Star Hunter nodded and hung her head between her knees, breathing in swift shallow gasps. A branch broke in the fire, throwing a wavering carnelian veil over the room.
Sweetwater rose to her feet and stood over Night Sun, peering down hatefully. “Why aren’t you tending to the Healing of your own family? You’re supposed to be the great Healer of Talon Town. Go home! Stop wasting time on a worthless slave baby!”
Night Sun spent part of every day Healing the people in Talon Town, but she truly needed the time away. “Other people need me, too, Sweetwater.”
Sweetwater’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “You would abandon your own family to Heal slaves?”
“What?” Night Sun said in confusion. “My own family?”
Sweetwater blinked. “You don’t know? A Trader came by yesterday morning, from Talon Town. He told us Chief Crow Beard was very ill. He said that Sternlight told him the Blessed Sun might by dying.”
Speechless, Night Sun could only stare. Crow Beard had been ill often in the past sun cycle, but—
Cloud Playing rose. Her blue dress shone purple in the gleam. “When did my father fall ill? We have only been gone for three days. He was fine when we left!”
“Do not shout at me, girl!” Sweetwater retorted. “That’s all the Trader said. I know no more.”
“Mother? Could this be?” Cloud Playing whispered, her eyes frantic. “Do you think Father needs us?”
Night Sun’s pulse quickened. Despite all the things Crow Beard had done to her over the years, she still cared for him, but he hadn’t let her touch him in summers. He shunned her cures, refused her his bed, tormented her at every opportunity. Still … she had been his wife for thirty summers. How will I survive without him?
“Yes,” Night Sun said softly. “He needs us. But I cannot leave until Star Hunter and her baby are safe. Then we will go—”
“The baby’s coming!” Star Hunter cried. She grabbed Night Sun’s arm, struggling to get into position.
“Cloud Playing!” Night Sun said sharply. “Help me hold her up!”
Cloud Playing lunged to grab Star Hunter’s left arm.
Star Hunter’s whole body shook and her moans became helpless cries. She twisted to one side, then to the other, and rocked back and forth, tears trickling down her face. When she screamed, little Catbird put her hands over her ears, and shrieked, “Oh, Blessed Father Sun, don’t let my mother die! Please don’t let her die!”
“Sweetwater, for the sake of Our Mother Earth,” Night Sun called, “take Catbird outside and away from here!”
The old woman grudgingly hobbled across the floor, grabbed Catbird by the hand and dragged her outside. A slap sounded. Catbird’s wails grew shrill, like an animal with an arrow in its belly.
Star Hunter sagged back against her arm, gasping, “Please, make the baby come … please … please…”
Cloud Playing peered at Night Sun imploringly—did she, too, believe Night Sun could say a prayer and make the pain end? Cloud Playing’s children had come into the world in less than a hand of time and she’d been on her feet in two hands. Such agony must terrify her.
“Cloud Playing,” she said gently, “let us ease Star Hunter back to the sleeping mat. I must check the child.”
Star Hunter groaned when Night Sun reached inside, rolling back and forth on the mat, saying over and over, “Help me, Wolf. Help me, Wolf. Blessed thlatsinas…” Then she cried out and grabbed for Night Sun’s and Cloud Playing’s arms, hauling herself forward.
“Good, Star Hunter,” Night Sun said, watching the fluids that leaked from her womb. “The child is coming. I can see its bottom. It’s coming out first. Cloud Playing, help me to lift her higher.”
Star Hunter half-stood, legs spread and trembling, her whole weight supported by Night Sun and Cloud Playing. Like a boat riding waves, Star Hunter bobbed up and down, sobbing, clawing at Night Sun’s arm.
The baby boy slid out onto the soft blankets in a pool of blood.
Night Sun said, “You have a son, Star Hunter. You were right.” Night Sun examined the wet, blood-streaked infant and her heart went cold. “He’s … he’s very beautiful.”
Star Hunter laughed and cried as they lowered her to the mats, and Night Sun reached for her pack. She pulled out a sharp obsidian flake, severed the baby’s cord, and knotted it.
“Let me see him!” Star Hunter panted. “I—I want to look at him.”
“Just one moment,” Night Sun said. “Mite, hand me those pieces of damp cloth.”
“Yes,” she said and pulled them from the stick where they had been cooling.