People of the Sea(82)

learn to talk, his son was learning far more quickly. Even now, Lambkill could pick up faint murmurings. “Northwest. She went northwest, Father.”

Lambkill opened his eyes and tenderly tucked Little Coyote back into his pack. Then he lifted his arm and pointed. “There. That’s the direction she took.”

Harrier exchanged glances with his brothers. Their tension hung in the air.

“But,” Tannin objected, “Kestrel’s trail heads due west, Lambkill. Harrier tells me that there is a village only two days away—to the west. Maybe we should start there. Those people might have seen her.”

“That’s not where she’s headed!” Lambkill shouted. “I told you. Little Coyote says she’s going northwest! That’s the direction I’m going in. You can head west if you want to.”

The four brothers frowned and whispered to one another, while they examined Lambkill like a slab of maggot-ridden meat.

Lambkill angrily walked away. “Go on, Tannin! Take Buffalo Bird’s brothers and go. I’ll meet you there after I’ve found my wife.”

“No, Lambkill, wait!” Tannin yelled. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not going to leave you alone!”

He followed dutifully behind Lambkill as they entered the thick stand of trees. Deep green shadows enveloped them.

Harrier cupped a hand to his mouth and called, “We’ll come as soon as we’ve broken camp… and buried our brother.”

“He’s going to do it, Man. Today, for the first time, I felt the strength in him. He’s going to call me back to my body… all of me! Not just my fleshly soul. Lambkill wants all of me! Oh, Man, don’t let this happen!” Boy wept bitter tears. “Please, Man. I beg you. Save me.”



A silver glow suffused the black womb, and the Man said, “If you truly want to be saved, you must seek out this tribulation. Because if you run away from it, you will find the same tribulation waiting for you no matter which path you take.

“… You see that, don’t you, Boy? You’ve thought enough about these things to understand, haven’t you?”

The Boy did not answer.





Eighteen


Horseweed walked along the beach at Oxbalm’s side, his head down, studying the shells that had washed ashore—anything to avoid hearing the conversations echoing up and down the line behind them. People grumbled. Children cried. A dog barked at something it saw in the dense trees.

Over the past seven days, Horseweed had heard a bellyful of griping and complaints. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that they’d had to move their village, but people seemed to be blaming his grandfather.

Anger smoldered within him. Only an idiot could doubt Oxbalm’s dedication to his people.

He glanced sideways at his grandfather. The old man had braided his gray hair into a short plait that hung over the collar of his buckskin shirt. His lips were pursed tightly, his brow furrowed. It hurt Oxbalm to walk, and the pain showed clearly on his face. Every night around the fire, Sumac threw willow bark into a gut bag and boiled it down to a thick, milky fluid, which she made Oxbalm drink. The potion eased the agony in his knees, but Horseweed could tell that all the



walking was taking its toll on his grandfather. Oxbalm’s gait grew stiffer every day.

Horseweed tipped his head back and gazed upward. Magnificent mountains of cloud drifted by lazily, their edges glowing a pale gold in the sunlight. Brother Sky’s belly had been washed clean and bright. It gleamed like polished turquoise around the clouds. He inhaled a deep breath of the crisp air. He could smell the pines in it, but also the richness of damp earth, saltwater and seaweed.

Everyone was irritable. Oxbalm had barely spoken since they’d Sung Mountain Lake’s soul to the Land of the Dead. When he did speak, the words came out sharp, each sentence a command—or, just as likely, an insult.

Mountain Lake’s death had wounded Oxbalm deeply. Sometimes, late at night, his grandfather awoke calling Mountain Lake’s name, swearing that he’d heard her little steps. “I heard her, I tell you!”

Horseweed closed his eyes briefly and bit back the pain. The first night after the mammoth attack, he had curled up under his robes and buried his face in his sleeve. Feeling lost and sick, he’d longed to cry out his grief. But he couldn’t. Balsam had been sleeping next to him, and he’d heard his younger brother crying. He’d pulled Balsam close and held him through the night, patting him whenever his tears started again.

Since that time, eight days ago, a frightening wrongness had possessed the world, and nothing seemed to ease it. It wasn’t just Sunchaser’s leaving them after the attack, either. Horseweed felt strangely as if the Mother might rise up at any moment and drown them all in anger. Though he couldn’t imagine what the anger might be for.