People of the Sea(185)

Oxbalm leaned forward slightly. “Later tonight, Kestrel, I want to talk with you about this. Once we’ve taken care of Sunchaser.”

Kestrel nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know.” In a faint whisper, she added, “And what Sunchaser suspected.”

Sumac studied Kestrel thoughtfully. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she asked, “What are you doing with Sunchaser? I’ve never known him to take up with a woman before.”

“He … he was bringing me to you. We went to your old village site and tracked you down the beach to Whalebeard Village. There they told us where you’d made your new camp. But the rest… I’m afraid it’s a long story.”

“I want to hear every word of it,” Oxbalm said. “Later.”

Kestrel wondered why she hadn’t told them that she and Sunchaser were lovers. Sunchaser wouldn’t care. What did she fear?

LambkiH’s response if he knew… He’d want to kill Sunchaser. Just as he had killed Iceplant. Hatred gave her the strength to walk bravely past Lambkill, following Horseweed as he hauled the travois to the opposite side of the fire and eased it down.

The warmth of the flames touched her face and made her shiver. The woman holding Cloud Girl to her breast



sat only ten hands away, but Kestrel couldn’t look at the baby, couldn’t give herself away to Lambkill. If she so much as dared to gaze at her daughter, such love and longing would color her face that he would know for certain whose child Cloud Girl was. Hers … and Iceplant’s.

Sumac took a young boy’s hand and commanded, “Go fetch my bag of Spirit Plants, Balsam. And bring one of the water bags.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” He raced away and ducked into the closest lodge.

Horseweed stood by Kestrel, took his atlatl from his belt again and calmly nocked a dart in the hook. He gave her an encouraging glance while people gathered around them, fighting to get a good glimpse of Sunchaser in the light. Once they’d assured themselves that he was alive, they stared at Kestrel with curiosity. She met each gaze with a bland expression.

Balsam raced out of the lodge carrying Sumac’s beaded ‘ Spirit Plants bag and a water bag. He shouldered through the crowd and placed them at his grandmother’s side. “Here, Grandmother.”

“Thank you, Balsam.” Sumac squinted at an old man who hovered over Sunchaser like a mother hen. “Dizzy Seal, bring a boiling bag and a tripod. We need to warm some water so we can wash his wounds.”

“Yes, Sumac.” The old man trotted away.

Sumac continued, “Oxbalm, where’s that hide you had over your shoulders earlier? Get it. Sunchaser is icy cold.”

Kestrel knelt by Sunchaser’s side and put a hand on his brow. Blessed Spirits, he did feel cold. Her stomach cramped. She could feel eyes upon her, evaluating the way she touched Sunchaser, speculating about it. She fought to keep her emotions hidden.

“Horseweed?” Kestrel asked as she looked up. “Could I have your knife, please?” He removed the finely knapped chert blade from his belt and handed it to her, antler handle first.



“Thank you.” She turned to Sumac, who knelt beside her. “I’m going to cut off Sunchaser’s shirt, so we can get a better look at his chest.”

Sumac nodded.

Kestrel steadied her hands by clenching them tightly into fists, then reached out, peeled the blood-clotted hide back and cut it away from Sunchaser’s arms. Firelight fluttered over the wounds ripped by huge teeth, and a chorus of gasps and moans went up. So many people spoke at once that Kestrel caught only fragments of conversation:

“Oh, no! Look at the gashes!”

“… only a bear…”

“Could have been a cat… dropped on him from a tree.”

Kestrel worked silently, aware that Lambkill watched her with hatred in his eyes. She couldn’t think about him. Not yet. Not until she’d satisfied herself that Sunchaser had truly escaped death.

While Kestrel finished sawing through the sleeves and gently peeling them back, revealing the bloody, bruised flesh beneath, Sumac took the boiling bag and tripod-from Dizzy Seal and dropped two hot stones into the water. It sizzled and spat, sending up a puff of steam. Next, she removed a small sack from her bag of Spirit Plants and unlaced it.

“What is that?” Kestrel asked.

“Crushed greasewood mixed with sea salt. Evil Spirits hate it because it tastes so bad. It keep wounds clean. Will you help me wash them down?” “Yes.”

Sumac removed two dry, shriveled sponges from her bag and threw both of them into the warm brew, where they swelled as they sucked up the water. Then she handed one of the dripping-wet sponges to Kestrel, who held it over Sunchaser’s chest and squeezed it out, making sure that the liquid pooled around the clotted blood. Sumac moved the tripod in between them, and Kestrel dipped her sponge again to soak Sunchaser’s right arm, which was very badly