People of the Sea(165)
Blood surged in Lambkill’s ears, giving him a throbbing headache. He rubbed his temples. “I’ll try, son. I’ll try to catch her, but—”
“Don’t worry, Father. She’s not traveling with Sunchaser now. She’s alone and frightened. Well, not quite alone. She has my sister with her. But they’ll be easy prey for you”
Like a lust in his body, rage filled Lambkill. “Thank you, my son. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Thank you. I’ll catch her. And when I do, you and I will spend hands of time watching her lie.”
“Tannin is going to try to talk you out of killing her, Father. Do you know that?”
Lambkill ground his teeth. “Yes, I know. His time is coming, my son. He’ll pay for his disbelief, for his weakness! Just wait, Little Coyote. I will avenge every wrong that has ever been done you… and me.”
Lambkill frowned. Little Coyote had stopped talking and the glitter had vanished from his eyes. The green stones had gone dull, opaque. “Son? What’s wrong?” Lambkill asked. “Are you all right?”
From that withered mouth, a faint whisper came. “I’m tired. Father. Very tired…”
“Yes, I’m certain you are. We’ve had a long, hard journey to get here, haven’t we? Why don’t you sleep, Little Coyote. Sleep until I catch your mother.” Carefully, Lambkill lifted his son, kissed him on the forehead and put him back into the pack. “Yes, sleep well,
son. It will be a long walk home after we’re finished here, too.”
“Boy? Boy, I hear you crying. I want to tell you something. Listen, will you?”
“.. . I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I hate you!”
“Listen anyway, please. There was once a very young Dreamer, a Dreamer in the making, named Roseroot. Everyone loved her. And she loved everyone. She was very happy in her village. But one day her village was attacked and burned to white ashes by enemy warriors.
“She ran away, out into the desert, where she found a cave to live in. The only water she had to drink fell from the sky and pooled in a tiny basin in the stone outside of her cave. The only food she could find to fill her empty stomach was a wispy grass that grew in the rocky crevices.
“Hatred ate away at her soul, hatred for the warriors who had hurt her by killing her people. Hatred for Power for not warning her so she could save them. She made herself miserable with this hate.
“Many cycles later, a very old man came hobbling by her cave and dipped his hand in her water basin to get a drink. Roseroot ran outside to scream at him.
” “Get away from my water! You have no right to drink from my pool!”
“The old man looked up and squinted his eyes and gasped. “Why, aren’t you Roseroot, who used to live at Red Canyon Village?”
” “Yes,” she replied. “Who are you?”
” “I’m your Spirit Helper!” the old man replied. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Roseroot frowned, looked him over carefully and said, “No. I do not. And my Spirit Helper was no Helper at all.
He didn’t warn me before the attack on my village came. And he fled afterward and left me alone!” She began to weep bitterly.
” “Hmm,” her Spirit Helper said and heaved a deep sigh. “Then I guess you’ll never understand the ways of Power.”
” “What do you mean?” Roseroot demanded.
“The old man spread his arms ‘wide. “Well, look around you, young Dreamer. What do you see?”
” “Nothing. I see nothing! This is a terrible place of barren sand and bare rock. I hate it!”
” “Exactly,” said the old man. “Power went to very great efforts to drive you out here so you could learn about hatred without being distracted by love, but apparently you’ve spurned the gift…”
“And the old man vanished, as though he’d never been there at all.”
The Man stopped talking.
Boy blinked thoughtfully at the dark leather that surrounded him. Lambkill’s jarring steps made the pack sway. The scent of sage encircled the Boy. “I haven’t spurned your gift, Man. I’m trying to keep Death before my eyes at all times. But it’s so hard. Sometimes I fail.”
“And then you hurt, don’t you. Boy? You hurt and you hate.”
“… Yes.”
“You must try harder. Clutch Death to your heart with all your might. Try, Boy. You must try harder.”
Thirty-eight
Sunchaser hiked the trail with his atlatl in one hand, a selection of darts in the other. Pines jutted up above the rest of the forest, their pointed tops darkly silhouetted against the slate-blue opalescence of the evening sky, their branches swaying gently in the cool wind. A hand of time ago, Helper had started growling, the sound low, from deep in his throat. The dog’s eyes searched the forest vigilantly. He trotted at Sunchaser’s side with the lanky stride of a prowling wolf.