The way led down out of the timber, into a broken upland filled with sandstone-capped mesas and juniper-dotted slopes. The drainages here remained damp with runoff from Cold Bringing Woman’s storm. Overhead, the midday sun beat down, the temperature pleasant. As was their way, the desert plants were blooming, the sagebrush and rabbitbrush having received enough moisture to flower. A heavy frost might be disastrous to food crops, but it didn’t kill the drought-resistant brush.
Topping a rise, Wrapped Wrist caught sight of a man. Immediately he raised his arm, stopping. Behind him, he knew that Ironwood and his warriors were melting into the trees.
The lone figure in the trail was bent under a huge load of sticks and branches. The wood was all gray and sun-bleached, tied into a bundle with a thick leather thong about the middle.
Wrapped Wrist looked around, seeing only the solitary traveler. Assured the man was alone he trotted over the rise, calling, “Greetings!”
The figure turned, shadowed by the heavy load. “Greetings yourself.”
“You have no one to help?”
“Unfortunately. Otherwise I could share this burden. You want to carry half?”
Wrapped Wrist thought the voice familiar, but had to trot closer to squint at the shadowed face. He noticed the patterns on the fire-mottled left arm. “Spots?”
“Wrapped Wrist?” Spots swung his load off his shoulder and let it clatter onto the ground. He grinned, winced as he straightened, and walked into Wrapped Wrist’s warm embrace.
“Gods, it’s good to see you.” Wrapped Wrist patted his friend’s back, holding his darts in his left hand. “We thought you were dead.”
“Hunting?” Spots asked, indicating the darts. “Bit far to carry meat, isn’t it? And wait a minute, aren’t those my darts?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m a wood Trader.” Spots’s smile faded. “It’s been an interesting moon, let me tell you. We’ve heard terrible stories about what happened in First Moon Valley. Yesterday morning the first fleeing people passed. They said that Ripple was dead, that all the First People were murdered, that Pinnacle Great House was burned.”
“All true.” Wrapped Wrist shrugged, wishing he could forget the horrible images in the kiva bottom. “I was there.”
“And Bad Cast?”
“He’s coming to meet us at Flowing Waters Town. He’s traveling with Soft Cloth and the baby. We thought it would be safer that way. Yellow Petal is trying to hang on. You should see the feather holder she has. Black Bush is urging her to go south. There are stories of a valley that didn’t freeze. Fir Brush and Slipped Bark might go with her.” He looked around. “Where’s the Mountain Witch?”
“Captive in Flowing Waters Town. I’m trying to figure out how to free her.”
“And Night Sun?” Wrapped Wrist asked.
“The Matron?” Spots shrugged. “The rumor was that she was captured, but I haven’t heard of her in Flowing Waters Town.”
Ironwood’s voice called, “That doesn’t mean that Leather Hand didn’t take her there.” He emerged from the brush at the side of the trail, other warriors rising here and there as if by magic.
Spots smiled weakly. “War Chief. It is good to see you again.”
“A Trader?” Ironwood asked. “Does Webworm know you’re associated with Nightshade?”
Spots narrowed an eye. “Webworm doesn’t know much these days, War Chief.”
“Oh?” Ironwood’s expression intensified.
“He’s dead. No one knows. Desert Willow is keeping it quiet until she can call in enough warriors to ensure Flowing Waters Town’s safety.”
“Dead?” Ironwood asked. “How?”
Spots went grim. “Nightshade cut his heart out of his body. Nothing could ever have prepared me for the way of it. He lay down, Dancing with Sister Datura, and she cut it, still beating, from his chest. I carried it myself to the equinox kiva fire, and watched the serpent crawl out of it as it burned.”
Ironwood’s expression fell. “She cut out Webworm’s … ? A serpent was in his heart?”
Spots said soberly. “It had taken possession of his souls. He’d been witched years ago.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He wanted to find someone named Cloud Playing.”
Ironwood’s eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, and he stepped away, shoulders slumping. “Yes, of course he would.”
Wrapped Wrist wondered at the man’s reaction. He’d swear that watching the First People being burned alive at Pinnacle Great House had taken something out of Ironwood. Or was it just worry about his wife?