A whimper rose unbidden in his throat; he swallowed hard to stifle it before it could be heard. No, he must not allow them to see any trace of pain or fear. But how? The pricking needle, the rubbing fingers, the line of fire crossing his chest was growing worse. Panic curled and flexed under his ribs. Within heartbeats, he would be screaming his fear and pain.
“Talk to me!” the voice came echoing from deep in his souls.
“Masked Owl?” he asked, hardly aware that he’d spoken aloud. The faintest break in the rhythmic chanting and clacking could be heard.
“Hush!” the Serpent muttered angrily.
The voice told him: “Keep your eyes closed. Concentrate. I am here. Hovering above you, around you, my wings beating away the pain. Look with your souls. Do you see me?”
Mud Puppy tried to see Masked Owl’s familiar form, but a glowing blackness, a hovering dark shape, flew around him on midnight wings that traced rainbows through the air.
“Many Colored Crow?” Mud Puppy asked. “Is that you?”
“Hush!” the Serpent’s voice chastised again.
“Yes, I have come to watch you be made into a man. You are important to me, young friend. The future lies with you.” A pause. “Your brother is here. He says you look like a splayed worm, wiggling and jiggling .”
At that, Mud Puppy laughed and spoke from his Dream, “That’s like you, isn’t it, White Bird? You always made me laugh when you teased me.”
“He says to tell you he misses you.”
“And I miss you, Brother.”
“He asks, Do you remember the time you greased the log bridge across the gully?”
“We thought Yellow Spider was supposed to come home that way, but it was Uncle Cloud Heron who appeared on the trail. He started across, carrying a sack of poison sumac cuttings to make fish poison out of.” His uncle had slipped, and plunged headfirst into the sticky black mud. The subsequent rash had deviled him for weeks. Mud Puppy chuckled out loud, remembering his uncle’s mad roars as he and White Bird cowered in the modest concealment of a cane patch and hoped they wouldn’t be discovered.
From somewhere in the distance he heard the Serpent make a shushing sound.
“And the worst thing was, we did it to him again, not a year later,” Mud Puppy added silently, then burst into giggles.
“Quit that!” the Serpent’s voice intruded.
Mud Puppy blinked his eyes open, the last of the giggles dying on his lips. He realized that the room was silent, that the pain in his chest was returning. The Serpent had a puzzled look on his face.
“I was talking to Many Colored Crow,” Mud Puppy blurted. In panic he realized that the men lining the walls were staring at him with uneasy brown eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” He tried not to wince at the returning pain.
“No one laughs,” the Serpent muttered. “It is supposed to be a test of courage. To be taken seriously.”
“I’m sorry.” Mud Puppy glanced around nervously. “Forgive me.”
He nodded for the Serpent to go ahead, and couldn’t help but hear the soft whispering as the chanting began again. The words didn’t carry the conviction this time, and Mud Puppy could feel the difference in the air: uncertainty, hesitation. He screwed up his face to mask the renewed pain as the Serpent twisted the needle in the seemingly endless process of making him a man.
Can’t I do anything right? When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Mud Stalker staring hard at him from one side, something dangerous and provocative behind his eyes.
“Beware,” Many Colored Crow whispered to his souls. “They will begin to fear you now.”
Fear me? The notion took him off guard. Since when had anyone feared Mud Puppy?
“You laughed during your initiation,” Many Colored Crow reminded. “They will remember that. And the fact that you talked to me.”
A sudden fear ran through him.
“From this night forward,” Many Colored Crow whispered, “you must live differently, Mud Puppy. Everything has changed. Hear my words: After tonight they will try to destroy you. Place your trust in your Spirit Helpers, in the animals, and in the plants. Look beyond the skin. See into the souls. You will not find allies in the usual places.”
“Masked Owl said—”
“Has he promised you the One? Promised you the Dance? Are you just another of his playthings like your brother, White Bird? A thing to be broken and discarded if you disappoint him?”
“What?”
“Let me show you what Masked Owl has in mind for you.”
The vision came spinning out of the darkness behind his eyes. Death swirled around like a charcoal wind. The odor of putrefaction wafted past his nostrils, while coldness touched his skin. He could sense the huge black shape of a malignant bird hovering above, feel the cold strokes of the spirit bird’s midnight wings.