The pool wavered, as if pushed by a breeze, but Wind Baby could not penetrate so deep. Buckthorn’s eyes narrowed. He glanced up at the drip; it continued its rhythmic fall into the water: plop, plop, plop. Not the cause. The pool began to whirl and rock. Water washed over the walls of the cave.
Buckthorn stretched out on his belly and rested his chin on his paws to watch.
Someone shouted, an agonized cry. Then a scream, a thin wavering thread of sound, made him leap to his feet and scramble, slipping and sliding, up the wet corridor as fast as his paws would take him.
Just as he reached the barberry thicket, sharp pain lanced Buckthorn’s belly, white hot, like a war lance. He let out a ragged yip, and fell back, sliding on his side down the incline until he struck the wall and spun to a halt. Water soaked his fur. He lay panting, his gaze seeking his attacker.
Thunder roared through the cave, but from the depths he made out voices, hundreds, no thousands, of shouting, screaming people. Then … he saw them. They oozed from the very walls. The cave filled with running people and slamming fists. Like an enraged swarm of bees, they crowded up to kick him, beating him with war clubs, yelling in an unknown tongue. Buckthorn huddled into a ball and yipped desperately, praying his father would come and …
A tall beautiful woman stepped from inside the turquoise cave and the enraged people faded as though they had never been. He could just make out her face, with its turned-up nose. Waist-length black hair draped her shoulders. She wore a magnificent scarlet dress, a shade he had never seen, iridescent like sunrise. A little Power bundle hung from her belt, and a turquoise pendant from a cord around her neck.
“Who are you?” Buckthorn called. “What do you wish from me? Did you make the vision go away?”
“I make visions come and go.” Her deep voice sent chills up his spine. She walked closer, almost too graceful to be human, and peered into his eyes, as if searching his soul. “You are Coyote Clan. Why are you here?”
Breath shuddering, he answered, “M-my father … he brought me.”
She knelt down, so close that Buckthorn could feel the warmth of her body. Locks of her long hair brushed his fur. He gazed into the woman’s huge coal-black eyes with the shock of a lizard who suddenly feels the wind of a swooping hawk. He couldn’t move.
The woman studied his body in minute detail. She touched each of his paws and ran her fingers down his furry back. When she examined his pointed ears, her hand moved with such aching tenderness that it set Buckthorn’s heart to pounding.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“B-Buckthorn.”
She rose to her feet and stood like a slender pillar of scarlet flame. “Buckthorn of the Coyote Clan. Who is your father?”
“I—I don’t know … really.” With his muzzle he gestured to the moonlit cave entry. “Shall I call to him? He is in the meadow—”
“He was very bold to bring you here. Tell him I said so.” Her stare bored into his face. “I usually kill curiosity seekers.”
“Kill?” Buckthorn asked breathlessly. “Why? Who are you?”
“I am the Keeper of the sacred Tortoise Bundle. My clan is … was … the Hollow Hoof Clan.”
Buckthorn rose on trembling legs. “Was? Your clan is dead?”
“Dead and gone. Its heart, the Bundle, was stolen twenty-two summers ago. The people lost faith, they married into other clans. They drifted apart. I am all that is left of the noble Hollow Hoof.”
Sorrow animated her words. She peered back into the turquoise cave, slate gray now, as still and silent as a tomb. Her gaze fixed on the pool, and her brows slanted down. Perhaps she saw something there that he did not. Something that held her unwavering attention. The corners of her mouth twitched.
For a long while she did not speak. Then, very softly, she said, “Ah, I understand.” She nodded. “I see now why he brought you here. He really believed I’d kill you. Hmm. For that reason, I think I’ll grant you some advice. Study the ways of the coyotes, Buckthorn. They are quick and smarter than humans believe. They watch from a distance, in silence, until they know it is time to move. Always be smarter than people think. Never take action before you are certain of your goal.”
Shadows filled the hollows of her eyes, turning them into huge black wells. “In the coming moons, there are many who will seek to cage you. You will have to be very quick and very smart, or…” A grim smile curled her lips. “Or the next time you return here, Buckthorn of the Coyote Clan, your world will be dying all around you. Be prepared to make an offering. Do you understand?”