“Yes. I will do that.”
She pointed to a beautiful leather bag, its sides glittering with dentalium and olivella shells. “Take that, Sunchaser, for your efforts.”
He gave her a weary smile. “It’s very beautiful, Standing Moon. I appreciate the generosity of your family and clan for offering it to me. For the time being, I have enough things to meet my requirements. Give it to someone who needs it. Give it in my name. The pouch’s beauty will Heal someone’s grief.” He picked up his pack and started to leave, but Standing Moon gripped his sleeve tightly. “Sunchaser? Will you come back tomorrow? To Sing for my little son? He’s so young.
I—”
“I’ll try, Standing Moon. But there are many others sick in the village. Sicker than your son…. You understand, don’t you?”
She nodded, but grief glittered in her eyes. “Yes. I… I understand.” In a bare whisper, she added, “Thank you, Sunchaser.”
She gazed up at him as though she thought he could call the Star People from the sky.
He patted her arm. “I want you to do something for me. Will you, Standing Moon?”
“What is it?”
“You’ve been washing, cooking and tending the sick for half a moon. You look like you’re about to fall down every time you take a step. If I send Good Plume in to watch over your family, will you try to sleep for a few hands of time? This sickness searches for the weak and the tired. We need you to stay strong.”
Her chin trembled and tears traced lines down her cheeks. “Yes. Thank you again, Sunchaser.”
He stepped over a tumbled pile of hides that had slipped from the bench to the floor, then ducked outside. Sunlight struck his eyes painfully. He paused in the shadow of the lodge to take a deep breath of the fresh air. Good Plume stood where he’d left her, leaning on her walking stick. The vines that curled up the tree trunks and hung like ropes from the branches had begun to sprout leaves. Against that new green background, Good Plume looked brown and withered. She watched him through narrowed eyes.
He crossed the plaza with his pack clutched to his chest. “You wanted to speak to me, Aunt.”
Good Plume nodded once, but said nothing.
He waited for a moment, then said, “I told Standing Moon that you would come to watch over her family while she slept. Is that all right?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He shifted uncomfortably. “About this sickness, this lingering evil. It’s in the very—”
Good Plume banged her walking stick on the ground four times and cocked her head in a birdlike fashion. “Do you know,” she said, “that there is a tribe of invisible people? They’ve been in this world since before Wolfdreamer was
born. They move around humans like shadows. Oh, they have bodies like ours, and they use the same tools we do, but they’re not human. Where we’re always laboring to see the world, they labor not to see it—but to feel it. They become visible only when they die.”
“I’ve never heard that story before. And I don’t understand it. What does it mean?”
Good Plume pointed a crooked finger at him. “Once, a long time ago, a human woman married one of the invisible men. He was a good husband. He loved her very much, went hunting every day, and they spent long hours laughing together at night. But this woman, she could not stand the thought that she didn’t know what her husband looked like. So one day. when he went to sleep, she felt for his chest, took her atlatl and drove a dart into his lungs. She got to see him all right. A handsome young man appeared. She realized too late what she had done and sobbed her heart out. In desperation, she called out to Mother Ocean for help. The Mother killed the woman. Then the Mother took her soul and tied it to the dead man’s soul before she brought the woman to life again. So, you see, to this day, human souls are part male and part female. But the other half becomes visible only at death.” Good Plume poked her knobby finger into Sunchaser’s chest. “How many people have died in this village?”
“Six today. I… I don’t know how many in the past two weeks.”
“All women today, yes?”
“Yes.”
Good Plume’s wrinkled lips pursed. “I knew it. I’ve seen strange men wandering around all afternoon. They’re lost without their female halves. Soon you must come with me and we’ll Sing them to the Land of the Dead. Only you and I can do it. Nobody else has the Power.”
Sunchaser nodded, a little lost himself. The older Good Plume became, the more difficult it was to fathom her strange stories. “What would happen, my aunt, if we didn’t Sing for them?”