People of the Owl(233)

“He will be coming to us, little one,” she told the infant at her breast.

Anhinga smiled at the thought. “You should know, Daughter, that Salamander is the most cunning of all men. He will come to us. You will see. His enemies will not defeat him in the end.”

She turned her head, looking back in the direction of Sun Town, imagining the countless fires, the masses of people preparing for the celebration.

And there, among them, Deep Hunter and Mud Stalker would be feasting. Bowfin, Mist Finger, and the rest would finally allow her to Dream in peace.

Anhinga ran a finger along her daughter’s cheek, an empty sadness deep in her breast. The elation she had expected didn’t rise to bubble and froth between her souls. She had struck the Sun People, obtained her revenge. It left her hollow.

“As the endless seasons pass, little one, it shall be my secret.” Anhinga looked out at the black night. “If they accuse me, I shall deny it. It is the price I shall pay for success.”

She did not see the looming shadow of the great barred owl who sat in the tree above her, watching, guarding, and mourning.