“Will they follow us all the way to Otter Clan Village?” Kestrel asked, looking over her shoulder. Her black hair swept around and netted her face.
Sunchaser frowned at the mammoth cow and her calf plodding silently at the fringe of the water. The mammoths had emerged from the trees just after he and Kestrel had left their old camp and had fallen into line behind them. The calf held on to his mother’s tail with his trunk. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
“I’d like that,” Kestrel said and smiled.
“Would you?”
“Oh, yes. I never feel whole unless there are animals close by.”
“It is said by the wise ones that it’s only through the eyes of animals that we see ourselves correctly … as we really are. Because animals see a person’s soul, unlike humans, who often see only the body.”
Kestrel snugged Cloud Girl closer to her breast, turning slightly to shield the infant from a sudden gust that carried spray off the water. Her eyes narrowed, as if lost in thought.
Sunchaser pointed. “Whalebeard Village is just around the base, of that hill, Kestrel.” Helper trotted at Sunchaser’s right side, hauling the travois effortlessly, though his tongue hung out. His hair had grown back in a thin black wealth. The fur made his nose seem longer, his ears more pointed. He looked strikingly like a wolf, but pale tan fur encircled his eyes and was the only light color on his entire body. His tail had become a dark bush.
Kestrel lifted a hand to hold her fluttering hair out of her eyes while she scrutinized the hill. Cloud Girl awoke and blinked at the world from her sack. “Whalebeard Village?” Kestrel asked.
“Yes. I haven’t been here in. two cycles, but the leader used to be a man named Woodtick.”
“So his wife will be the clan matron. Is that right? And she and her sisters will be the owners of the village?”
“You’re learning very quickly. Yes, that’s the way it works here on the coast. And when those women die, their daughters will take over the administration of the lodges and the clam-collecting beds. They will also inherit the possessions of the dead women.”
Kestrel shook her head in amazement. “It’s so different from the ways of my people. Men own and rule everything in my clan. A woman has nothing of her own. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the laws of the sea people.”
Sunchaser smiled, and when she smiled back at him, his throat tightened. He reached out and clasped her hand, twining his fingers with hers. Her touch reassured something deep down in his soul. “Yes, you will. It won’t take long. I’ll bet that you understand almost everything within three or four moons. This way is easier, you see. And it makes sense. People don’t fight over which family gets what if a man and woman decide they don’t like each other anymore. No one rights over the shellfish beds, or the root grounds.”
“What will be hard for me, Sunchaser? Are there some things that are very complicated?”
“A few. For example, kinship and how it affects social relationships are difficult. I’ve lived for over twenty-five summers and still don’t fully understand the way kinship works. But as a man, I’m not supposed to. Kinship and property, those things are the province of women. Political alliances are established based upon the economic advantages to be gained. In other words, you won’t just marry Cloud Girl to any man who comes along and takes a fancy to her. He’ll be someone who will advance the interests of the Otter Clan.”
She swung his hand happily. “But what if she chooses someone who won’t advance the clan’s interests?”
Sunchaser laughed. “She won’t. Cloud Girl is your daughter and therefore she will know where her duties lie.”
Kestrel tipped her face to the cool breeze and let it wash her tanned skin. Sunchaser’s gaze caressed every line, every tiny imperfection. A faint scar created a white ridge near her right ear. Another zigzagged down the side of her throat. Both of them were barely visible. And she had the healed scar that slashed her forehead. He knew how she’d gotten that one. But he wondered about the others. Childhood accidents? Or the legacies of Lambkill’s rage? The thought of someone hurting her made his blood rise hotly. He prayed he never had the misfortune to meet Lambkill. He couldn’t guarantee that he would behave in the dignified manner required of a Dreamer. Last night, he’d dreamed that he’d torn Lambkill to pieces with his bare hands. And he’d felt good about it, which worried him a little.
They rounded the base of the hill, and Whalebeard Village came into view. On the leeward side of the hill, more than a dozen lodges clustered in a crescent, facing the roaring waves of Mother Ocean. A flock of gulls swooped and dove above the lodges, squealing and cawing.