Taya cried, “The Thunderers are getting closer! We should run for cover!”
He didn’t hear her, or he was ignoring her, which she suspected he often did. Rain drenched his upturned face and ratty war shirt.
“You fool! You’re going to get blasted by lightning!” Then how will I make it home?
When he still didn’t answer, she ran for the riverbank, slipping and sliding her way down to the bottom. This seemed to be a canoe landing, for almost no brush grew here. She could just peer at Sky Messenger over the lip of the drainage. He was spinning like a mad fool.
Suddenly, as though Elder Brother Sun had waited for this exact moment, a brilliant lance of sunlight shot through the clouds and cleaved a bright path through the leaves at Sky Messenger’s feet. It resembled a pointing finger. He stopped spinning, and his gaze traced the light as it moved westward across the forest; then he wiped the rain from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Just as he turned toward her, lightning split the morning and the blaze turned his body into a pillar of pure white.
Sky Messenger lifted the skull splinter up to the shower again. Only after it had been washed clean did he tuck it into the red Power bundle that hung from his belt. For more than one hundred heartbeats, he stood with his eyes closed, letting the rain drench his upturned face. Finally, he turned and plodded toward her.
She scrambled up the bank and trotted to meet him. “Are we finished here? Can we go?”
He turned to look at the small clearing surrounded by bladdernut trees. He seemed to be watching something move. “No, not yet.”
“Why did you keep that blackened piece of skull?”
He put his hand on the red Power bundle, and his bushy brows drew together. “I’m collecting wounds.”
What does that mean? “And now that you have it, why do we have to stay here?”
He turned to gaze back at the edge of the forest. “A … a threshold.”
He walked away, following the path illuminated earlier by Elder Brother Sun.
She miserably glowered at the rain that drifted around his tall body like smoke-colored veils of silk. In the distance, towering hickories swayed through the gray haze.
He kept walking, his gaze focused on the small clearing as though his life depended upon it.
She trudged through the thick leaves after him.
He stopped at the edge of the bladdernut trees and stared out into the deep forest shadows. His gaze focused on something she could not see. She, again, had the feeling he was talking to a ghost that stood barely a hand’s breadth away.
As though answering a question, Sky Messenger whispered, “I can’t welcome the serpent’s poison as it pours into my ears. I …” As though listening, he paused before finishing, “Well, suffering certainly feels evil.”
Taya glanced around the forest with her heart skipping. She saw nothing but autumn trees and dead grass. Here and there deadfall created dark heaps in the depths of the forest. He was talking with something!
Sky Messenger heaved a breath and bowed his head. “I don’t understand. If the way through is right here, why don’t I see it?” Another pause. He shook his head. “I do not have my hands over my eyes.”
“Who are you talking to? Tell me!”
Sky Messenger turned and at first didn’t seem to see her; then he blinked, and his eyes cleared. “Do you … ? Taya, do you think there is a child inside you who forever keeps his hands clapped over his eyes?”
His expression was pleading. She tried to piece together the fragments of conversation she’d been listening to for over one hand of time. “I think that’s gibberish. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
But she wondered … If the child removed its hands would it see the way through?
Sky Messenger suddenly went rigid, staring into the forest shadows as though a monster had just appeared. After a time, he turned to Taya and softly said, “I have to go in there. But you can remain out here, if you wish.”
“I’m not staying here alone! There are ghosts everywhere!”
He balled his fists and swallowed hard. She followed him into the cold morning shadows. Twigs snapped beneath her feet, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He’d taken only ten steps before he faltered. His brows drew together. “This is the place.”
“What place?”
He moved around as though his feet were weighted with rocks. Gitchi padded at his heels, but his yellow eyes had narrowed, and his ears lay flat against his skull. Sky Messenger placed a hand against an enormous pine and searched the snow-tipped needles. After several moments, he said, “This is where it happened,” and looked up at the sky. “The tree branches are different. I was looking up at them … part of the time.”