People of the Raven(50)

“Yes, Father.”

Rain Bear ducked beneath the flap and entered the warm confines of the lodge. In the firelight he could see Pitch against one wall. He looked strained and gaunt. Not that there was much to him to begin with. Roe smiled at him as she removed his grandson, Stonecrop, from her left breast. The little boy had milk smeared around his mouth. His round brown eyes rolled Rain Bear’s way, and he let out an excited squeal.

As in most Raven People lodges, a man could only stand bent over. On the walls brightly painted hides hung, and tied bags of dried foods rested in round baskets.

Stonecrop shrieked in sheer joy and crawled toward Rain Bear when Roe placed him on the split pole matting. Rain Bear held his arms out, smiled, and sat down to allow the round-faced little boy to crawl into his lap.

“How are you, my grandson?”

Stonecrop’s tiny fists waved; he grinned up toothlessly.

“He’s been a terror since Pitch got home,” Roe told him as she wiped her wet nipple and straightened her red-and-black dress. She wore her hair up in a coiled braid pinned by rabbit-bone skewers that emphasized her narrow face. She was growing into such a beautiful woman. In so many ways she reminded him of Tlikit. “Stonecrop missed Pitch so much, he won’t let him rest.”

Where he sat propped against a rolled buffalohide, Pitch smiled weakly. His skin was sweaty, gleaming in the light. Roe turned toward him, and he grimaced as she unwound the bloody cedar-bark-and-moss bandage. He swallowed dryly.

“How’s his fever?”

“Very high. I’ve been forcing him to drink willow bark tea, but it hasn’t done much good.”

“Has the wound soured yet?”

Roe gently pulled the last of the soiled bandage away so that Rain Bear could see for himself. The puncture had festered. Like an eye, the dark scab stared out from a yellowish puffy iris surrounded by inflamed skin. By morning, Pitch’s upper arm would be swollen twice normal size.

Roe asked, “Has Dogrib returned yet?”

“I just finished speaking with him. He killed the man you wounded, Pitch—and he was definitely one of the Wolf Tails.”

“Wolf Tail?” Roe shot a worried look his way. “But, they work for Cimmis, don’t they? Does that mean that Coyote is Cimmis? Or one of his warriors?”

“Maybe.”

“Cimmis?” Face drawn with pain, Pitch asked, “But why would he attack us, Rain Bear? Dzoo and I are just Healers, trying to save a few lives.”

“He knows Dzoo is our strength. The refugees trust her. Killing her would be a blow to their spirit. That is reason enough.”

Roe reached into the water, squeezed out a handful of seaweed cloth, and began gently washing the wound. Pitch ground his teeth against the pain.

“What about Dzoo? Did Dogrib find her?”

“No.” Rain Bear glanced down at Stonecrop, who had grabbed hold of his cape laces and was struggling with the perplexing task of untying them. “Nor did he find her body, which means she’s probably alive.”

Roe rinsed the cloth in the bowl and dabbed at the wound again. Pitch gasped, his body tensing as she worked the scab loose and blood-clotted pus leaked out in watery yellow streamers.

Roe pinched her nose against the stench and added, “Maybe she went straight to War Gods Village. She needs to fast and pray—to purify herself before the Moon Ceremonial tomorrow.”

Pitch writhed beneath his hide. “Yes. I’m sure that’s it.” He shuddered as Roe carefully squeezed the wound to drain it. “She’s … she’s very strict about these things. But something …”

“Yes?” Rain Bear asked as he dangled a lace in front of Stonecrop.

Pitch was gasping, struggling to keep the thought. “Something was bothering her. As if she knew something terrible, and would not tell. She said things, cryptic things. They left me unnerved.”

“Such as?”

“Such as our world was in danger. But she never said how. She’s a mysterious woman to start with, but to my thinking, she was even more strange on the journey here. Not that I could blame her after what happened.”

Rain Bear heard familiar steps outside.

“We brought the matron, Chief, as you ordered,” Hornet called. “May we come?”

Rain Bear turned to Pitch and Roe. “I hope you do not object. I asked Matron Evening Star to speak with you tonight. Perhaps she can make sense of what happened at Antler Spoon’s village, and on the trail home.”

Pitch nodded, looking relieved as Roe blotted at his wound. “I will be grateful if she can.”

“Come,” Rain Bear called.

Evening Star ducked into the lodge, and Rain Bear glimpsed Wolf Spider and Hornet as they took up positions on either side of the flap. She smiled uncertainly at Roe, her eyes narrowing as she took in the condition of the wound in Pitch’s arm. He had his eyes closed.