“I have.”
The simple pronouncement stopped Mud Stalker short. “You have?”
“Yes. It’s odd that you should mention her. Deep Hunter and Stone Talon came to see my mother and me last night. To our surprise they made us a very good offer. Needs Two will marry Green Beetle.”
“He will?” Mud Stalker fought to keep his voice conversational. “You got good terms?”
“Green Beetle’s lineage is allowed access to those smilax-root grounds over by the sassafras grove. You know the ones I mean?”
“I do.” Mud Stalker felt his heart sink. Deep Hunter guarded those grounds jealously.
“I am very fond of Green Beetle,” Thunder Tail continued, apparently oblivious. He only had eyes for the treetop. “I almost married her to White Bird, you know. Good thing that I didn’t. Look what happened there.”
Mud Stalker studied the man through slitted eyes. “You were an old lover of Wing Heart’s, weren’t you?”
“Yes. It’s a shame. She used be as sharp as a chert blade.” Thunder Tail shot him a measuring glance, his dark eyes veiling the thoughts in his mind. “Curious, isn’t it, old friend, that even the strongest of us can lose our souls?”
“Yes. Curious indeed.” Mud Stalker stepped back, fingers running along the scars on his arm. How on earth had Deep Hunter managed to pull the catch out of his nets like this?
Enjoy your bear hunt, Speaker.
Anhinga wedged a thick branch between two closely spaced trees and threw her weight against it. She flinched at the crack as the dry wood gave. It took a well-placed kick to knock the piece loose. The process of bending over to retrieve it proved laborious. She no longer even attempted to hide the swelling of her belly. She puffed against the cold and placed the short lengths of firewood in her irregular stack. Satisfied, she bound them with a braided leather thong.
The desperate need to escape had been brewing like black drink within her. Using their need of firewood as an excuse, she had come here, deep in the forest west of Sun Town. She needed time to think. Her souls had gone to war with each other.
Salamander lay at the bottom of it. He knew she was pregnant—so obvious had it become—but indulged her in her need to get away. He hadn’t said a word about her absences each moon.
She glanced up at the sky, trying to decide what sort of man he really was. Clouds rolled out of the northwest, keeping the chill in the air. During the night, fog had settled over the land. A light mist had fallen, adding to the chill. By morning everything had been sheathed in ice.
She resettled her fox-hide cloak against the cold. A gift from Pine Drop, it was nicely done. Tanned to soft perfection and sewn with care, the rich red fur gleamed in the light. She began knotting a leather strap to create a yoke to be used for a tumpline.
Bending down, she positioned the cord on her forehead and wrapped several lengths of furry rabbit hide around it for a cushion. She grabbed up her ax, positioned the load, and straightened. The wrap of rabbit hide pressed into her forehead as she balanced the load on her hips and leaned forward. Straightening her legs, she stood.
Looking down she could barely see over her belly.
Three moons had passed since that day his gaze had fixed on her swollen belly. She had said, “I’m pregnant.”
“You have been for many moons.” He had just looked at her with those fathomless brown eyes, and said, “It’s all right, Anhinga. Go to them. The four or five days you spend away harms nothing. But perhaps, as the child comes to term, you might not travel so far? I think your uncle would understand.”
The words had struck fear into her in a way that no threat, no angry denunciation could have. Deep in her heart she had the distinct feeling that Salamander knew her every plan. Why, then, hadn’t he taken some action against her?
Logic might have led her to believe that the sandstone was worth it to him, but her worried souls knew better. No, he was playing some complex and terrible game, betting on her. How? To do what? Thinking that she wouldn’t go through with her plan to kill the father of her child?
Then you are wrong, husband. When Uncle tells me the time is right, I shall strike the Sun People in a way that will shiver their hearts for ages!
She need only remember that terrible day she had watched her friends butchered, their bodies cut to pieces and fed to the dogs. That nightmare lived and ached in her souls.
Knowing that he knew had changed something in their relationship. Salamander continued to treat her with respect and kindness. He had stopped coupling with her, fearful of damaging the child, and that, oddly, concerned her. Pine Drop was several moons behind her and just beginning to show. A worry had begun to form down in Anhinga’s souls. Was he going to spend all of his nights at his first wife’s house now that he could only couple with Night Rain? Not that she was any kind of a faultless wife.