People of the Sea(199)
Too terrifiea to let go, Kestrel kept pulling on the necklace. She scrambled onto her knees and threw all of her weight into keeping the cord tight where it puckered the skin of Lambkill’s neck.
Her body quaked so violently that she thought for a moment the Quaking Earth Spirits had risen from their underworld graves and decided to thrash the whole world in rage. Her sobs sounded like breathless screams.
A strange light shone in Bear’s eyes. He made a soft sound and eased forward to sniff at the bloody knife gash in her leg, then tilted his head in an almost tender gesture, as if silently asking if she was all right. Kestrel could only weep uncontrollably. Bear blinked and held her gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, he backed away and trotted into the trees with his square muzzle up, scenting the wind as though hunting.
“Kestrel?” a familiar-sounding voice called.
Hoarsely, she answered, “Horseweed! I’m over here!”
She saw him loping down the trail, his head moving cautiously as he scanned the shadows. He had a nocked atlatl lifted in his right hand. The stone tip of his dart glittered in the flashes of silver light. He broke into a run when he saw her. “Kestrel!”
Horseweed knelt beside her, and his young eyes tightened as he appraised Lambkill. Gently, he reached out and put a hand over Kestrel’s aching fists, still knotted in the necklace thong.
“You can let go now, Kestrel. He’s dead. Let go, Kestrel. Easy now. Please.”
“No, no! He might… still be alive. I… I can’t let go. Not yet. Just a little longer. I have to… hold on a little longer. For Cloud Girl’s sake. Sh-she’ll never be safe if he lives!”
Horseweed nodded sympathetically and lowered his eyes to examine the wounds in Lambkill’s legs where Bear had clawed deep gashes. Blood still ran in dark streams, soaking the pine duff.
Softly, Horseweed said, “Bear did a good job. Almost as though he knew. He sliced through the big arteries. Your husband would have bled to death even if you hadn’t strangled him, Kestrel.”
He turned back and gazed at her in a kindly way. His hand lay warmly on her skin as he patted her aching fingers. “Please. Let go now, Kestrel. He’s dead. I promise you. He’s gone. He’ll never hurt you or your baby again. Let go…. Let go now, Kestrel. You’ve done it It’s over.”
Blinded by the silver rush of tears, she couldn’t. Her cramped hands would not let go.
Forty-four
Kestrel trudged wearily up the eastern slope that led to Otter Clan Village. All of her strength went into the monotony of placing one foot ahead of the other. Tired, so thoroughly exhausted. Would she ever feel rested again? She glanced at Horseweed, who walked beside her, a grim look on his smooth face.
Despite the numbness of her battered body and soul, she wondered what he must think of her now. She was his relative and a murderer.
She could hear a man talking beside the fire on the crest of the hill. Someone was still up. But then, on a night like this, how many could sleep? Charges of murder, witchcraft and violence had flown like fall leaves in an early winter gale.
She glanced up. A diffuse membrane of clouds had slipped across the sky. Most of the Star People had vanished, but the clouds had spawned a majestic multicolored halo around Above-Old-Man’s face. The wind had calmed to a gentle breeze. On its breath, it bore the smell of rain and the haunting howls of wolves. Dew had formed a thick gloss on the spring grass, making the footing precarious.
Horseweed kept glancing sideways at the pack she carried cradled in her arms. The dead baby was so light, as though perhaps not lying on the bed of sage inside at all. But she could feel the boy there. Since she’d picked up the pack, a strange glow of warmth and contentment had been radiating through the soft leather. It grew stronger with each moment that passed. She’d never planned on being reunited with this tiny child that she’d given birth to. But gladness swelled her heart.
My poor son, you’ve gone through so much since that terrible day. Forgive me. Had I known, I’d never have left you there by the river, where Lambkill could find you.
Kestrel clutched the dead baby closer when she passed the place where Tannin had been killed. Tannin’s body was gone, but sadness still pervaded the area, clinging to the black-crimson stain of his blood as if his Spirit lingered, trying to figure out what had happened. How could he have been murdered by his own brother?
“Poor Tannin.”
Horseweed nodded. “My grandfather will have taken him into camp so the women can prepare him for burial tomorrow.”
“I’m grateful…. but I’ll prepare him. He was my brother in-law. He was very good to me, Horseweed, even at the last.” An ache thumped in her heart, remembering how he’d fought to stop Lambkill from hurting her.