“I don’t understand what happened here tonight,” Mud Stalker said as he bent down and met Mud Puppy’s gaze with hooded eyes. “But know that I am your friend, Salamander. Don’t forget that. In the coming days you are going to be in need of a friend.” He offered his good hand. “Come, let me help you up. Your mother and your late brother’s wives have prepared a feast for you.”
Yellow Spider appeared by his other elbow. “I don’t know what you did, but it got everyone’s attention.” To Mud Stalker he added, “I’ll take his other arm. Let’s get him home.”
Salamander’s souls screamed in agony, but no sound passed his lips as Mud Stalker and Yellow Spider pulled him upright.
The room seemed to sway; and through the pain, an urge to throw up coiled in Salamander’s stomach. He fought it, struggling to keep his balance despite the weakness in his knees. Mud Stalker’s firm hand stabilized him.
“They will fear you now,” Many Colored Crow’s voice called through the haze of pain and blood, “ … and people always seek to destroy what they fear.”
Salamander lay on a cane mat in the midday shade behind Water Petal’s house. The incisions on his chest burned and ached under the slathering of bear grease. Before rubbing it on, the Serpent had mixed it with a concoction of gumweed and pine resin. The latter, he said, promoted healing and kept the insects away.
So many things were wheeling through his head. From where he lay, he could see the smoking remains of his house. Or, rather, his old house. It had been torched the evening before, in full ceremony, and White Bird’s bones had been incinerated along with everything that had been Mud Puppy’s. Not only had his few possessions gone up in fire, but so had an entire lifetime. Nothing remained the same.
He kept stumbling over the inevitability of that, eyes focused on the smoking rubble. It was then that Hazel Fire and Jackdaw came trotting along the edge of the embankment, turned onto the ridge, and approached. Their bodies were lithe and lean in the midday sun, muscles flexing and sliding as they trotted forward. Their hair had been pinned to one side as was the manner of their people, and they carried atlatls and darts in their right hands. As they caught sight of Salamander, both waved and turned in his direction.
Salamander managed a smile, but the pain that accompanied the subsequent wave brought a grimace to his face. His chest skin might have been pulled apart given the way it felt.
“Greetings, Salamander,” Hazel Fire called as he slowed and led Jackdaw into the cool shade. “It is our pleasure to greet you as a man.”
“I am happy to receive you.” Salamander smiled at them. “Could I get you something? There’s water inside. I think some of the root bread is left.” He gasped as he started to sit up.
Jackdaw waved him down. “Don’t move, at least, not on our account.” The Wolf Trader was frowning at the swollen scabs and pustulant tattoos. “We have come to bid you farewell.”
“You are leaving?” Salamander asked. “I hope it’s not because of White Bird. He wouldn’t want you to go just because of what happened to him.”
“It isn’t just that,” Hazel Fire said as he hunched down and leaned his back against the wall. “The water in the swamp is beginning to drop. People have been more than generous. We can’t carry all that we’ve been given in Trade as it is.”
“White Bird was our partner,” Jackdaw added.
Hazel Fire gave Salamander a serious inspection. “He was more than that. He was married to my sister in my own village. That strengthens the tie between us. It is for that reason that we are leaving you all the goods we cannot carry. Some we have given to Yellow Spider. The rest are yours to dispose of as you will.”
Salamander frowned. “This isn’t necessary.”
“You will need it,” Jackdaw replied, squatting and resting his wrists on his knees. “You should hear the talk. People are saying all kinds of things about you, about your mother, and what Mud Stalker is planning.”
“I don’t want any part of it.” Salamander looked away, a sadness in his breast.
“No, but it is being thrust upon you.” Hazel Fire rubbed his back against the rough mud wattle, scratching between his shoulder blades. “We have learned a great many things while we have been here in your town. You were kind to us, Mud Puppy.”
“Salamander,” Jackdaw reminded. “They call him Salamander now.”
“Your brother spoke to us of you.” Hazel Fire studied the smoking ruins of Wing Heart’s house. “But I don’t think he understood who or what you are.”