People of the Sea(177)
So, what was going on? The tone of her voice was worried, like a mother for a child … or a wife for a husband. Prickles of unease traced patterns down Horseweed’s back. Witching, hunted women, the mammoths’ suicides—and he was right in the middle of it all.
Horseweed ran lightly down the trail the woman had taken, then ducked from one tree to the next as he followed her. Where had she gone? He squinted into the darkness.
A dog whined, giving him a target in the blackness. Horse weed crept closer, then stopped when he saw her feet sticking out from beneath a head-high stack of deadfall. She’d left her atlatl and dart on the ground outside. Her moccasins had dark, wet splotches on the bottoms. In the moonlight, the splotches looked like… blood? He gripped his weapons more tightly. “Oh, Sunchaser! No… no!” the woman cried. “Helper, go around me. You have to get out so I’ll have enough room to drag him. Move!”
A scuffling sounded from under the arch of deadfall and
the dog emerged. It got up and shook the pine duff from its thick coat. Dust glittered and spun little whirlwinds in the silver light penetrating the branches.
When Helper saw Horseweed, he let out a growl, and the hair on his back stuck straight up. Horseweed knelt and extended a hand. “Come here, boy. It’s all right. I’m a friend. Remember me?”
That’s when he saw the broken dart shaft. It lay at his feet in a puddle of old blood. What had the dart struck? An animal? Or a human predator?
Helper stepped toward Horseweed to sniff his hand. He wagged his tail and whimpered. Just then the woman’s head appeared at the end of the logs. Long hair trailed around her. Her eyes had dilated enormously. As she crawled out, Horseweed could see the tears that streaked her cheeks.
“Who are you?” she demanded. She’d hooked her atlatl on her belt. Her hands were empty. “Never mind. Come over here! I don’t care who you are, I need help. Now!”
Horseweed put his dart back into his quiver and tied his own atlatl to his belt thong then walked over cautiously and knelt beside her. He could smell the pungent scent of blood. “Who’s in there? Is it Sunchaser?”
She searched his face anxiously and nodded.-“Yes. Do you know him? You told Helper you were a friend. That’s the only reason I didn’t dart you when I first came out.”
“I know Sunchaser. He comes to our village often.”
“Then help me. Please! He’s injured and unconscious. That space is big enough for only one person and I…” she made a panicked gesture “… I don’t think I can manage to drag him out!”
“Let me try.”
She rose and stepped aside. Horseweed glanced at her as he tentatively placed his atlatl and nocked dart on the ground beside her weapons. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were riveted on the pile of deadfall. He got down on his stomach and crawled into the dark womb formed by the fallen trees and tangled branches. Thin lances of moonlight pricked the
darkness. The scents of moss and pack rat dung mixed eerily with the pungency of blood.
Sunchaser was lying on his left side, one arm stretched out. His clothing had been torn to shreds, baring his chest. Horseweed gasped and scrambled forward. Claw marks covered Sunchaser’s arms and legs. Horseweed touched one of the dark pools that glistened on the ground. It felt sticky and cold.
Blessed Spirits … “Sunchaser?” Horseweed called as he slid closer. He couldn’t see Sunchaser’s face very clearly, but the Dreamer’s deep-set eyes looked sunken and blood spattered his square chin and white hair.
A staccato of fear began to beat in Horseweed’s chest. Sunchaser wasn’t dead, was he? No … no, the wounds didn’t look that severe. Still… Horseweed reached out and placed his fingers against Sunchaser’s throat. Relief spread through him when he felt the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. He let his hand sink to the ground. “Sunchaser?”
“Hurry!” the woman said from where she knelt in the entryway. “Get him out of there so I can have a good look at his wounds.”
“Bringing him out safely isn’t going to be that easy,” Horseweed called back. “I think he was attacked by a bear, or maybe by one of the big cats. I found a broken dart shaft outside. The animal must have gotten away. I’m going to need your help so we don’t break the wounds open again when we move him. He can’t afford to lose more blood.”
Horseweed backed out. The moonglow seemed brilliant compared to the darkness of the deadfall. An old forest giant, its trunk as thick as three men, had fallen here, toppling the lesser trees around it. For a moment, he studied the dead wood, then braced himself, heaving with all his might. One of the logs lifted, but try as he might, Horseweed could not pull it loose from the mass that pinned it.