People of the Silence(29)

Beargrass had not even hesitated. The bargain struck, he and Thistle had taken the child and come here, to the northern frontier where Thistle had Ant Clan relatives. She had told people the babies were twins and struggled to suckle both. When her milk ran out, she’d found another woman to nurse Fledgling.

Fledgling squinted his right eye suspiciously, then looked back and forth between Thistle and Beargrass, as if judging their faces. “Then what news did the runners bring, Father? I heard Matron Clover when she came to announce their arrival. She said it was urgent.”

Beargrass smoothed tangled hair away from Fledgling’s face. “Always so many questions, my son. Well, the most important news was that the barbaric Tower Builders raided Turtle Village again. They took several women, burned a few houses. Turtle Village has promised revenge. The runners wanted to warn us that our village sits right in the middle of the squabble.”

“But why did they wish to speak with you and mother, Father?” Fledgling turned to Thistle.

“Because,” she answered, thinking quickly, “I am a master mason, my son. If we decide to buttress Lanceleaf Village’s defenses, I will design and build the new walls.”

His face fell in disappointment. “That was all?”

Beargrass shrugged and smiled. “I told you it was nothing. Now, I think it’s time you dreamed your soul back to the afterworld, my son. There must be many Spirits there who want to run and hunt with you.”

Through a wide yawn, Fledgling said, “Ruddy Boy and I were in the middle of killing Fire Dog warriors. He needs my help more than he’ll admit.”

Ruddy Boy had died from a broken arm three summers ago He’d been Fledgling’s best friend—and still was, it seemed.

“Sleep, son.” Beargrass pulled the blankets up over Fledgling’s chest and he closed his eyes. “Tell Ruddy Boy I miss him.”

“I will, Father.”

Beargrass waited until Fledgling’s breath grew deep before returning to the fire to sit at Thistle’s side. They stared at each other. Beargrass gently ran his fingers down the curve of her jaw. “I am very tired,” he whispered. “Let us speak no more of this tonight.”

Thistle breathed the question: “Did the runners ask you to be a warrior for the Blessed Sun again?”

Beargrass’ mouth tightened. “No, not … not precisely. Wraps-His-Tail said that War Chief Ironwood wished me to know that hostility was increasing between the clans and their allied villages. Ironwood asked if I would be willing to return as his deputy if warfare broke out.”

“And what did you answer?”

Beargrass hesitated. “You mustn’t be upset—”

“You told him ‘yes!’”

“I said I would do whatever the Blessed Sun wished, and I put it that way for a reason. While Ironwood may want me to return to Talon Town, I do not believe Chief Crow Beard does.”

Thistle clenched her fists. “And you think that the War Chief will understand this? That you do not really wish to return and will only out of loyalty to Crow Beard?”

Beargrass nodded. “I do. Despite what you think, my wife, Ironwood is a man of honor.”

Thistle studied her hands. In all the summers they had known each other, she had never criticized men he respected—even if she knew far more about them than he did. “Go to bed, my husband. You may need the rest more than either of us knows.”

“Are you angry?”

“No. No, just … weary.” She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Please come to bed with me. You must be as exhausted as I am.”

“Soon. I promise. I want to think for a time longer.”

He stroked her back. “As you wish.”

He pulled his long shirt over his head and draped it on the pot at the foot of the sleeping mats. The hard muscles of his naked body gleamed. “You must not worry. Not yet. Wait until we know for certain if Crow Beard—”

“I’ll try, my husband. I love you. Rest now. I’ll be there before you realize it,”

He stretched out on his back on the bedding. “I hope so. I don’t sleep well without you close.” Pulling up the cotton blanket woven with strips of rabbit fur, he slipped an arm beneath his head and closed his eyes.

Thistle turned away. The fire had burned down to a bed of glimmering coals ringed by white ash. The house seemed to breathe and sway in the crimson radiance, like an amorphous Spirit animal going about its nightly duties, oblivious to the petty lives of humans. She pulled a piece of juniper from the woodpile and laid it on the coals. Flames spluttered, sending wisps of blue smoke upward.