People of the Thunder(155)

“By Breath Maker, it’s beautiful!” Smoke Shield whispered as he bent down, running his fingers over the copper. “It’s just as she said.”

“Where is the Contrary?” Green Snake asked.

“By the river, waiting.” Smoke Shield gestured off toward the canoe landing, only vaguely aware of the chiefs who had come to crowd around. “. . . For this.”

“That is your life, Brother. What’s it worth? Heron Wing?”

“Take her!”

“The murder of the Yuchi messenger?”

“What does it matter? He was just a Yuchi.”

“He was under the protection of the white arrow!”

“My Power is red, you fool! And with this, it’s complete!” Smoke Shield bent, lifting the heavy piece. “You said it’s mine to give?”

Green Snake nodded, his heart beginning to pound. “I offered it for your life.”

“With this, I shall become greater than the lords of Cahokia!” Smoke Shield turned and bolted for the door. Lowering his shoulders, he knocked Blood Skull and Seven Dead out of the way. In a flash, he was outside.

“Smoke Shield, wait!” Flying Hawk called hoarsely. Tears had filled the old man’s eyes, streaking down his cheeks. “Take that, and you condemn both of us!”

“That was offered to us!” Wooden Cougar stepped forward, his fist shaking in threat.

Old White leaned close. “Trader, we’d best follow. If the Contrary’s in the middle of this, she may need us.”



The surface of the river looked glassy and smooth in the morning light. It reflected a golden sheen as sunlight sent fingers down into the water. Two Petals sat in the bow of the small dugout she’d chosen. Dragging it down to the shore had been a trial, but she’d managed. Now she waited, her back cupped in the concave hollow where the bow had been scooped out. She ignored the curious stares of the Traders where they sat by their ramadas. The women who walked down to dip ceramic and gourd jars into the water shot curious glances her way. Two fishermen were carefully stowing their trotline, ensuring that the bone hooks, rope, and wooden floats didn’t tangle.

She closed her eyes, drawing in the scents of the landing. Time was slowing around her. As it did, her heart beat with relief.

Then—ever so faintly—she heard the first faint strains of Singing. It rose from the water around her. She smiled at the growing strength of the Song. “My husband comes.”

A voice near her said, “He will make you a good match.”

She opened her eyes to see Deer Man. He stood with his hoofed feet merged in the wood of a nearby canoe. Sunlight glistened on the antlers growing out of his head. A smile lit his face, and he had thrown back his deer-hide cape. “I want to thank you for your help coming to this place,” she said.

“I shall visit you,” Deer Man promised.

“My husband and I will welcome you. Together, we shall Sing and Dance.”

Some of the nearer women backed away, staring at the empty canoe where Deer Man stood on his thin legs.

The Song was growing louder now, rising and falling. Deer Man began Dancing, his body weaving with the melody. Two Petals sighed, a thrill shooting through her body. She could feel time beginning to drift away, slowing. It was as if she could see the self of her past merging with that of her coming present: two shadowy images slowly slipping into one.

Overhead, a marvelous crow spiraled out of the sun’s light. Brilliant colors of red, blue, yellow, green, and violet reflected from his iridescent feathers. She watched the bird soar in ever-decreasing circles. “Have you come to watch as well?”

“It isn’t every day that a marriage such as this takes place,” Many Colored Crow cried with a laugh.

The women, she noticed, hurried away with their water jars, casting worried glances over their shoulders. The fishermen had stopped, staring wide-eyed. They tossed the rest of their trotline and bait into the canoe and pushed off. Paddles flashed in the sunlight as they left. Within moments, the shoreline was empty.

“They don’t understand,” she told Many Colored Crow.

Whippoorwill walked down the slope past the Traders. They didn’t see the great black Spirit wolf that walked by her side, his yellow eyes gleaming. Two Petals smiled as Whippoorwill came to a stop behind the canoe. The Albaamo woman wore a plain white dress, her dark eyes meeting Two Petals’. Her fingers traced patterns over the wolf’s back. “Once again, we cross in time, Sister.”

Two Petals said, “My friends will need your counsel in the coming years.”

“I will Dance for you . . . always,” Whippoorwill said through the Dream.