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People of the Moon(177)

By:W. Michael Gear


“That’s crazy! We have property here, fields.” She pointed to Mid-Sun House, the two-story building where even now Ironwood and Ripple sat with her lineage elders. “This is where my family is. Our house is right over there.”

He nodded. “Soft Cloth, our world is coming to an end. Ripple and the Mountain Witch have seen it.” He gestured at the winding column of worshipers climbing First Moon Mountain. “Equinox isn’t that far away. A matter of days.” He pointed to the distant watchtower that perched on the high rim of First Moon Mountain. “How far north is the sun?”

“Less than a finger. But that’s the point. Harvest will begin soon. You don’t expect me to just walk away from my responsibilities, do you?”

Bad Cast sighed. “I was afraid of this.”

“Afraid of what?” She shook her head. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not the same man who left here.”

He chuckled bitterly, looking down the slope. “Remember when you caught us gambling down there under that tree?”

She nodded.

“Gods, Soft Cloth, what I’d give to be that man again. What I’d give if only I could go back and keep Ripple from going after that elk.”

“You really believe this, don’t you?”

He met her eyes. “I want a chance to love you. I want to watch our children grow up and marry and have children of their own. Do you understand? I want to love you. Not just now, but forever.”

“Bad Cast?”

“I have things to do, responsibilities I must see to. But if I ask you to leave with me, I need you to say yes.”

He could see the deep confusion in her eyes. Perhaps it mirrored his own. Pus and blood, what was he going to do if she said no?





Spots saw the northern sky as he walked up from the river. A deer bladder full of drinking water hung in one hand; a thin net bag from his other. Seven baked corn cakes were within.

“Some fire,” Cactus Flower greeted him as he approached the southeastern gate. She stood up from her blanket and stretched.

“It is. Must be spectacular from home.”

She considered him. “You miss it?”

“Well, sure. My sister must be half-crazy without me to do my chores in the fields. This is the critical time. The corn is headed out, starting to mature. This is when the raccoons, worms, deer, and human thieves get ready to raid our fields. As dry as it’s been, she’s been working sunup to sundown carrying water.”

“But you’d rather run back and forth like a Trader, packing firewood so you can Trade for her?” She inclined her head toward the gate.

Spots chewed his lip, aware of Cactus Flower’s wary arch of brow. “It’s just something I have to do.”

“Oh, yes, sneak food to a condemned witch. You know, if they catch you …”

“That’s why it’s got to be done right at dusk.”

She frowned at him. “Well, if you’re convinced you need to have some warrior stand on your neck and smack your brains out, go ahead. If you escape getting caught again tonight, I don’t have anyone staying over.”

He cocked his head. “As you well know, I’m out of firewood.”

“You’ve got a string of shell beads. White Lizard gave them to you.”

“I’d better get this inside.” He lifted the bag, glancing up at the roof where the bored guard watched the southeastern gate.

“Oh, just come by,” she said huffily.

“Trade or no?”

She shrugged coyly. “Sleeping with you is fun. I’m starting to like it.”

He thought about that as he walked through the gate, nodded at the guard, and called, “I’m just going back for my blanket.”

He received a wave in return.

Evening light had softened the interior of Dusk House. It had masked the hard lines of the great kiva, gloom filling the doorways. Here and there people went about their evening activities. Most would be leaving soon, headed back to their farmsteads. For all of its massive size, few people actually lived here—only the Blessed Sun, the Made People clan elders, Priests, warriors, and the slaves who served them.

He found his blanket where he’d left it, to one side of a doorway leading into one of the southern rooms. He glanced surreptitiously around as he folded his blanket. No one seemed to be watching.

He stretched, flopped his blanket over his shoulder, and walked toward the great kiva. He could hear singing from within. The entrance had a soft yellow glow, and several people crowded at the doorway, watching the events inside.

He felt his heart lurch as he angled past the bear cage. Every time he did this, it scared the liver out of him. He always expected shouts of alarm and red-shirted warriors charging to capture him. The interior was dark in shadow, Nightshade a mere representation of her name.