People of the Moon(194)
“We have all been so jealous of you.”
“What?”
“Spots and I—and even Wrapped Wrist—thought you were the luckiest man we knew when you married her.”
“Why?”
“We imagined you going home to her every night. You have what we all wanted: a capable and caring wife. The two of you just fit together. That’s how I want to remember you. Not pulling pranks, not sharing the hunt, but with her. I want to imagine you in the future, not the past.”
“What’s to imagine? You’ll share our fire for years to come. Maybe you and Orenda.”
His smile was wistful. “Orenda will travel over to the Green Mesa after this. There, she’ll live for a while with Born-of-Water, Then she’ll marry one of Cornsilk’s sons.”
“That’s no way to—”
“I know these things, Bad Cast. And it’s all right I made my decision. I’m at ease with it. I have one last responsibility to my people; and, after that, well, the ghosts will rest easier.”
“Ripple, why don’t you just take Orenda and go?You’ve already made a difference.”
“Funny, isn’t it? I spent my life hating the First People. Now, with their end looming, I’m just tired.” He placed his good hand on Bad Cast’s shoulder. “Deeply and soul-weary tired. Do not mourn me, dear friend. As much as I hated the past, I couldn’t bear the future. Take care of Wrapped Wrist and Spots. They will need your sober counsel even more in the days to come. And whatever you do, make sure Soft Cloth and the baby travel with you when you leave for the Great River Valley.”
“You’re talking as if you won’t be there.”
He shrugged. “I told you: I’m tired, Bad Cast. Our world is about to be cleansed. I would rather rest than endure the storm—but if I am to serve my purpose, I have one last duty to perform. I promise, tonight, finally, you will understand.”
“You are talking nonsense.” When Bad Cast stared out at the roiling smoke where his pristine valley should have been, it looked anything but cleansing.
“It only seems that way now.” Ripple tightened his hand on Bad Cast’s shoulder. “I just wanted a moment with you. Thank you for always being there for me. I know what risks you took on my behalf. I will be forever grateful.”
“We have always been there for each other.”
“Go now,” Ripple added gently. “The war chief is meeting with some of the lineage leaders in the Soft Earth Moiety kiva. He’s going to need you before this is all over.”
Bad Cast gave Ripple a furtive inspection. His friend was staring thoughtfully into the north, eyes squinted against the smoke and blowing ash.
Coupling, Crow Woman decided, had definite therapeutic value. Her limp was decidedly better, the pain nowhere near as intense. She followed close on Wrapped Wrist’s heels, placing her feet in his footsteps.
In the smoke-thick morning, they climbed a well-traveled trail, each step something of a trial for her, but nothing like yesterday’s trip. The smoke, however, burned the eyes, nose, and throat. She coughed periodically. Between wind gusts bits of ash filtered out of the murky air.
Wrapped Wrist nodded to the people they encountered coming down the hill, many burdened with hoes, baskets, or water jars. Everyone looked worried and nervous, usually pausing long enough to ask if he had news on the fire.
Gusts of wind still batted at them, and the whirling flakes of gray-white ash reminded her of perverted snow. It coated everything: hair, cloak, her pack. The merest touch left gray-black streaks on her skin.
Orenda coughed as she followed them up the steep trail. The woman seemed more subdued than ever, expression pinched, worry behind her soft eyes.
“It’s up to me to tell him,” Orenda had said over their breakfast in Yellow Petal’s house. She had been so preoccupied with what she would say to Ironwood that she hadn’t noticed the secret glances and smiles Crow Woman and Wrapped Wrist had shot each other.
Flashes from Crow Woman’s experiences during the night before kept popping up in her memory. The first surprise had come from his tender hands, the way he’d brushed his lips lightly across her skin. The sensation of his tongue on her nipples had charged her with excitement. His sensitive fingertips had sent pleasure through her sheath.
At his urging, she had touched him back, fascinated by the feel of his hard shaft in her hands. By the time he had gently shifted his weight onto hers, the fear of his imposing organ had vanished. She couldn’t believe that she was literally aching for him. She’d sighed with relief as he slid into her, and miracle of miracles, it hadn’t hurt.