People of the Raven(18)
Pitch didn’t even try to act casual. “Why, Soul Keeper? Among us, I mean.”
Rides-the-Wind gingerly took a step down the trail. Over his shoulder he said, “Something is coming, Pitch. I need to have counsel with Chief Rain Bear.”
“Counsel?” A hostile tone lay in Pitch’s voice.
Rides-the-Wind didn’t look back as he called, “About how to keep the wind from whistling through his chest.”
Seven
The forest had not yet given up the night’s numbing cold. Frost glittered in the towering fir trees and covered the beach. Even Mother Ocean seemed to have frozen in place. Her waves washed the shore in soft, quiet strokes.
Rain Bear pulled his otterhide cape closed at the throat and followed the trail through the crowded refugee camps. Behind him, Dogrib carried a net bag full of crabs they had collected from a trap. One of the camp dogs had died, and Rain Bear had used the carcass to bait his crab trap in a tidal pool. He would use the remains to catch crabs until it was exhausted. Today’s catch wasn’t much, but they were going to need every scrap of food given the unending trickle of people limping in from the northern villages.
Dogrib shook his long white hair back and muttered, “Our lookouts say Ecan’s war party is two days to the north. What are we going to do?”
Rain Bear glanced at his war chief. Dogrib’s unusual pale skin had reddened with the chill, and a somber weight lay behind his blue eyes. “We must speak with the other war chiefs. See what they say. Then, we’ll decide.”
Rain Bear took the southern trail through the Orphan Village camp where people, filthy from days of fighting on the run, hunched over their breakfast fires. Some were boiling strips of bark and fir needle tea—their only source of sustenance. A constant staccato of coughs peppered the air. They cast longing glances at the bag of crabs visible through the netting.
“I don’t understand any of this, Rain Bear. Why would Ecan attack us? We paid our tribute. Did Evening Star give you any reason?”
“No.”
“Then why do you believe it?”
“I’m not sure I do. But I can’t very well afford to ignore her warning, can I?”
As they passed another group of villagers, conversations halted; then awed whispers broke out and heads turned, following them.
“Is it true?” A young warrior staggered to his feet and called to Rain Bear. A bloody bandage wrapped the right side of his head. “Is Starwatcher Ecan coming?”
The weary people around him whispered and glanced fearfully at the surrounding forest.
Rain Bear lifted his hands reassuringly. “His war party is two days away. Our scouts are keeping a close eye. As we receive more news, we’ll send runners to notify every chief.”
The man nodded as he sank back to the log where he’d been sitting.
Rain Bear started to walk away, but an old man’s frail voice stopped him: “Where is Dzoo, Chief? Why isn’t she here to protect us?”
At the sound of Dzoo’s name, quiet descended. People stared wide-eyed at Rain Bear.
He turned and saw the old man standing in front of his makeshift lodge—little more than deerhides sewn together and draped over a cord strung between two trees. He resembled a knotted twig. White hair straggled around his gaunt face.
Rain Bear replied, “Dzoo is away on a Healer’s journey, Elder. I have sent Singer Pitch to fetch her home.”
The old man heaved a tired sigh. “How long do you think it will take?”
Dzoo was legendary. A creature of darkness and moonlight, she moved silently through the shadows like a hunting wolf, Healing, praying with people who had lost everything. It was said that she could read the future in the patterns of sea foam. Some considered her a living Spirit, others, a god.
Rain Bear added, “She promised to help Matron Weedis with the preparations for the Moon Ceremonial at War Gods Village. I’m sure she planned to be home by then anyway, but perhaps my son-in-law can persuade her to return sooner.”
Her name passed through the camp like the hiss of rain: Dzoo …
The old man squared his bony shoulders. “I brought my people here because I believe in her Power, Great Chief. I will feel better when she walks through my camp.”
Rain Bear nodded sincerely. “As will I, Elder.” He looked around at the ragged people. “War Chief Dogrib will leave this catch of crabs with you. Please, Elder, see to it that they are distributed as far as they will go among the most needy.”
Dogrib unslung the net bag and offered it to the old man. “We should go, my chief. We dare not be late.”
They continued along the path, stepping over roots and rocks to the makeshift lodge set up at the edge of the clearing. One guard and three attendants already stood outside. They watched Rain Bear’s approach with narrowed eyes.