People of the Owl(216)

Sweet Root and Night Rain stood across from him. His sister’s eyes gleamed, while Night Rain’s looked disconnected, lost in a tangle of conflict. Conflict over what? This was her chance to even the score and pay that barbarian witch back for the humiliation of that long-ago day in the forest. She should be happy to see her junior wife proven guilty of murder.

“Does it fit?” Sweet Root asked, leaning forward in the dusk to see better. She batted at the humming column of mosquitoes with an irritated arm.

“Just a moment.” Mud Stalker turned the skull, feeling the cold bone in his hand. How did a human head become so light? He paused, staring into the empty eye sockets, seeing the Y-shaped holes at the back. Even if he could do it by a wish, he wouldn’t will Eats Wood’s eyes back into those orbits. The young man had been a disappointment from the days of his birth, and truth to tell, Mud Stalker had always accepted that someday Snapping Turtle Clan would have to pay for the boy’s indiscretions.

“Better this way,” he whispered softly to the grinning skull. “You are now serving your clan as you never would have in life.”

“The ax,” Sweet Root reminded as she lifted it from where it had rested on the canoe gunwale. “Does it fit the hole?”

Mud Stalker turned the skull until it faced her.

She lowered the sharp edge to the oblong wound. The ax made a partial fit. The length was right, but something about the width didn’t work.

“Close,” Sweet Root noted.

Mud Stalker frowned. “I don’t know. The edges aren’t quite right. This isn’t anything I could take to the Council.” He glanced to the side, seeing relief on Night Rain’s face. What was this? She was truly relieved to discover that that Swamp Panther camp bitch hadn’t killed Eats Wood? Why?

Unwilling to give up, Mud Stalker gestured with his head and when Sweet Root removed the ax, he turned the skull around. He would try everything just be sure that he hadn’t missed some … Sweet Root neatly dropped the edge of the ax into the hole in the top of Eats Wood’s head.

“Perfect,” Sweet Root whispered, her eyes widening.

“I’ll be,” Mud Stalker breathed. “She did kill him. But she sneaked up and hit him from behind.”

This time when he shot a glance at Night Rain, it was to find her expression betraying shock, astonishment, and disbelief.





Feeling weary to her bones, smelling of fish, and with every muscle aching, Pine Drop plodded to her doorway. A faint glow of sunset still shone in the northwestern sky. The night smelled of smoke, cooking food, and voices carried in the air. She could hear laughter, cheerful banter, and the soft murmuring of conversations. In any direction fires sparkled and illuminated thatch-roofed houses, ramada roofs, and countless people. So many people come in from the hinterlands. So many fires. The smoky air over Sun Town had taken on a reddish cast. Normally, she admired the sight.

She shifted her daughter with one hand and used the other to ease the tumpline from her forehead as she lowered the basket of fish that rode in the hollow of her back. Straightening, she winced and made a face at the stiffness in her back muscles.

Her house and ramada were dark, seemingly deserted. She walked to the fire pit on the north side of the ramada and bent down, her sleeping daughter cradled on her lap. With a stick she stirred the coals, finding a few gleaming red eyes in the heavy hardwood ash. From the tinder pile she placed some twigs on coals, shifted her daughter, and blew carefully until flames flickered.

Bit by bit she built up the fire until it cast a cheery yellow light to illuminate the insides of the ramada and the big wooden pestle and mortar.

For a long moment she sat, tired, and stared into the fire. How did a person give up being who they were? How could she just walk away from her world?

“Was he talking outside of his souls?” she asked her sleeping daughter. “What are we without our homes? Without our families, lineages, and clans?”

Her baby’s face was a round golden brown globe in the firelight. Silky strands of black hair had escaped the fabric wrap. Her tiny mouth hung open under the smooth button of her nose. The tightly closed eyes reflected an innocent peace.

Had he been serious about just going away? What would that solve? The people who depended on him would just have to find someone else to depend on. Owl Clan would continue its decline, and Snapping Turtle Clan would continue to grow in prestige.

“Hello, Sister,” Night Rain greeted from the night as she appeared from behind the house.

“Where have you been?”

“Uncle and Mother had some things for me to do,” Night Rain said with a hollow voice.