Kestrel lifted her fingers again and noticed that the flock of auks that had been floating near the sand spit had waddled to the edge of the aspen grove and were craning their necks to watch. Forty or more of them. Soft chirps of curiosity eddied through their ranks.
Helper studied the birds suspiciously, one eye half open.
Cloud Girl grinned. Her shrill piping didn’t seem to alarm the birds. When Kestrel touched Sunchaser to draw the next segment of the maze, a tingle invaded her fingers. His body radiated warmth. She jerked her hand back reflexively.
Where are you, Sunchaser? Already on the path? Is that what the animals sense? She swallowed hard, glanced at the auks and nuthatches and lowered her fingers again to draw the sinewy red lines. Then the white…. Kestrel concentrated so hard on creating the correct interplay of red and white lines that she didn’t even notice the changing slant of the daylight. Father Sun methodically journeyed across the belly of Brother Sky until his body wedded with Mother Ocean’s. At the joining point, a swath of light flooded outward, turning the surface of the water to molten gold.
Kestrel lowered her hand to the cool granite to watch the glory. The high, wispy clouds blazed like fire-engulfed spiderwebs.
A faint grunt sounded behind her and Kestrel tensed. She spun around and her eyes widened. How long had they been there? The mammoth calf lay on its side in the lush grass, his trunk securely twined around his mother’s.
How could they have come so close without her having
heard them? The calf’s tail flicked up and down playfully.
The cow met Kestrel’s gaze with equanimity, but dark emotion stirred the brown depths of her eyes. Like a chill breeze on a warm day, Kestrel sensed the mammoth’s fear.
She whispered, “He’s trying, Mother. Really he is. He’s walking the maze right now, trying to get to the Land of the Dead so he can help you.” The cow tilted her huge head as though listening. She took a step forward, stopping no more than six hands from Kestrel, looming over her. A person never really understood how big a mammoth was until she looked up at one.
The cow’s musky scent filled the air, and the sun’s dying light burned redly in the long hair that clothed her twenty eight-hand-tall body. Mud caked the blunt feet that rested so easily on the ground. Kestrel was so close that she could see flakes of skin peeling on the front of the cow’s long trunk. Kestrel nerved herself to ask: “How’s Sunchaser doing, Mother? Is he all right?” The cow gracefully knelt on her front knees, then lowered the rest of her body to the ground beside her calf. Her left front foot pressed against the rock upon which Kestrel and Sunchaser sat. Grass stained the curve of her short tusks. How silently mammoths moved. “Can you help Sunchaser, Mother? He needs all the help he can get.” The cow flapped her ears lazily, but that burning brightness remained alight in her wizened eyes.
On the opposite side of the rock, the auks had bedded down with their necks stretched across each other’s backs. The nuthatches sat on their branches, their feathers fluffed out. The breeze stilled, and the aspen leaves ceased their soft rattling. All were waiting … The whole world was waiting.
Kestrel uneasily turned back to her paints. The lichen had steeped to a flaming gold tinged with the barest hint of green. She brought the shell closer and set it by her knee, then closed
her eyes again and saw her design. This part had to be perfect. She could risk no mistakes.
Yellow. For you, Sunchaser.
Yellow would outline the twisting route that led to the heart of the maze. When completed, the path would resemble serpentine flashes of lightning. Yes, that was it. To help light the way for Sunchaser.
Kestrel opened her eyes and lowered her fingers to the paint. But as she began to chart the circuitous route around the edges of the maze, she caught movement from the corner of her eye.
The mammoth cow’s dark gray trunk eased up over the edge of the rock and tenderly coiled around Sunchaser’s bare foot, holding it in a lover’s grasp. The cow vented a small, satisfied sigh.
Kestrel looked down and smiled. The cow had tilted her massive head sideways, mashing down the tall grass so that she could see Sunchaser’s face. Her short tusks gleamed. The calf had shifted, falling asleep near the cow’s hind legs, sprigs of fern sticking out of his mouth.
Sunchaser didn’t seem to feel the cow’s touch, but he had ceased chanting. His breathing had become so shallow that Kestrel could barely discern the rise and fall of his broad chest. Anxiety tickled her stomach. How long would he be Dreaming? All night? For days?
There were so many things she wanted to tell him…
So many things she feared.