their war clubs raised on high, for you are of the clan. They have given you everything, and you are obligated to give them everything back.”
She felt herself drifting under the soothing spell of his words. The great hollow emptied under her heart, a yawning abyss into which she could fall very easily. Her voice dropped to a wounded whisper. “Oh, yes, Elder. I’ve even given them my heart, ragged and bleeding. But I fought with them, the whole way. I’ve struggled to make my own rules.” She caught herself, angered at her vulnerability. “But why do I tell you this?”
He chuckled, amused by her reaction. “Because no one else will listen to you. No one else understands that longing in your voice.” He pointed off to the west. “You could go, you know. Pack up and leave. The whole world is out there.”
She rubbed her arms, thinking of Copper Thunder, of the upriver villages, and then her thoughts took her back, into the past. “I went north once, a trading expedition to the Susquehannocks.” She glanced at him, measuring his reaction. “I was … No, they were, well, different. As if they weren’t really human at all. The things they did, the way they lived, the same, but so …”
“Frightening,” he answered, eyes veiled. “That’s the reason you will never go, Shell Comb. For all of your chafing at the restrictions of your clan, the most important thing they do for you is make you safe and secure.”
The abyss yawned, and she had to fight to push it back, to block the past before it overwhelmed her control and left her broken and sobbing on the ground. She stiffened, reminding herself that she had been renewed, accepted a fresh start. To look back caused pain. She’d sworn she’d never look back again. “It comes at a price, Elder. A terrible price.”
“Most things in life do.”
She hardened her heart, looking down at her right hand, flexing her fingers. The muscles tightened under her smooth brown skin. Power lurked there, hidden in the memory of flesh and bone. The rules were clear-and some were absolute. Some she would not break, no matter what price her soul paid. “Tell me, Elder. Are people different from the animals? Are we better off with our clans, kinship, and obligations?”
“I don’t know.” He mused for a moment. “The deer, raccoons, bobcats, and chipmunks have no one to rely on but themselves. Humans, with their clans, villages, and tribes, can accommodate an individual’s disaster. That is a strength we have that they don’t.”