The Dawn Country(80)

“Look!” Auma hissed, and pointed. “In the tree. What … what is that?”

Only slowly did Zateri become aware of the thing floating in the maple. It appeared in the deepest shadows, then fluttered into view. It looked vaguely human, and wore a shimmering translucent material. As she squinted, it seemed to be flying, rising upon each icy gust, then falling down only to rise again.

“Blessed Spirits,” Auma hissed. “It’s a ghost!”

Zateri had never seen a homeless ghost before, though she knew they roamed the forest, along with other kinds of Spirit beings. Fear warmed her veins.

“Maybe. Let’s get closer.”

“Are you mad? I just told you it’s a ghost! I’m not getting closer to it!” Auma said.

Zateri wound through the underbrush until she could see it swaying in the maple branches. A rectangular frame lay canted at an angle in the brush below, but she had no idea what it was.

When the Cloud People parted and sunlight streaked across the heavens, the ghost became even more fantastic. It was nearly transparent, but it crackled as it floated up and down. The kind of crackle that made the breath still in Zateri’s lungs.

Then something miraculous happened. The wind shifted, and flashes of color appeared and disappeared. The ghost held a prism, a rainbow, in its heart. The ground beneath it glistened with wings of light.

“Oh, gods, no.” Frantically, she began searching the forest floor, thrashing through the underbrush until she saw the body.

Carefully, Zateri picked her way around old stumps and brush to reach it. She had to clench her hands to still them.

The old woman is a monster.

“What is it?” Auma murmured as she worked through the brush to get to Zateri.

“It’s a body,” Zateri said. “He’s been skinned.”

Dark red flesh covered the bones and looked startling against the white teeth in the gaping mouth.

Conkesema trotted up behind Auma. When she saw the body, her mouth opened, but no words came out—only a single note, soft and sweet, like the beginning of a phoebe’s song. The purity was stunning. It went on and on, then abruptly rose to a breathless shriek.

“No, Conkesema!” Auma leaped for her and put a hand over her mouth.

The little girl fought like a wildcat, tearing at Auma’s hands, struggling to run away. Auma clamped her lips against Conkesema’s ear and snarled, “Stop it. Stop! They’ll hear us. They’ll come!”

Conkesema sagged in her arms, sobbing. Auma stroked her hair. “It’s all right. Just don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

Zateri moved into the clearing and bravely walked beneath the ghost. Rainbows danced upon her upturned face. “It’s the skin. A dried human skin. It must have been stretched over the frame, but the frame fell off when the wind—”

“Who is it?” Auma released Conkesema, and the girl sank to the ground and covered her face with her dress hem. Auma walked to stand beside Zateri. “Is it Wrass?”

“The corpse is too big. It’s probably that guard Akio. This was his punishment for letting us escape. She turned him into one of her hanehwa.”

Zateri studied the ground. The leaves were thick in this small clearing, and Wind Mother had stirred them around. There were no tracks, no trails. But Gannajero’s men must have walked back to the river where the canoes were stowed.

She carefully made her way down to the shore and frowned. Near one of the places where they’d shoved off, there were strange drag marks.

“What’s this?” she said just above a whisper.

“Did you find something?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what it is.”

Zateri knelt. When her eyes narrowed, the reflections off the water seemed to grow brighter. “One of them must have been hurt. I see handprints beside the drag marks, but no footprints. The handprints are small.”

“A boy’s?”

Hope was rushing in her veins. She put her fingers over one of the handprints. It was only slightly larger than hers. “Yes,” the soft cry erupted from her lips before she knew it. “I—I think it’s Wrass.”

Auma hurried over to look. “He escaped?”

Zateri sank down on the sand to look at the handprints more closely. Something was wrong. A frightening sensation constricted her chest, squeezing it until she couldn’t breathe. “Auma, if he’s dragging himself, he’s hurt badly.”

“Maybe that’s why the old woman left him. He was dying.”

The words were like a deerbone stiletto in Zateri’s heart. She longed to strike the girl. But she got to her feet and let her gaze follow the drag marks up the shore. He couldn’t have gone far. “I’m going to find him.”