When his grandmother, Jigonsaseh, journeyed to the afterlife, the matrons of the Bear Clan would almost certainly cast their voices to requicken Jigonsaseh’s soul in her daughter, Koracoo.
“We will all mourn the loss of your grandmother,” Taya said sincerely. “She is a great leader. Matron Jigonsaseh must have been distressed when you told her you were giving up your weapons for good, and—”
“I haven’t told her. The one time I got to speak with Grandmother … I had more pressing concerns. I needed her advice.”
He seemed to be concentrating on the twinkling campfires of the dead. Or perhaps he was assessing how much smoke from their fire was escaping through the treetops into the sky beyond.
“Her advice about what?”
“My … treason.”
“So this was before your clan heard your vision?” It must have been, since afterward they’d absolved him of the crime, but his expression appeared uncertain.
He pulled a horn spoon from his pack and bent over the cook pot, stirring it. The delicious smell of boiling squirrel wafted into the air. As the rising steam coated his tanned face, it seemed to flow into the lines at the corners of his eyes, making them appear deeper.
“It won’t be long now,” he said in a mild voice. “You must be starving. We’ve been canoeing hard, and we walked a long way today.”
He kept staring down into the pot, stirring it, and she tried to fathom what he could possibly be thinking. He looked like he wanted to tell her something, but had decided against it. And she had the feeling it was more than just his discussion with Jigonsaseh about his treason. He was hiding something. His gaze had that haunted look that was becoming so familiar. He was no longer here with her, but traveling some war trail in the past. Perhaps, with her.
“You’re dreaming about her again, aren’t you? Do you wish she was here, instead of me?”
He looked up. The moonlight sheathed his eyes with such strength she could see her own reflection. “She is here. They all are.” He touched his cape over his heart. “My friends never leave me.”
“I don’t understand what that means. I don’t see them here.”
His brows lifted, as though not surprised; then he drew wooden cups and another spoon from his pack. “Let’s eat so that we can get some rest.”
As he ladled soup into the cups, Gitchi watched him, perhaps hoping for the last dregs. Taya took the cup Sky Messenger handed her, and her gaze wandered as she blew on the hot stew to cool it. Just when she started to sip, she saw something in the branches overhead. Her cup halted halfway to her lips. “Did you see that?”
“Hmm? What?” he asked around a half-chewed a bite of squirrel.
An eerie chill prickled her spine. She went very still, as though her body sensed a predator nearby, even if her eyes didn’t see one. The moonlit sycamore limbs seemed unusually bright against the night sky. Faint tendrils of smoke threaded the canopy, but nothing seemed amiss. Gitchi, however, silently rose to his feet and stared at the same place in the canopy.
Sky Messenger instantly set his cup down and followed Gitchi’s gaze. His brow furrowed as he examined the trees. Barely above a whisper, he repeated, “What did you see, Taya?”
“Probably just one of Grandmother Moon’s tricks. A flicker of light, nothing more.”
That didn’t seem to soothe him. He stared at her fixedly, not blinking. “A flicker of light?”
“Well, yes.” A breath of wind swirled around the hole, and the flames leaped, casting a gaudy gleam over his concerned face. “It was nothing, Sky Messenger. Just eat. I’m sorry I said anything.” She took a drink of her squirrel soup, swallowing a chunk of squirrel whole, and forced a smile.
This time, he didn’t smile back. “What color was the light?”
“I don’t know, bluish, like a string of tarnished copper beads—”
In less than a heartbeat, he’d leaped to his feet and kicked dirt over the tiny blaze to smother it. Gitchi seemed to have turned to stone. Only his eyes moved as he watched Sky Messenger part the holly to stare out at the forest beyond.
Taya set her cup down, rose, and went to Sky Messenger’s side, whispering, “Did you hear something?”
He patted his lips with his hand, instructing her to be silent.
She had to stand on her tiptoes to see through the dense brush. Out among the forest shadows, she thought she made out the dark looming shapes of deer running the trail. It was a small herd, perhaps six or seven animals. She squinted as one animal veered closer to their hiding place. It must be a large buck for it … Against the tracery of black shadows, the elusive wink of moonlight flashed on shell.