People of the Owl(79)

Wing Heart’s automatic hands formed the final shape of the rootbread loaf.

“Is it ready?” Moccasin Leaf kept her voice light.

Wing Heart stared with empty eyes. She might not have heard.

Moccasin Leaf used a forked stick to stir the cooking clays. The size of green-husked walnuts, they glowed a dull red among the gray-white coals. A combination of shapes had been placed in the shallowbasined heating fire: Some were biconical, others square and pocked by round indentations made with cane ends. By mixing shapes and sizes of cooking clays, the earth oven’s temperature and cooking time could be regulated and tailored to the kind of food being cooked.

“These clays are plenty hot.” Moccasin Leaf waited for a reply that did not come. “Wrap your dough, Wing Heart.”

The Clan Elder lifted a loaf of dough and placed it in the middle of a large green catalpa leaf. This she curled into a roll before picking up the next and woodenly continuing the process. It was eerie to watch her work that way.

Moccasin Leaf scooped a third of the cooking clays into the curve of a broken ceramic pot before dumping them into the excavated pit of the earth oven. Wing Heart knelt to one side as she finished wrapping the dough. The vacancy in her eyes never wavered as she went through the motions.

The oven had been dug arm deep into the ground and about the width of a forearm across. Moccasin Leaf quickly placed the rolled loaves side by side in the pit, jerking her hands back after each one. “Hot in there.”

Wing Heart remained mute.

“Good.” Moccasin Leaf was ready with another scoop of coals, which she deposited around the sides of the loaf, retreating as the heat came boiling out of the pit. She scooped the last of the clays onto the piece of broken pot and sifted them over the loaf. “Cover it.”

Wing Heart laid a flat section of bark over the hole and sat back, a slight frown on her face.

“Elder, it is plain that your souls are aching. Can I help you?”

Of course it was hard on Wing Heart. This was the second such feast she had prepared for in the last five days. Nor did she risk so much as a glance at her gloom-shrouded house, where White Bird’s body, or at least his bones, lay. The dull vacancy in the woman’s face sent a shiver up Moccasin Leaf’s spine.

“Elder, since I came here, you haven’t spoken a word. It might help if you talked about it. Sometimes words can free the grief from where it is lodged between the souls.”

That morning the Serpent and Bobcat—their faces streaked with charcoal—had come by with their sharp chert knives. White Bird’s flesh had been cleanly removed from the bones and carted off in baskets. By now it had been carried outside the protection of the ridges and laid out at Owl Clan’s little hollow in the forest. There, crows, feral dogs, and other carrion eaters would dispose of it. Only the bones remained in the house for White Bird’s Dream Soul to watch over.

Wing Heart closed her eyes, and a faint smile graced her lips.

“Are you seeing him, Elder?” Moccasin Leaf asked. “White Bird is alive, his eyes sparkling and brown. I see him that way, too.”

Wing Heart said nothing.

Moccasin Leaf shook her head. She deserved some sort of a response. “What are those Snapping Turtle women bringing?”

Wing Heart eyes opened and she stared absently at the ring of blackened ash where her brother’s house had once stood. By tomorrow night, her house, too, would be nothing more than that. A second ring of ash. Tomorrow, witnessed by the entire town, she would raise her torch to that roof and incinerate her son.

Then what, Wing Heart? Where does the clan go from there? Did she dare broach the subject? Wing Heart was obviously wounded, her natural craftiness blunted by grief.

“We need to talk.”

Silence.

“Despite your grief, someone must attend to the business of replacing the Speaker.”

Wing Heart gave her a dull glare.

Moccasin Leaf’s gaze slid away. “Half Thorn is ready to represent the clan. He has been preparing for the role of Speaker for years. But for Mud Puppy’s coming initiation, he would be here, ready to discuss matters with you.”

Wing Heart’s eyes seemed to lose focus.

Moccasin Leaf stiffened. “Wing Heart, it is time that you began to place the needs of the clan above your own.”

The Clan Elder’s lips twitched.

“I think you are hurting, the loss of your brother and son, along with worry about your youngest, has clouded your abilities. It is with this in mind that I have come to offer my services. Perhaps you should take some time for yourself, allow your souls to heal before you resume your duties. You need not face the coming trials alone. We are ready to …” At the glittering intensity that suddenly burned in the older woman’s eyes, her words went dry.