“Of course we do.”
A great sadness filled his voice. “Wolf Dreamer said that a man couldn’t love and Dream. I want to do both. If only I could tear myself in two, send my Dream Soul to spin with the One, and my Life Soul to embrace you and watch my daughters grow.”
“Half the time I have no idea what you are saying.”
He smiled sadly. “Someday you will. You are the future.”
“Forget that for a moment and listen to me!” She took a breath. “Uncle is working in secret, building an alliance to have you declared a witch.” There, she’d done it. Betrayed her clan as surely as Night Rain had done. A sick feeling stirred in her gut.
“They can’t destroy what they do not comprehend.”
“They can smack you in the back of the head with an ax,” she declared. “If the Council decides to brand you as a witch, they won’t give you any warning. They will act by surprise, and you won’t know until you feel your skull split open.”
For a long time he sat there, eyes flickering under the closed lids. “Why do you care, Pine Drop?”
She looked down miserably where she picked at her fingers. “I have come to love you.”
“There is no greater gift and no greater curse.”
“Curse? What do you mean?”
“You draw me back from the edge.”
She squinted in disbelief. “You really want to fall off that edge you were talking about?”
“More than anything you can imagine, Wife.” A faint smile bent his lips. “But for you, all of you, I would be drawn like a bee to a pitcher plant. I would lick desperately at the sweetness as I fell into the depths.”
“By the Sky Beings, why?”
“Because the other way would be too painful.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what I will have to give up for the future, Pine Drop. I just don’t know if I am strong enough to see it through. I am so tempted to choose a long and happy life.”
“Then choose it! Help me stop this witchcraft story before it starts.”
He smiled, as if amused by her worry.
“I need to know something, Salamander. Did Anhinga kill my cousin, Eats Wood?” There, she had asked. Now, waiting for his reply, her souls twisted in anticipation. In response, he just sat there, legs crossed, eyes closed, holding his hands palm up. “Salamander?”
“No, she did not.” He raised his hands, inspecting them intently as he worked his fingers back and forth. He blinked, clenched his fists, and stiffened his back as if stung.
“Salamander? Did you kill him?”
“I think it would have taken someone with a warrior’s courage to kill your cousin.” He shot her an innocent smile. “I’ve been meaning to give you something.”
She frowned, unsure what had just happened between them.
He reached into the tuck of his breechcloth and pulled out a sinew-wrapped square. With careful fingers he unwound the thread, revealing two pieces of flat bark. This he handed to her.
The wood felt warm to her fingers, as though they had been baking in the sun. She separated the pieces finding five blue jay feathers that had been resting there, perfectly pressed by the soft bark.
“What?” she asked, lifting the delicate feathers.
“You left them the morning you took the little carved owl. I am returning them. You didn’t have to leave anything in payment. That owl was for you. I just hadn’t finished it yet. I would rather see those feathers sewn into the bare patch on your cloak.”
Tears caught her by surprise and blurred her vision with silver. “What is happening to you, Husband? What are you becoming?”
“The future.”
Pine Drop’s daughter had been born in the middle of the night while a misty spring rain fell. They had run low on wood, having to send Night Rain to borrow from one of her cousins. Anhinga wrung out a cloth as she cleaned the blood-streaked infant. Curious, wasn’t it, that caring for a newborn could become such second nature in so short a time?
She glanced at her own daughter, asleep in a cane-framed cradleboard. The child’s wispy black hair was visible above the cloth bundle, her skull like a delicate gourd. Looking closer, Anhinga could see that her eyes were closed, the tiny mouth open to expose pink gums and a curl of tongue.
“It was easier this time,” Night Rain said as she held Pine Drop’s hand.
“Easier for you,” Pine Drop answered wearily as she lay gulping air like a dying fish. Sweat beaded on her brown skin, pooling in the stretch marks around her navel.
“I thought it was enjoyable,” Anhinga said, eyes flashing. “I enjoyed repeating those things you told me.”