People of the Sea(23)
Catchstraw gave him a sideways glance. “What’s funny?”
“The very idea of it. You don’t act like a Dreamer, Catchstraw. Power, Dreaming—they leave tracks on a man
the way a deer leaves tracks on a damp forest trail. And I can’t see you with saber-toothed Power, or lion Power. No, yours would be badger Power, very loud and vicious-sounding, but if your victim didn’t bolt at the noise, you’d stop halfway and run back for your hole.” Oxbalm laughed again. “Yes, badger! That’s what your Power would be!”
Catchstraw grumbled something.
“What did you say?” Oxbalm asked.
“I said that nobody should be laughing out here!” Catchstraw threw his weight into the slicing off of a strip of rib meat and irreverently tossed it down near Sumac. “This is a very solemn occasion.”
“Yes.” Oxbalm nodded agreeably. “We are all worried about the meaning of the drownings, but this is also a wonderful time. We’ll have new lodges from the hides and more meat than we can eat. Listen to the people. They sound so happy.”
“Yes, they do. You ought to be out there telling them to be quiet. They’ve probably already offended the Spirits of the mammoths. But then, you don’t mind offending anything, do you? Not even Power.”
Oxbalm sliced through the last bit of ligament holding this strip of meat to the rib and eased the heavy slab down to the floor. He patted the meat gently and silently thanked the cow for feeding his family.
He had never liked Catchstraw, and now even less than before. Mostly, he disliked the cool distance of the Dreamer’s manner, but the surly tone didn’t help matters. When Oxbalm straightened up, he said, “We did not hunt these mammoths, Catchstraw. They gave themselves to us. I don’t know why, but we certainly can’t spurn their gift by leaving them to rot on the shore. And accepting their gift makes people happy.”
Catchstraw grunted. Then he said, “Don’t blame me for what’s going to happen. I’ve been spending every spare moment in the sweat lodge, purifying myself and praying.”
“Good. I’m glad. Some of us need more of that than others—”
“What does that mean?” Catchstraw’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“I wish Sunchaser were here, that’s what. He could tell us what this means.” The wish was futile, Oxbalm knew. If Horseweed and Balsam had needed to go all the way to Brushnut Village to find Sunchaser they wouldn’t be home for another week at the earliest. Oxbalm had just been hoping they had met Sunchaser on the trail somewhere close by. Clearly, that had not happened.
“Meaning I can’t?” Catchstraw asked indignantly. “Haven’t I been doing a good job leading the Mammoth Spirit Dance?”
“Yes. You have.”
“But not good enough? Is that it? That’s why you decided to postpone the latest Mammoth Spirit Dance for a week, isn’t it? Hoping that Sunchaser would arrive to lead it.”
“It’s not meant to shame you, Catchstraw. Sunchaser is the founder of the Dance. He is the one that Wolfdreamer revealed the Dance to. And now,” Oxbalm said diplomatically, “I’d better go check on the fat rendering. I promised Fernleaf I’d be by long ago.” He turned, smoothed his hand over Sumac’s gray head and stepped out of the mammoth carcass onto the sand. Sumac gave him a knowing look and sighed softly. She had managed to slice up one of the melon-shaped kidneys.
Little Mountain Lake crawled to her feet and yelled, “Grandfather, can I come? Sometimes Fernleaf gives me a piece of fried fat.”
“Sure. Come on. Maybe she’ll give us both a piece.”
“Will you tell me a story while we eat them?”
“Of course.” He smiled.
Mountain Lake awkwardly climbed over the upward curve of the rib cage, jumped down and ran to hug Oxbalm around the leg. Such a pretty child. Her blooded face glowed with childish delight.
“Oxbalm?” Catchstraw called. “Are you really leaving? Before we’ve finished our discussion?”
“It is finished, Catchstraw.”
Oxbalm held Mountain Lake’s sticky hand as they started down the beach for the bonfire where Fernleaf and several other women knelt, chopping sun-dried meat and melting fat in soapstone bowls. Waves crashed nearby and water flooded toward them; kelp and small creatures washed onto the shore. A hermit crab scrambled to dig a hole before anything bigger than himself saw him. As they walked, Mountain Lake collected whole horn shells and purple fragments of mussel shells. She kept all of them in her left hand, where their edges poked out between her small fingers.