People of the Owl(65)

“Am I your friend?” Mud Puppy asked suddenly.

“Of course, you silly fool.” Little Needle crossed his arms. “But I don’t know why. Even though you’re older than I am, people still make fun of me for spending time with you.”

“I am going to need friends.”

“Stop being morose. You’d think you were swimming with rocks around your neck rather than becoming the second most powerful man in your clan. If anything happens to him, those are going to be your wives! I’ve heard that you will be voted into the Council. It’s unheard of. You should be Dreaming about the future, about what to do if anything ever happens to White Bird.”

Mud Puppy bit his lip as his brother received the offerings of food and turned, facing the watching people. He raised the wooden plate that bore his first meal as a married man. “By accepting this meal I tie my life with that of Pine Drop and Night Rain, daughters of Sweet Root, who is the daughter of the great Clan Elder, Back Scratch. My clan is now their clan, their clan is now mine. I accept these women as my wives, to share with equally, to comfort and care for.”

Pine Drop and Night Rain, hands held demurely before them, cried out in unison, “We accept this man, White Bird, of the Owl Clan, as our husband. In doing this, we bind ourselves to him and to his clan. Let it be known among all people that we are married.”

“Let it be known!” Mud Stalker called from where he stood to one side.

“Let it be known!” Wing Heart absently shouted from the other.

“Let it be known!” the gathered people shouted, smiling and slapping each other on the back.

Escape! The sudden desperate urge seized Mud Puppy. He turned and slipped away through the gathered ranks. Ducking behind a house, he made his way down the long curving ridge until the line of houses hid him from view. Cutting across to the steep bank, he let himself down to the water and looked north. From the canoe landing, he could see a slim boat putting out onto the lake. Despite the distance, he recognized that lonely occupant: Spring Cypress. She didn’t look happy.

But then, perhaps she, too, could guess what was about to happen.





Jaguar Hide squinted as the morning sunlight burned white atop the mist rising from the still water. He paddled slowly through the boles of trees and out into open water. Across the rippling brown surface he could see a patch of greenery—an ancient and abandoned levee that protruded from the brackish waters. This was the place that old Long Mad, while fishing, had caught a glimpse of the girl. Here amidst the vines and water oaks his people had periodically camped or stopped just long enough to attend to any activities that required dry land.

With relief he passed into the shadow of the trees again and aimed the bow of his dugout canoe toward the shallow bank. As it slid onto the sandy ground, he stepped out and looked around before replacing his paddle with his atlatl and darts. A thousand birds called in the trees, and the faint hum of insects laced the air. The gleaming scales of a small snake shone as the reptile whisked itself into the safety of thicker vegetation. A dragonfly darted past his ear. Muscadine grape hung like thick brown strands of web.

He stepped through the lush matting of spring growth and sniffed. Ever so faint, he caught the whiff of smoke. On silent feet he wound his way through the moss-patterned boles of trees, ducking vines, spiderwebs, and hanging moss until he found her. She lay in a clearing that consisted of little more than crushed grass, strawberry and chickweed. Her fire pit—a rude hole in the ground—still smoldered. Wood too wet to burn traced lazy spirals of blue smoke into the air.

Though she was asleep, faint whimpering broke her cracked lips. His gaze traveled down her naked body, reading the welts and bruises through the stippling of insect bites. Scabs crisscrossed her skin and her hair was matted with filth.

Are you there, Niece? Or have your souls left this poor body in search of a more pleasant place to live? His heart went hollow, and an empty heaviness sucked at his souls. Blessed Panther, what had she gotten herself into?

He sighed, hunkering down on his knees to probe at the fire. Little help lay there. The wood she’d managed to find had no doubt been soaked through and through. He found chewed frog bones, probably the only food she’d managed to scrounge. A paddle lay beside her, the workmanship unfamiliar to him, though he suspected it was something she’d stumbled across on her errant adventure.

He seated himself and waited, arms across his knees. Perhaps a hand of time passed before she stirred, shifted, and cried out. Whatever nightmare had been winding through her dreams startled her awake. Her eyes flickered and batted, unfocused, before she moaned and twisted on the flattened leaves of her bed.