People of the Owl(62)

It is short-lived, Mother. Enjoy this day while it lasts. You are lost … we are lost.

Mud Stalker raised his good arm high. “Not only does Snapping Turtle Clan vote to accept this new Speaker to the Council, but it is with pleasure that we announce to all that he is promised to marry two sisters from my own lineage.”

Mud Puppy watched the surprised looks, curious that only Thunder Tail and Stone Talon appeared surprised.

“They play a devious game,” Masked Owl’s voice echoed in Mud Puppy’s head. “Like a snake swallowing its own tail, it shall consume them in the end.”

“Tomorrow, White Bird shall be joined with Pine Drop and Night Rain.” Mud Stalker raised his good hand, palm up in a gesture of satisfaction. “And in further demonstration of the faith that Snapping Turtle Clan has in Owl Clan’s leadership, we make this marriage in perpetuity.”

That brought looks of astonishment to everyone’s faces except Wing Heart’s. Even Clay Fat appeared to be stunned.

“You what?” Cane Frog cried, blinking her one white eye.

“Should anything happen to White Bird,” Mud Stalker continued, “the sisters shall go to White Bird’s brother. An uninterrupted alliance between our clans.”

“You mean … they would go to Mud Puppy?” Clay Fat cried incredulously.

“No!” Mud Puppy lurched to his feet. In the sudden silence, he was aware of all eyes turning his direction, seeking him out.

In a blind panic, he turned on his heel, almost bowling Little Needle over in his horrified flight. Careening off people, he broke free and sprinted toward the Bird’s Head and the dark safety of the summit.

It was all going wrong. This night would lead to a future he wanted to refuse with all of his heart. “Please, Masked Owl? Make it go away! Leave it the way it was. Please?”





White Bird stretched, blinking himself awake. Morning light cast a blue shaft through the doorway to illuminate the inside of his mother’s house. The central fire still smoldered, smoke rising to collect in a dusky haze that filled the low roof just above his bed. From the angle of the sun entering the door, he knew it was still early. He should have been dead tired. It couldn’t have been two hands of time past since he’d crawled into bed, his stomach bloated from the feasts he’d attended. After the breaking of the Council, he and his mother had made the rounds, walking from clan ground to clan ground, shaking hands, eating what was offered, and accepting gifts and accolades wherever they passed.

The worst jolt had come when he finally faced Spring Cypress. The broken look in her eyes had wounded his souls as had nothing he had ever experienced.

“You want this?” she had asked in a quavering voice, her eyes searching his, desperate for any hint of negation.

“I must.”

She surprised him with the rapidity in which she pivoted on a heel and raced off into the night. That momentary glimpse of the betrayal she had felt stung the space between his souls.

How do I ever make it up to her? The question rolled around the inside of his head as he studied the smoke-filled rafters. What are the clans up to? Even in the glow of his success he could feel the net cast about him, unseen hands ready to draw it tight. His mother’s role was apparent enough. Her single purpose in life was to be the Clan Elder. From the time he had been a small boy he had understood that she would do anything, sacrifice anything, to maintain that position. And were she ever to be stripped of that duty? What then?

He shuddered at the thought, then glanced over to where she slept under a thin deerskin robe. Even in the softly filtered morning light her lined face betrayed its age. Her mouth hung open, and he could see missing molars in the back. Deep wrinkles surrounded her sagging breast, and loose skin had folded around her armpits. Tyrant that she was when awake, in sleep she looked pitifully vulnerable.

She couldn’t stand it if she weren’t Clan Elder. Relieve her of the title, and she would destroy herself rather than accept a lesser role.

For the moment he was unsure what to think about that. It all had been placed on his shoulders—all of her dreams and aspirations—as he had always known it would be.

Am I good enough? Strong enough? Can I meet all these expectations?

“We need to talk.” The soft voice caught him by surprise. Startled, he could just make out Mud Puppy’s form where it sat in the half darkness behind the shaft of morning light.

“Mud Puppy?”

“Not here.”

“But I—”

“Come.” Mud Puppy stood, allowing the thin fabric blanket to fall from his skinny shoulders. Without another glance at White Bird, he stepped into the shaft of sunlight and ducked out into the morning.