People of the Weeping Eye(186)

That long? Her heart sank. “If you are being honest with me, by Breath Giver, yes! Think, Heron Wing. How long do you suppose I’d have remained alive if you hadn’t placed that insane bet against Smoke Shield? Putting that in perspective, I imagine I can tote water, cook food, wash clothes, and keep your house.” She paused. “And another thing. My moon is starting.”

Heron Wing sighed. “Well, at least Smoke Shield didn’t plant an heir to your Chief Clan. I’m not sure they’d want his bloodline.”

Morning Dew shot her an appreciative glance. “I have to tell you, I’m late. For a while I hoped my husband had caught, then I feared Smoke Shield might have. I think one was early, the other late. The worry and fear probably didn’t help matters.”

“I’m close as well.” She glanced up from her cooking shell. “You belong to Panther Clan now. You will be welcome in our Women’s House. Pale Cat will be delighted to have us both gone. He has time to spend with Stone now that the solstice ceremonies have passed. And it is good for my son to spend time with so good an uncle.”

Morning Dew nodded, wondering at the changes in her life, at the things she had done. “No matter what, Heron Wing, I shall always be grateful to you. From you I have learned strength and wisdom. I will need all of those qualities when I return to the White Arrow.”

The woman smiled wistfully. “I told you, it might be a while.”

“Yes,” Morning Dew agreed, remembering her vain boasting so long ago in the Women’s House. That silly girl had died the day she had been taken from Screaming Falcon’s house. This new woman had been born in blood, rape, and suffering. She had survived Smoke Shield, and robbed him of his greatest triumph. In the process, she had paid a terrible price, one that even now she could barely allow herself to contemplate. “But I will return to my people. I just know it. And when I do, I shall be the greatest matron they have ever had.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Oh, yes.”

Home! The word rolled around inside her. But then, Heron Wing was right. It might be a long time getting there. She shot a sidelong glance at the woman. Going home would come at a cost, but how much would she have to pay?

Whatever I have to.





Paunch made a face as his stomach growled. The smell of roasting fish had the juices flowing in his mouth. He glanced up at the sky, wondering at the cold emptiness of it. Not even clouds floated across the blue dome where he could see it through the naked branches of the trees.

“I’m not cut out to be a thief,” he muttered, prodding the fire with a stick. Flames licked up around the rounded sides of the pot where it rested in the coals. Odors of cooking fish mingled with hickory smoke. “I thought my heart would leap out of my chest.”

Whippoorwill gave him a sidelong glance. “It took courage to rob that Chahta fish trap last night.”

“And I almost froze my balls off!” he groused. “That water was cold. And scary! Wading around in the river at night. What chance would an old man like me have against a water cougar, or, the gods forbid, Horned Serpent?”

“Horned Serpent isn’t interested in you,” Whippoorwill replied. “He bides his time. And be assured, he will receive his due when the time is right.”

“As if you knew what drives a creature as Powerful as Horned Serpent!” he shot back bitterly.

She gave him that eerie smile, her eyes seeming to expand in her head. “Can’t you hear him, Grandfather?”

“What? Hear Horned Serpent?”

“He’s Singing, even now. The notes so musical they carry up from the river, across the land. It reminds me of drops of rain falling through a rainbow mist.” She rose, walking over to the bluff to stare down at the Horned Serpent River.

Paunch muttered to himself, prodding his fire. How long did it take a fish to cook, anyway? Then he looked out at the forest. It waited, silent, and he swore he could feel it, somber, watching him. If he looked sharp, he knew he’d see eyes staring back from the shadows cast by the thick trunks. Patient Spirit beings lurked back among the hanging vines of grape and greenbriar.

“I say this fish is done.” He used sticks to lever the pot out of the flames. It would have to cool before he dared to dump the flaking white meat onto his bark plate.

Listening to his knees crack, he stood, wincing at the sudden pain in his back. “I’m too old to be sneaking about like a forest rat. When can we go home?”

“Home, Grandfather?” Whippoorwill laughed. “Are you ready to face Smoke Shield? Anxious to hang in a Chikosi square while they slice the flesh from your old bones? Are you so chilled that the thought of burning cane brands against your skin has grown attractive?”