Perhaps it was just the glare of the torches, but he swore that a huge, transparent figure stood at Nightshade's side, swaying in time to the beat of the drums.
Fourteen
Dusty afternoon sunlight streamed across the cornfields in the basin below, reflecting from the mist that twined through the short stalks. Shimmering, interconnected rainbows arced over the crops.
Lichen smiled. She stood half-hidden in a fortress of rocks, her bow up and ready. Though they had been hunting all morning, they hadn't found anything that Wanderer would let her shoot. He seemed to be waiting for some specific game, but he wouldn't tell her what it was. She had been pretty angry when he refused to let her aim at a grouse that strutted over the top of her feet. She sighed and studied him as he tiptoed across the bluff, his eyes on the ground.
Lichen frowned when he froze with one foot in the air. Slowly, he knelt, brushed at the ground, and whispered, "Come look at these tracks. Lichen."
She lowered her bow and trotted through the dense shadows cast by the towering rocks. She slid to a halt and braced a hand on Wanderer's arm to look where he pointed. Bare rock, covered with a scattering of old needles, met her gaze.
"I don't see any tracks, Wanderer."
"Ah, you're not looking very hard. Look again."
Lichen crouched to bring her eyes within a handsbreadth of the stone. The fragrant scent of cedar met her nose, but there weren't any tracks.
"What tracks?"
He jerked around and peered at her like a startled stork. His rabbit-fur shirt and breechclout shone whitely in a lance of light that penetrated the rocks. "Lichen, you're smarter than this. What do you see down there?"
"Rock."
"And what else?"
She glanced at the stone again. "A few cedar needles that M were probably blown off in the gale this morning." ^ "Yes!" He bounded to his feet and slapped her affectionately on the back. "Now keep your bow up. She's around here somewhere." He started off, taking one careful step at a time while his eyes diligently scanned the terrain.
Lichen threw him a glance. Blessed Thunderbird, we're not tracking a tree, are we?
She shrugged and fell into line behind him, tipping her face to the cool wind. It had tousled her hair all day as they climbed.
The afternoon smelled damply of water, as though it might rain. Clouds meandered across the tarnished amber sky. Two i full moons had dragged past begrudgingly since they'd had a soaking downpour. The few sprinkles that cooled the evenings did little for the crops. It worried Lichen. This moon had started out even drier than the last one.
"Ha!" Wanderer blurted. "More!"
Lichen trotted up to peer over the top of his gray head. He tapped a finger next to another cluster of cedar needles.
"We're close, Lichen, so be quiet. You'd better stay back and let me lead the way."
"Go ahead."
He gave her a confident wink before tiptoeing forward like a long-billed sandpiper in a shallow pool of water.
She crept along behind, trying to peer around his lanky body to see where he was going. Every so often he would stop and point out more cedar needles.
Lichen shook her head. They sneaked through a cluster of boulders where Wind Mother had laid down a thin layer of soil. Roots laddered the path. Wanderer thrust out a hand to stop Lichen from coming any closer. Then he knelt to stroke the roots reverently. When he turned, he stared at her so hard that she was afraid to breathe.
"I have to tell you something," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. "You know that red cedars are sacred, but this tree is special. You have to hunt her correctly, with the proper ritual intent—or she'll kill you. You understand."
"Why is she special?"
He leaned close and breathed, "She's First Woman's tree. She grows in three worlds. Her roots are buried deep in the Underworld next to First Woman's cave, but her trunk and branches stretch up through the earth and into the sky. Thunderbird lays his eggs in her branches."
Lichen listened in fascination. "And I'm supposed to kill her? I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Oh, we just have to be careful and do it correctly."
Lichen wet her lips. "Are you sure? What if one of Thunderbird's eggs falls and breaks?"
"That would be very bad. It might never rain again. And we're having enough trouble these days as it is."
She nodded in fervent agreement. "I know it. So, you know what. Wanderer? I don't think I'm the one to do this. Here—" she thrust her bow into his hands—"you do it."
Lichen took a step backward, swiftly clasping her hands behind her back lest he think of returning the bow.
Gently, Wanderer said, "I can't. You're the one who wants to find Bird-Man."