Twenty-six
“Tsauz?” Rain Bear called. “Tsauz, if you can hear me, I found your puppy!”
Rain Bear carried the dog down the trail away from the burned lodges. All day long, Evening Star had walked the mountaintop with the children, hunting for Ecan’s son. They hadn’t found a single track.
Rain Bear held the little dog close, wondering who had speared it and why. In the heat of battle, a warrior might kill a dog that leaped for his throat, but he wouldn’t waste a spear thrust on a puppy—and none of Ecan’s warriors had stayed long enough after the fight to prepare a meal, so he doubted the little dog had been targeted for food.
Not only that … Rain Bear fingered the dark red paint that encircled the wound. It had come off the spear. The few times he’d seen ground cedar-bark paint, it had been on special ritual tools, consecrated for killing witches. Ordinary warriors wouldn’t touch such things.
Five or six people in Fire Village used cedar-bark paint—Cimmis, the clan elders, and Ecan.
He took the trail through the burned guard post. In the past ten hands of time, snow and ash had been trampled into the mud until they’d formed a dark slimy wallow. The mud sucked at his moccasins as he walked through. Just beyond the smoldering lodge, he stopped and studied the rocks that rimmed the mountain trail.
“Tsauz? I’m here! Can you hear me?”
Rain Bear gently placed the puppy on a stone with his nose pointed to the north and his furry tail stretched out straight behind him. The puppy whimpered.
Rain Bear stroked his side, and called, “Your little black-and-white puppy is right on the edge of the cliff! He was speared during the battle. He’s dying, Tsauz. If you wish to say good-bye to him, do it now. I promise it is safe for you to come for your friend.”
The guard on the point to Rain Bear’s left turned. Rain Bear lifted a hand, motioning him to silence. The man lifted a hand in return.
An enormous crowd had gathered on the mountain slope between the burned village and the War God pillars, but here, lower on the mountain, and within sight of the charred bodies, he stood alone.
Rain Bear walked to the cliff and crouched down. The bitter fumes of burned wood and scorched hides stung his nose.
Near the pillars, people began Singing the Death Song.
Rain Bear swiveled to look. As Pitch led the procession up the slope at a slow, resolute pace, eight people followed him, carrying the North Wind People’s burial shrouds on their shoulders. Matron Weedis and her son would soon be on their way to the first of the Above Worlds.
Rain Bear propped his war club on his knees and stared out at the ocean. The tide was coming in. The waves had grown violent, battering the shore. He sighed and concentrated on the weariness that numbed his body. He hadn’t slept all the way through a night for three moons. It felt good to just sit and watch the water.
Movement caught his eye.
He sat perfectly still as the boy crawled up from the ledges beneath the cliff and used his hands to feel his way. He had his mouth open, and tears coated his young face. Crying without making a sound.
“Runner?” the boy whispered.
The puppy lifted his head, whimpering through the pain in its little body. When he glimpsed Tsauz, his tail thumped the stone.
Tsauz hurried, patting the ground until he felt the dog’s pointed nose; then he pulled the puppy into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Runner,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I should have hunted for you. I knew I should have. I was just scared.”
He kissed the puppy’s icy ears and held him close. The puppy’s tail wagged again, and Tsauz sobbed against Runner’s furry neck.
Rain Bear waited patiently, his heart heavy at the sight. What kind of creatures were humans that here, in the shadow of terrible atrocity, one little boy could bear so much love for a dog?
“I made something for you,” Tsauz whispered, and drew a prayer stick and six eagle feathers from his belt. “I heard your souls calling to me.”
The sky had turned a pale shade of lavender, and it blushed color into the feathers, making them look like sculpted amethyst.
One by one, Tsauz tucked the eagle feathers into Runner’s ears and slipped two between the toes of his front feet, then two in the toes of his back feet.
Rain Bear had never seen the ritual performed for a dog before. The boy was making certain that Runner could find his way to the North Wind People’s afterlife in the sky. He must have seen his father preparing the dead for the journey.
“I’m sorry I don’t know the Songs, Runner. But when I get home, I will find a Singer to Sing for you. I promise.” Tears flooded his cheeks.
Tsauz gently rested Runner on the stone, then got on his knees and turned toward the pillars. Sister Moon remained hidden, but her gleam cast a bright silver halo around the stone bodies of the twin war gods. Could the boy see it?