People of the Thunder(143)

She resettled the bulky pack on her back. The hardest part had been slipping the Powerful box into several layers of blankets without touching the wood and polluting it. Then she had managed to stuff the entire thing into a large burden basket. Even so, her heart pounded, fully aware of the Power her people placed in such boxes. With it, her husband had taken Alligator Town.

And now I carry it. That notion awed and humbled her.

She could imagine Green Snake and the Seeker’s dismay when Heron Wing told them what she’d done.

I had no other choice, she told herself. The feeling of betrayal wouldn’t last. They would remember that she was a captive—that her husband and family had died on the squares. They would understand the ramifications of her need to return the war medicine to her people—how it would change the Power of Great Cougar’s raid. And as they did their anxiety would rise with each passing moment.

In her souls, she could see Heron Wing’s expression: disappointment and the sting of betrayal behind her eyes.

“How did I grow so close to her?” she wondered, thinking back to her mother’s dead body, the rising smoke as White Arrow Town burned, and how people screamed as they died. Her husband’s pleading eyes burned in her souls. She could almost feel his ghosts reaching out to her.

“You will all rest easier now,” she told the restless dead. “Morning Dew has set her feet on the path that will save her people.”

She trudged resolutely forward, imagining the look in Great Cougar’s eyes as he unwrapped the war medicine. She could already hear the awe in his warriors’ voices as they realized what she had brought them.

Assuming, of course, that she could find them. She glanced around at the endless maze of forest. This section was old, cavernous beneath a high canopy. The boles of the mighty black oaks and interspersed beeches were huge, the diameter of a dwelling.

Leaving Split Sky City hadn’t been so difficult. She’d taken a small canoe at the landing, paddling as far west as the river would take her, and then headed west as the last of the rain moved south. Oriented by the first of the constellations, she’d made her way in the direction she expected to find Great Cougar. He would be coming in a direct line, seeking to do with speed what stealth could not.

But knowing he was here, somewhere, in the dense forest was one thing. Finding him would be another. His warriors would be filing along in a long line, not a wide front. And even with a screen of scouts, what were her chances of crossing their path?

She ground her teeth, staring about as she hurried along. He had to be out here somewhere.

Trust me. The words lay like stale cornmeal on her tongue.

“What if I miss them? What if I finally reach the divide?”

“You won’t,” a Chahta voice said.

She turned as a warrior stepped out from behind one of the huge trunks. The man smiled grimly. “My apologies, Chikosi, but it appears that you will be spending the rest of your life in a Chahta town.”

She grinned. “That, warrior, is my greatest hope. Do not let my Chikosi dress fool you. I am Morning Dew, daughter of Sweet Smoke, and matron of the White Arrow Moiety. You must take me to Great Cougar immediately. There is no time to lose. I have much to tell him.” Her smile hardened. “And it won’t be pleasant for either of us.”

I’m sorry, Heron Wing, but my final betrayal will wound you to the quick.



The last light of day had dimmed to a feeble glow in the west as Trader, Old White, and Swimmer climbed the wooden stairs to the Hopaye’s palace atop the Panther Clan mound. At the palisade gate they were met by a young man in a white hunting shirt and allowed to proceed.

Inside they passed the panther guardian posts, and each touched his forehead as they walked toward the doorway.

“It is Old White and Green Snake,” Trader called cautiously.

“Enter,” Pale Cat called from within.

They stepped into an ornately furnished room with animal totems, boxes, and wall hangings. Trader took a moment, marveling at the carved wooden posts along the benches, each done in the form of a Spirit totem. A fire burned in the central hearth; the altar behind it had been decorated with hides, feathers, and wooden statuary.

Then he turned his attention to the people. Pale Cat sat just behind the fire, wearing a white smock. He had his hair pulled back, a copper panther rising above the bun behind his head. Copper ear spools gleamed in the light.

Beside him sat a diminutive old woman, her hair white and pulled back. She wore a blue dress decorated with pearls, mica beads, and quillwork embroidery of a panther on the breast. Beside her sat a muscular warrior, his face tattooed with forked-eye designs. The man wore a breechcloth, and a raccoon-hide cape hung from his shoulders. His eyes gleamed like obsidian in the firelight. At sight of Trader, his gaze sharpened.