People of the Mist(85)

Copper Thunder’s lips twitched. “Weroansqua, one last word of advice, if I may. Though I tread on delicate ground, I would not necessarily trust your War Chief to ‘remove’ him. Raven has a habit of blinding those closest to him. Perhaps he truly is a witch in this regard. However, should you need help with this problem, you need but ask.” And you will be more than happy to kill him yourself. “In the unlikely event that I need your help, I will not hesitate.”

Copper Thunder drank deeply of his tea and shot a quick look at Shell Comb. Hunting Hawk noted that her daughter had turned slightly so that the light accented her lustrous black hair, and if anything, her eyes had enlarged, as if to drink his very soul.

Yes, look, he is interested. The revelation surprised her as much as any of the day’s events. She could feel that subtle sexual tension between them like the crackling of rubbed fox fur.

“So,” Copper Thunder said to Shell Comb, “High Fox eludes us again?”

“Even the worthy have to wait for fate to drop the ripened plum into their hands,” Shell Comb reminded him. “You, of all people, should know that war doesn’t always grant victory on the first skirmish. The best rewards are those hardest won. And there is always a price to be paid.”

He studied Shell Comb over the rim of his cup. “If you wanted something badly enough, what price would you pay?”

Shell Comb spoke with unusual bitterness. “Perhaps I have already paid, Great Tayac. I have given up everything for my clan, my people. But the price is for me alone to know.” She gave him an enigmatic smile, one that teased and challenged.

Hunting Hawk saw the glint in his eyes as he laughed aloud, sharing some secret communication with Shell Comb. “No doubt you have. You’re a deep one indeed.” He glanced at Hunting Hawk then, his expression calculating. “I don’t know which of you is more dangerous, Weroansqua, you, or your daughter.”

“We manage, Great Tayac,” Hunting Hawk replied, half-expecting Shell Comb to say something ridiculous. But Shell Comb’s only response was to mock Copper Thunder with a lifted eyebrow. “I thank you for the tea,” he said, rising. “It is late.” His face turned stony. “Do heed my warnings about this Panther. He’s trouble. Don’t trust him. And, well, I wouldn’t let him around the food. You never know what he might put in it.”

“Thank you.” Hunting Hawk inclined her head. “We appreciate your warning and will be on guard. Have-no fear.”

She watched him go, collecting his warriors at the doorway and disappearing into the night.

“So, he thinks I’m dangerous,” Shell Comb said softly.

“A most interesting night,” Hunting Hawk agreed. “Very well, I shall give this Panther, or Raven, or whatever he is called, a chance. Play him off Copper Thunder, if nothing else.”

“And my other suggestion?”

“Yes, he is interested in you, rather fascinated, in fact. But beware of him, daughter. He’s not like the others you’ve toyed with through the years.”

Shell Comb’s eyes gleamed as she stared at the fire. “No … he’s not, Mother.”

At her daughter’s expression, a cold shiver traced down Hunting Hawk’s spine. But she hadn’t time for Shell Comb, not now. Plans spun through her like the filaments of a web. She had things to do.





Sixteen




It was him! It was really him, after all of these years! Who would have thought? Panther had wondered about the upstart from the Pipestone Clan, but he had refused to believe his own gut instincts.

“He called you Raven,” Nine Killer said as Rosebud cleared away the dishes and the empty pots and laid them out for the dogs to lick clean. Two of her daughters supplied wood for the fire. The flames licked up around the branches, popping and snapping as they cast their light on the inside of Rosebud’s long house The wood support posts took on an amber hue, and the shadows leaped through the corn, tobacco, and sacked goods hanging from the rafters.

Sun Conch sat to Panther’s right, turning her war club over and over in her hands. Her eyes looked far away. Perhaps she had discovered that being a warrior wasn’t all that easy.

Panther worked to control the excitement and fear that surged within him. Taking a deep breath, he slumped into a more comfortable position and filled his pipe bowl with tobacco. He studied the chopped brown weed and shrugged. “A man must be called something. At the time, that was what I was called..”

“I can’t believe you baited the Great Tayac the way you did. I thought for a moment he was going to kill you,” Nine Killer shook his head.