People of the Mist(11)

“Whole villages would be burned, their people murdered. No one would be safe.” “Let us hope that your first thought was the right one.”

Hunting Hawk clasped her hands together, as if locking them around that hope. “I’m sure the explanation will be simple.”

No, despite her worries, he didn’t suspect a thing.

Quick Fawn reached down for a piece of firewood, the first she’d seen since leaving the village. At twelve, she was willowy, and pretty. Her mother, Yellow Net, had combed out her long black hair until it gleamed. Her heart-shaped face and sparkling eyes were the envy of her friends. Her slim body had just begun to round, promising a woman’s beauty to come.

At least a hand of time had passed since her mother had sent her out for wood. The chore of keeping the fires going was an endless one. Years of collecting around the village had forced her to travel farther up the neck of land. But, to be truthful, she had been dallying, wanting time away. Her confrontation with Red Knot after the dance the night before still bothered her. So much was happening, she needed time to think about it.

A squirrel dashed from branch to branch above her, and perched, staring down with beady black eyes.

“Better be glad you’re up there, free, my friend,” she told the bushy-tailed rodent. “You don’t want to be a human girl.”

As if in agreement, the squirrel flicked its tail and bounded into the higher branches.

Quick Fawn climbed farther up the slope to where the old oak had fallen. The hole was huge, and until last year it had been the biggest tree in the forest above Flat Pearl Village. Then, in a storm last summer, lightning had riven it. To everyone’s amazement, the heart of the great trunk had been hollow and rotten. The tree had cracked down the middle, and half had fallen, splintering the branches of its neighbors as it crashed down onto the forest floor. The other half still stood, weathered and dead, waiting for the inevitable storm that would topple it as well.

The tree’s corpse provided a wealth of wood for the young collectors from Flat Pearl Village.

Quick Fawn looked at the litter covering the ground, and then up at the bare sky. When the mighty oak fell, it had opened a huge patch of forest to the light.

She laid her wood to one side and climbed agilely up the fallen section of trunk. Placing her back in the crook of one of the broken branches, she leaned her head back and stared up at the clouds.

“I don’t think I want to be a woman,” she told the silent sky.

Red Knot was her best friend. Together they had played, worked, and dreamed. They had laughed, flashed smiles at the boys, teased them unmercifully.

Quick Fawn thought back to that summer night, not five moons past. Canny leader that old Hunting Hawk was, she’d sent runners to the surrounding villages, announcing a celebration to mark the final weeding of the fields. Of course, the visitors had arrived early to find the people of Flat Pearl still out weeding the corn, beans, and squash. Naturally, they had pitched in, and what would have taken Flat Pearl five days took less than one.

Hunting Hawk disposed of large quantities of last winter’s stores that were on the verge of molding, emptying storage baskets and pots. What better way than to fill the bellies of her friends and allies from the surrounding area?

From the corner of her eye, Quick Fawn had watched Red Knot and High Fox, side by side, weeding the rows. Corn, beans, and squash alternated in the field. Here and there, an old stump, the wood charred, thrust up like crows’ beaks. Bent over, High Fox and Red Knot had talked, laughed, and shared special smiles.

At first, Quick Fawn had been included in their games, but later, after the feast, while Flat Willow had been strutting and leaping in his hunting dance, they had slipped away from the circle of dancers around the ceremonial fire in front of the House of the Dead.

So I followed. Quick Fawn rubbed her face and sighed as she stared up at the scudding clouds. In the dark trees beyond the canoe landing, she’d lost them. Only later did she finally discover them, bathed in moonlight on the sandy bank of the inlet.

High Fox had passed his Blackening and rebirth into manhood but two moons past. And Red Knot, at fourteen, hadn’t had her first menses; nevertheless, their bodies were locked together. Quick Fawn watched the moonlight shining silver on their greased skin. It cast twin crescents on High Fox’s buttocks and back, and shone silver on the backs of his legs as his hips moved rhythmically against hers.

Their audacity had stunned Quick Fawn. What if someone found out? A man didn’t couple with a girl. Red Knot would be beaten, and every sort of abuse heaped upon her in punishment. And High Fox at the very least would be dishonored, at the worst killed outright by Nine Killer and the Flat Pearl warriors.