People of the Raven(168)
“Did it?” Tsauz asked hopefully. Anything would be better than thinking his Spirit Helper was Trickster in disguise.
“You wouldn’t sound so happy if you’d seen it. I would have rather chewed on a moldering dog leg. I was just too tired to go out and hunt one down.”
“Elder, do you fear death?”
“Not as much as I fear Rain Bear’s cooking.”
Fifty-nine
Gispaxloats glanced uneasily at Kitselas. Their small fire had burned down to ashes, and as the first faint light of dawn sent rose colors through the thin high clouds, it was apparent that the great matron’s soul had fled. What was even worse, they were lost. He had no idea where the trail was that they were supposed to take, and without Astcat to tell them, all he could do was stumble on ahead and hope he was doing it right.
Blue Hand and Spotted Arm both sat across the fire, blankets around their waists as they yawned and rubbed their eyes. That didn’t hide the worry as they shot quick glances at the matron.
She lay in her litter just west of the fire, where the evening breezes would drift the fire’s warmth over her. This morning, however, her face was slack, her mouth hanging agape. Drool slipped silver down the side of her chin.
Gispaxloats shook his head, muttering, “What now?”
They had stopped for the night and set up camp in a shallow cove just up from a stream crossing. The location was bounded on three sides by basalt outcrops and partially screened by brush. Thick grass had made for good bedding, and enough snags had been snapped from the nearby conifers to keep the fire going all night.
“We follow our orders,” Kitselas said with resignation as he watched the old woman’s shallow breathing. “She is the great matron. That’s all there is to it.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Spotted Arm muttered as he stood, watched his frosty breath in the cold air, and then walked into the brush to relieve himself.
“Who cares if it makes sense?” Blue Hand, his younger brother, kicked his blankets off, rose, and followed. From behind the screening of brush, he added, “Kitselas is right. She’s the great matron of the North Wind People. We keep going.”
“Cimmis is going to pull our hearts out of our chests and boil them while they’re still beating.”
Gispaxloats pulled his war bag over, lifted the flap, and stared inside. “There’s enough food here for one breakfast. I say we cook it, eat it, and do as the matron told us.”
“Yes. Let’s,” Kitselas agreed. “We might as well eat it all. I’ve always wanted to die with a full stomach.”
Blue Hand stepped out of the brush and ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the listless Astcat. “Why did she choose us for this?”
“Because we’re the best.” Gispaxloats tossed more firewood onto the coals. “Kitselas, take that bladder over there and walk down to the stream. Bring me some water. I heard that the great chief always trickles water into her mouth when her soul comes loose.”
Kitselas took the water bladder and stood. “What if the great chief catches us before we can complete the task we’ve been given?”
“Then he’d better find the matron receiving the best of care.” Gispaxloats stared hopefully at Astcat. “I just hope she brings her soul back in time to explain for us.”
Reluctantly Blue Hand said, “Well, let’s get about it. We have the matron’s orders. I’ll build up the fire. You go cut green branches. If she wants a big smoke, we’ll make it so that the whole country can see.”
“Yeah,” Spotted Arm muttered as he stepped out of the bushes. “It’s a toss-up as to who is going to find us and kill us first.”
Do you see the smoke, my Chief?” Young Thunder Boy called.
“What smoke?” Cimmis asked.
Over ten tens of people twisted at once to look back at Cimmis. He felt like he was gazing into a writhing sea of disembodied faces. The North Wind procession resembled a snake with a chipmunk in its belly as it wound down the ridgetop trail. The triangular head of the snake was composed of three people. Immediately behind them, a group of around five tens of warriors marched. A bulbous circle of spear throwers encircled the Four Old Women’s litters. Another group of warriors brought up the rear, and the tail of the snake slithered out behind.
Just ahead of him, the Four Old Women shifted on their litters to see what the commotion was.
Thunder Boy said, “Someone is sending a signal down along the base of the mountain.” He swung around and pointed to the south-west. “You can still see the column of white smoke where the wind has blown it back into the trees.”