People of the Owl(66)
When she did open her eyes for good they locked on his. He saw her incomprehension, and then fear, shame, and self-loathing reflected as they came tumbling out of her souls. A strangled sob choked in her throat, and she scrambled into a sitting position.
“Old Long Mad thought he saw you out here,” Jaguar Hide said amiably. “People have been worried. I have been worried. Your idiot brother, Striped Dart, of course, can’t seem to fathom what the trouble might be, for obviously you’ve just run off to explore the delights that a canoe load of strong young men could introduce you to. Or so he seems to think.”
She just stared at him as if he was a corpse freshly risen from the dead.
“Myself,” he continued unhurriedly, “I’ve come to the conclusion that you and your companions fared poorly on your raid against the Sun People. The gods and spirits that oversee war are capricious beasts at best. Snakes, don’t I of all people know that?” He cocked his head, pausing. “War is such a chancy thing. When I was young I had a great deal of good fortune at war. Some would like us to believe that the gods, Sky Beings, and Earth Beings grant us success or ‘blind the enemy’s eyes’ or some such rot.”
He chuckled at the notion, hand tracing an easy gesture in the air. “Me, I can tell you that it is just happenstance. Like casting gaming pieces. Sometimes one pattern comes up, sometimes another. I no longer believe in the intervention of spirits, Dreams, or sacrifice.” He paused. “In all my years I have come to the conclusion that other ways of harming the enemy must be embraced. Something that doesn’t entail chance events.”
Her jaw trembled as she hugged her naked flesh and curled in on herself.
“Whatever happened,” he continued, “I assume that you blame yourself. I can tell you not to, but you will do as your souls demand. Like your body, they, too, are wounded and need time to heal.”
Her glazed eyes were fixed on some terrible vision hidden deep inside her.
“From the bruises on your wrists and ankles I see they captured you. You’ve taken a bad beating.” He couldn’t see blood or other evidence that she’d been raped. “How in the name of the Sky Beings did you manage to escape?”
Her frightened eyes widened; her voice seemed locked in her throat. He could see her lungs working, as though her breath couldn’t catch up with her heart.
“It is all right,” he told her softly and opened his arms. “Come over here. Let me hold you. Together, you and I, we will make this right.”
Everything depended on how strong she was, whether she was a survivor or a broken captive. For long moments he waited, his eyes willing strength into her. His arms had grown heavy before she made the slightest movement.
She might have been an old woman, so slowly did she begin. When the tangled flotsam of her emotions finally let loose, she rushed him. He folded her into his arms, and she burst into tears. While sobs knotted her body, he held her, humming gently as he rocked her back and forth.
Mud Puppy was acutely aware of the giant barred owl that watched him with moist brown eyes. The huge bird perched on a branch three arm’s lengths above where Mud Puppy’s canoe floated on limpid brown water. The flooded backswamp steamed in the hot afternoon, columns of insects wavering as they drifted aimlessly in the still air. The faint hum of their wings echoed over the smooth surface.
Despite the owl, Mud Puppy lay stretched the length of his canoe, chin resting on the bow. He kept his attention focused on the alligator who floated no more than an arm’s length away. The big bull had caught Mud Puppy’s attention by roaring earlier. After paddling as close as he dared, Mud Puppy had let the canoe drift toward the bull.
Two eyes, like glistening golden brown stones, stared across the glassy surface with pupils in vertical black slits. The nostrils protruded in a rounded hump. Regular lines of scutes made dimples in the water where the big beast’s back lay submerged. The bull was old, his muzzle scarred. Mud Puppy guessed that he had to measure twice the length of a tall man. Some would say he was being foolish to drift his canoe so close to a swamp giant like this. Perhaps, but so long as he didn’t move, didn’t allow his scent to taint the water, he would be all right.
Hello, big fellow. He projected the words with his mind, unwilling to break the spell by speaking. He stared into the single slitted eye facing him. The soul behind that alien eye spoke of eternal patience and age. That same eye might have watched the Creation and absorbed all of the changes that had befallen the Earth since. It was said that Alligator knew of secret things: of poisons and medicines, of ways to breathe underwater, and the workings of debilitating illness and miraculous cures. The greatest secret that Alligator possessed was the knowledge of passages and tunnels that led into the Underworld. Alligator was the messenger. People had seen him slip up to grab people, thrashing them in the water before diving, carrying them down into the murky black depths. All that remained was a trail of bubbles that finally ceased to pop on the opaque surface. They left silence behind.