People of the Owl(39)

“Who?”

“She will try to kill you, Mud Puppy. She is very devoted, her soul wounded and angry. Don’t trust her.” The ghost wavered again. “I don’t want to go. So much … undecided. He’s going to die.”

“Who, who is going to die?”

“So much greatness. Taken before his time. How wrong I was … how very wrong.”

“Uncle?”

“Don’t fail us, boy …”

Only black wind remained. In the distance to the east, white strobed the clouds as lightning flared and died.

“Uncle?” Mud Puppy tried to stand, wobbling on his feet. His senses spun and tricked him. His small body thumped as it dropped onto the mound’s sticky wet clay.

“He has taken the leap,” Masked Owl said, his eyes glowing like coals in the darkness. “His Life Soul has fled. From here it will begin the journey to the West. Do you remember the promise you made to me?”

“That I will help you, yes.” Mud Puppy’s vision kept swimming, losing sight of the gleaming owl’s eyes. “Are you still wearing your mask?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Why does anyone wear a mask?”

“To make them look like someone else.”

“Sometimes, but not this time.”

“Then why?”

“You must find the answer to that, Mud Puppy.”

“Everyone is asking things of me.”

“It is your destiny. Do you have another question to ask me?”

From the recesses of his head, the question came: “Why did the Creator separate the Earth from the Sky?”

Masked Owl laughed at that. “You must answer that one on your own, too, boy. But, lest you become totally frustrated, I bear a message for you.”

“You do? Is it from Salamander? Would he be my Spirit Helper?” Hope leaped up within him like a fountain of light.

“He is considering it. But, no, the message isn’t from him. It is from Cricket.”

“Yes?”

“He wanted you to know that he sings with his legs. By rubbing them together. He also said to tell you that there is a lesson in that. The lesson is that you should never judge based upon appearances. A cricket might be a very small creature, but it can still make a great noise. In all the world only thunder has a louder voice than Cricket. Remember that, Mud Puppy.”

“I will.”

“You had better rest now. Your body needs time to Dance with brother mushroom. Oh, and about your uncle’s message, I would give it to the Serpent. He is the one most likely to understand. And, for the time being—outside of myself—he is your single ally.”

Masked Owl vanished as if he had been but a fanciful flight of imagination. Blackness, cold, and a terrible sickness remained.





White Bird could have chosen better weather for his homecoming, but instead of bright sunshine he got a gray drizzle that filtered down in streamers from the cloud-choked skies. Nevertheless, he stood in the rear of his canoe as it slid onto the mucky bank of the landing.

On shore a throng had gathered amidst the clutter of beached canoes. People stood respectfully behind the Serpent, their brightly dyed clothing creating a speckling of color against the gray, dreary day. In dots and clots they stretched up the incline above the landing. An expectant excitement ran through them as they talked anxiously with each other. Most were wearing flats of bark on their heads to shed the persistent drizzle.

Yellow Spider leaped out of the bow as White Bird stepped into the calf-deep waters at the stern. Together they pulled the heavily laden dugout as far as they could onto the bank. The dark silty mud seemed to grip the rounded bottom in a lover’s tight embrace. Behind them, the rest of the Wolf Traders landed, dragging their canoes fast against the bank.

White Bird and Yellow Spider straightened, extending their arms to where the Serpent waited several paces beyond them. The old man had a curiously haunted look on his flat, wrinkled face. Water trickled down the faded tattoos on his sagging brown skin. He might have been a standing skeleton, so thin and delicate did he look. Behind him the crowd went silent. White Bird was aware of their eyes, dark, large, and peering at him in anticipation.

“Great Serpent!” White Bird shouted the ritual words into the misty rain. “We are returned from the north with goods for the People!”

“Are you cleansed?” the Serpent called back.

“We are, Great Serpent. By your Power and skill.”

“Are your Dreams pure?”

“They are, Great Serpent! My Dreams have been pleasant this last night. My souls, and those of my companions, have been at peace.”

“Do you leave anger and disharmony behind you?”