People of the Sea(204)
He jerked his head around when he glimpsed a huge amorphous shadow moving silently along the face of the cliff, as if camouflaging itself in the lingering echoes of night. He stared hard. Imagination! There’s nothing there! It’s just the changing light through the tree limbs…
But he let out a shrill yip when the creature rose on its hind legs and swaggered toward him like a man, growling hideously. Its sheer size struck terror into his heart, but when the subdued dawn-gleam reflected stunningly from Bear’s extended claws, Catchstraw froze, his heart thundering. A moment later, Catchstraw shot up the trail, his legs pumping in panic and his tongue dangling from the side of his muzzle. The flat path wove through the forest until it blended with another trail and led him up a narrow ledge to the crest of the cliff—a dead end.
Mother Ocean spread below in a vast chaos of shifting motion. Sunlight had gilded her face with an amber hue. Far out, a school of dolphins bucked the waves, their fins glittering as if set afire by Father Sun’s presence.
Secreting himself behind an enormous redwood, Catch straw cautiously slid his muzzle around the curve of the fragrant bark to study his back trail
Seven sea gulls joined the flock of ravens and winged up the slope to squawk and squeal as they circled him.
Catchstraw barked and leaped around madly, cursing his feathered accusers for their betrayal. But his frenzy died in a stillborn howl when he spotted his pursuer loping along.
Great Lightning, the bear was huge! Three times his own size. A prickle crept through him that left his wounded muscles shuddering.
He darted through the redwoods like the hunted animal he was, and, with every step he took, the Singing grew louder. The gulls and ravens swooped low to fly beside him, echoing the crystalline notes. He felt as if he’d been captured in a net of tinkling shell bells. The weave tightened around him until he panted for breath.
He took another trail, this one looping eastward, its narrow sides bordered by thick brush. Here the trail doubled back and led him into a series of switchbacks that climbed the steep side of a hill—only to culminate in another dead end, this one bounded on three sides by sheer rock walls.
The Singing grew to a deafening roar.
Catchstraw whirled on his back legs, despite the pain in his wounded haunch. Desperately, he raced back the way he had come, searching, ducking to the right as a gap appeared and charging frantically forward on the new trail.
Was this trail the one that would save him? It, too, doubled back, taking turns, leading him around in a curious circle.
Catchstraw fought to still his soul by Singing a Song of his own … but the melody only fused with the birds’ Song. He went silent when he began choking on that grand music.
What’s happening to me? Blessed Spirits, has my witching lost its potency? How could that be? Who could compete with me? No one has my Power!
He sprinted across a wildflower-filled meadow and angled down a dew-slick trail lined with overarching dogwoods. Most of the blossoms had fallen away, but a few bruised petals clung stubbornly to the tips of the highest branches. Catchstraw’s paws were soaking and cold in less than a heartbeat. This time he knew he’d found the right trail. This one would lead him beyond the reach of that hideous
short-faced bear! A faint roaring grew louder, covering the lilting melody of the Song. Victory lay just around this last bend in the … Catchstraw stepped out onto a spit of sand that lanced into the middle of a pool of water. The soft roaring came from the waterfall that tumbled down the black rock in white, churning cascades. The water danced and dashed, changing its roar into the rhythmic cadence of the Song.
Catchstraw’s heart ached as he pounded blindly back the way he’d come, searching for the meadow, seeking to find his way through the twists and turns of the trail. It couldn’t be this far! He stopped, his thoughts gone thick with panic.
He bolted through a hole in the vegetation and found himself on yet another trail. Now he ran with horrified desperation. He had to get out. Escape! Find Mother Ocean again, and regain his bearings!
As he ran over the swell of a hill, he saw a mammoth cow and calf ahead. They stood blocking the trail. When the cow saw him, she lifted her trunk and released a trumpet blast that shook the ground. The vibration tingled through his quivering legs. The cow then lowered her trunk, poised her short tusks and charged him.
Catchstraw stumbled sideways before he caught his balance and darted into the thickest of the underbrush. The mammoth and her calf pursued, thrashing through the shrubbery after him, trumpeting and whining in fury.
He evaded them somehow, floundered out and scrambled up a deer trail like a clubbed fawn, despair firing his veins. Exhaustion sapped his wolfish muscles, but he staggered onward, hope blunted to the point that he stopped numbly as this trail, too, ended abruptly in a cleft in the rocks. Red sandstone walls towered above him, cloaked in blood-colored shadows.