Desperate, Flycatcher squirmed to throw Screechowl off balance and then slammed his knee into Screechowl's groin. The bigger boy let out a yowl and fell back. Flycatcher scrambled up and darted into the brush like a jackrabbit, Screechowl hot on his trail.
People laughed and shouted encouragement to one boy or the other, while Vole took in the quiet beauty of the evening. The fifteen houses that formed a rectangle around the plaza stood like shaggy beasts, their door-hangings tucked up to admit the breeze. Along the glistening ribbon of the creek, women crouched to wash clothes, soft clap-claps sounding as they pounded the garments with rocks before dipping them back into the water to rinse away the dislodged soil and yucca soap.
The day had been so hot that the old people who had been out carrying water to the com and squash fields sat with sweat runneling the dust on their naked chests. No young male voices stirred the air. All of the able bodied men and four of the young women had gone to fight with Petaga. Only sixty-two people remained in Redweed Village.
Vole strolled over to Flycatcher's mother, Star Bulb. The flat-nosed, pudgy woman had coiled her long braids on top of her head to keep them out of the way while she pierced her youngest daughter's ears. Little Teal crouched tensely, her hands twisting in her lap.
"Do you need help?" Vole asked as she knelt by Star Bulb.
"No, this will just take a moment. Teal is two sunmiers, old enough to have her own ear-spools. I traded for some small greenstone spools last month. Just the right size to start with."
Star Bulb carefully surveyed her awl, made from the wing bone of a golden eagle, then slipped a small piece of wood behind Teal's ear to use as a stop. With a quick thrust, she punctured the lobe. Teal jerked, but didn't cry out. Her dark eyes stared unblinking while Star Bulb pierced the other lobe and laced short lengths of porcupine quill through the holes to keep them open.
"All right," Star Bulb said as she patted Teal on the arm. "Go play."
The little girl raced away to join the children playing ring-and-pin near the central fire. The "pin" was a sharp stick with a string tied to one end. The other end of the string had the "ring," a hollowed-out bone. The game involved tossing the bone upward and attempting to catch it on the point of the stick. One of the children managed the feat. The others clapped and jumped up and down. In the distance. Screechowl continued to chase Flycatcher through the brush. Their boyish shouts echoed in the plaza.
"So, Lichen should be coming home today?" Star Bulb asked.
"Yes. I'm sure they're coming." Vole's eyes traced the winding curves of the trail that led up over the half-moon-shaped outcrop that encircled the village. "They're probably almost here."
Star Bulb gave her a suspicious glance. "You don't sound certain about that. I wouldn't be either if my child had gone to learn Dreaming from old Wanderer. He's as crazy as they come. I don't know why you let Lichen go."
"Two reasons. Lichen loves Wanderer, and he's the best Dreamer in the land. He taught me. He taught Nightshade. And his Powers have grown in the past ten cycles. There's no one better for Lichen to learn from."
Star Bulb rocked back on her haunches. "If he's such a good Dreamer, why didn't he know about Petaga attacking all the surrounding villages?"
"Dreamers don't know everything. Star Bulb. Sometimes Power prevents them from seeing certain things—for its own reasons."
"Probably because Power knows Wanderer isn't human. I don't like looking into those raven eyes, either." She picked up her bone awl and mcked it in the small red pot resting by her knee. "I always thought that old man was strange, even when he was teaching you. I never trusted him."
Vole brushed away the sweaty strands of hair from her forehead. "I did. And he never let me down."
"Then why did you stop studying with him? I thought he'd done something terrible to you."
"No." She hesitated. But then, perhaps the time for honesty had come. Meadow Vole lowered her eyes, her hands fidgeting. "His Powers were so great that they . . . they frightened me. I wasn't ready to learn the lessons he wanted to teach."
Vole sighed and closed her eyes. I wasn't old enough to understand his love for me, either — gentle, unbinding, holding me as delicately as a spiderweb that ties two spring leaves. And my love for him was so childish, half worship, half infatuation for an older man who could and did ride the waves of the Underworld. And I'd felt so much guilt over Shouts-At-Night.
Star Bulb studied her, eyes neutral.
Vole shrugged. "Now I wish I had forced myself to leam those lessons. Lichen*s been having strong Dreams for years. If I'd learned more from Wanderer, I could be teaching her.**