People of the Raven(27)
Her anxious fingers caressed the fine buffalo calf leather of her formal dress. Sense would have dictated that she wear one of the others, but this one reassured her, reminded her of who she was, or at least had been. Dropping another stick of wood on the fire, she stared at the flames. “What am I doing here?”
Her Dreams had been tortured. All night long, she’d run through her burning village trying to find her husband, Toget, and their little daughter, Bright Cloud. Now that she was warm and safe, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. Couldn’t banish the memories of that terrible night. She kept seeing Toget’s head as Ecan lifted it in the light of burning lodges.
The knot of grief in her chest seemed to be strangling her heart.
Her marriage to Toget had been arranged by her clan. They had never really loved each other, but had gotten along given the roles life had dealt them. He had been a good husband, as dedicated to Bright Cloud as he had been to his sister’s children. She would miss him not as a dead lover, but as the kind man he had been.
She shied away from thoughts of Bright Cloud—tried to block the scream that lingered in her ears. That memory was too painful.
She stared around the dismal little lodge, wondering what had induced her to ask Rain Bear’s protection.
“You should have kept running. You have relatives in the north.” Could she still go? Was that prudent, given the number of Cimmis’s warriors who would be on the trails looking for her?
She dropped her face into her hands. Long red hair fell around her. If she had only known how to find Dzoo. She might have avoided this dangerous and dingy place.
The wind moaned in the trees beyond the lodge. She lifted her head, wondering. Did she dare wait until night to creep away? She could travel north, avoid the war parties and scouts. Perhaps steal a canoe and paddle to some distant island.
“Stop it. You don’t have the strength, and you know it.”
She massaged her tight neck muscles. So much had changed. Two moons ago, she’d been looking forward to the day when her mother stepped down as clan matron and came to live in her lodge. Mother would have cared for Bright Cloud while Evening Star took over her fated clan responsibilities.
Now … none of that would happen.
Evening Star propped her chin on her drawn-up knees and gazed at the painted box of food that rested near the hearth. The box bore the intertwined images of a red killer whale and a blue cougar. Like her, they were animals out of their elements.
Why hadn’t she known that Cimmis was going to attack them? Why hadn’t Mother known? Naida’s web of spies rivaled anything Cimmis could arrange. Surely Mother had heard rumors.
She wouldn’t have believed it, no matter who told her. Cimmis was her brother. She loved him.
Cold hatred spread along her veins.
Cimmis, my uncle … my greatest enemy.
She picked up the wooden comb the women had brought her and began pulling the snarls from her wavy red hair. She’d bathed and washed her hair, but it was still damp and felt cool beneath her fingers.
When she’d finished, she opened the food box to find two neat stacks of dried berry cakes and a wooden cup covered with a bark lid. She bit into one of the cakes. The mixture of blueberry, coastal red elder, and highbush cranberry tasted delicious. She finished three cakes before she picked up the wooden cup and removed the lid. The rich smell of salmon oil caressed her nose. Taking another bite of the dried, berry cake, she washed it down with a sip of salmon oil. The blend of flavors sent delight through her. The North Wind People made something similar: a dried cake of black huckleberries and bunchberries: they served the dish with warm bear grease. For the moment, this tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten.
Voices rose from outside, and a man called, “Evening Star? It’s Rain Bear. May I speak with you?”
She stood and smoothed her hands over her fancy calfhide dress. Olivella shells gleamed on the bodice, and expensive dentalium ringed the collar. In the fire’s wavering light, the shells glittered. “Come.”
Rain Bear ducked beneath the door hanging and looked around. “Is your lodge satisfactory?”
“More than I deserve, given the animosity between our peoples.” She smiled dryly. “And no matter what, Chief, it beats sleeping under a rotting log while cold rain drips on you.”
Rain Bear gave her a knowing smile. The otterskin cape he wore seemed to have been sculpted over his broad shoulders. Worry carved lines around his deeply set brown eyes. He propped his hands on his hips, revealing the long red shirt beneath. “I spent time last night consulting with the refugee war chiefs and the various elders of their clans.”