“You mean …” the boy asked in confusion, “you mean because Raven Hunter tried to kill Wolf Dreamer before he could lead our people up into the light of this world?”
“No, I was thinking something else, but you’re right about that.”
They rounded a corner, and a deep voice drifted on Wind Woman’s breath, rising from the ceremonial cave like the voice of Wolf Dreamer himself.
People milled around outside the small entrance to the chamber, laughing and talking. Lookingbill’s heart warmed. During great festivals, Lame Bull villagers came from all over to participate. Every cycle some long-lost relative appeared out of nowhere.
“Father?” Lookingbill’s eldest daughter, Mossy, waved as she saw them approaching. She had inherited his height, a stately woman with long black hair and brown eyes. The heavily beaded dress she wore flapped around her legs. He noted her expression: Something was wrong. A tightness around her eyes betrayed it. Her husband, Night Fighter, stood at her side, a hard worry marring his wide face.
“My pride overflows,” Lookingbill praised, striding forward to take Mossy’s hand. Then he gave her an evaluative look. What’s the trouble?
She had risen through the ranks to the esteemed position of Storyteller by memorizing the precious ancient stories.
She lovingly kissed his mostly bald head, then extended a hand to an old woman standing slightly behind her. “Father, do you remember Cousin Loon Spot?”
Lookingbill squinted at her. Hunched with age, the woman had her gray hair pulled into a tight bun over her left ear. Her nose stuck out like a sharp dart point. “Scrub’s daughter from Purple Meadow Village? I thought you were dead?”
“I tried it. Didn’t like it,” the old woman muttered.
When Loon Spot scowled, Mossy said, “Father, forgive me for interrupting, but I need to speak you before the ceremonial. Oh, and you must Sing tonight.”
“I’m too old to Sing.”
“He’s too old to do anything,” Loon Spot added, and grinned toothlessly when Lookingbill’s eyes narrowed.
Mossy said, “Pineleaf is ill. Someone must take his place.”
“You have a lovely voice.”
“You told me my voice sounded like dogs howling.”
“That’s because I love you. And the last time you talked me into Singing, half the people mysteriously went home early. I’m not going to embarrass myself—”
“I think I was at that ceremony,” Loon Spot interrupted grimly. “That’s what convinced me to try being dead for a while. Don’t make him Sing.”
“I’m not going to Sing!” he declared.
Mossy smiled, but it was a halfhearted expression. “All right, I’ll find someone else. Now, please, let’s talk, Father.”
“Silvertip, wait here for me. I’ll be just a moment.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Mossy led him up the trail away from the ceremonial cave. When they reached a dark ledge, she sank down and heaved a sigh.
“What is it, Daughter?”
“One of our hunters just came in. He brought news that another Sunpath camp was attacked: the Nine Pipes band. The hunter said that he saw the slaves carrying more meat north.”
Lookingbill felt like a huge hand had reached into his chest and gripped his heart. “What of Skimmer and Chief Hookmaker?”
While Hookmaker had been one of the most strident Sunpath voices calling for peace, Skimmer had come to him less than a moon ago to ask his help in a plot to murder the Nightland People’s sacred Guide. Lookingbill had politely declined; his people feared the retribution of the Nightland clan Elders.
Mossy said, “Rumors say that Hookmaker was killed defending the ceremonial lodge. It is said that Kakala himself struck him down.”
“So Skimmer may have escaped?”
“Word is that Kakala took all of the women. If she’s free, it’s a miracle, and Wolf Dreamer himself must have been watching over her.”
Mossy studied his expression. “Are you wishing you’d agreed to help them?”
“You and I both know that I argued for it.” He glanced out at the night. “It is an unfortunate truth that serving as a leader generally means bowing to the opinion of the people.”
Mossy reached out to touch his hand. “Father, we are a different people than the Sunpath, but we also worship Wolf Dreamer. How long do you think we have before the Nightland warriors come for us?”
“Not long,” he said softly. “Once they’re finished with the Sunpath bands, I’ve come to believe we’ll be next.” He looked out at the night. “I was a fool to think they would only war with the Sunpath. Looking back now, I think we have been masterfully outmaneuvered by Nashat and the Prophet. We watched them destroy the Sunpath bands, thankful that they only wished to pass through our lands. Now, however, we must stand alone.”