People of the Mist (7 page)

 
          
Reluctantly,
Flat Willow gave up on the arrow for the time being, and cut back to the trail.
He followed it down far enough to see Oyster Shell Landing through the gray
tracery of branches.

 
          
High
Fox was pushing a slim canoe out into the water. Then he jumped lithely into
the boat, seated himself, and began paddling down the inlet. If he’d cut his
hand as badly as the blood would indicate, it didn’t seem to hinder him.

 
          
Flat
Willow
dropped to a crouch. Why would High Fox
have a canoe beached on this side of the neck? Why hadn’t he landed at
Flat
Pearl
Village
?

 
          
“Well,
High Fox, it’s going to be good riddance. You stupid fool!” High Fox, the
Weroance’s spoiled son, had had everything —even Red Knot. But, as of that very
morning, Flat Willow had taken charge, begun the slow process of paying them
all back.

 
          
You’ll
see, High Fox. You’ll never underestimate Flat Willow again. He slapped his
thigh and rose to resume the search for his lost arrow.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk ground her empty gums against each other. By
midday
, it had become apparent that Red Knot was
missing. A quick search of the buildings within the palisade came up empty, as
did the search of the houses in the fields just beyond. Hunting Hawk scowled at
the people gathered within the palisade. Why did organizing for a search create
so much milling and confusion? Even fish—mindless as they were—could come
together without much effort.

 
          
The
visitors from the surrounding villages stood in little clumps, talking to each
other in low voices. That wary look on their faces irritated her. Curse it all,
it was an embarrassment.

 
          
Copper
Thunder stood to one side, his warriors in ranks behind him. She studied his
face, trying to read the sardonic expression. Was that smugness, wry humor, or
subtle irony?

 
          
To
her right, Nine Killer’s lieutenants, Stone Cob and Flying Weir, were calling
out orders as Nine Killer detailed parties of warriors to search different
areas. Nine Killer didn’t look like a War Chief. Most of the women were taller
than he, but looks could deceive. Heavy lidded eyes and fat cheeks made him
appear sleepy and lazy. Broad-lipped and wide, the man’s mouth gave him a bland
expression. Those bandy legs might not be fast, but they could carry him long
after the swiftest of runners had played out. His too-long arms could paddle a
canoe nonstop the length of the
Salt
Water
Bay
. And as Nine Killer liked to point out,
there was a great deal more to war than imposing size. He’d won his name after
having snuck into
Mattaponi
Village
and single-handedly killed the Weroance and
eight of his warriors, then, to the bafflement of his enemy, mysteriously
vanished into the night. One didn’t underestimate a man like that.

 
          
“Very
well, let’s go!” Nine Killer called out, and thrust his bow toward the palisade
gate. “You know what to look for. She’s probably just wandered off to be alone,
but don’t take chances. Ignore nothing suspicious.”

 
          
His
warriors trotted out sharply, heads held high, backs straight. As they went
they clacked war clubs against their bows, the clatter in time to each prancing
step.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk shot a sly glance at Copper Thunder and his warriors, fully aware that the
show was for their benefit. The visitors remained expressionless, some looking
studiously bored, but she could see the gleam in those dark eyes. The scrappy
reputation of Greenstone Clan’s warriors had been fairly won. Even the
Mamanatowick, Water Snake, despite all the resources of his subchiefs, avoided
clashes with Greenstone Clan.

 
          
Black
Spike, Weroance of Three Myrtle Village, stood on the other side of the dance
ground, his arms crossed as he watched the warriors depart. His strained
expression, the tension in his posture, caught Hunting Hawk’s attention.

 
          
Black
Spike had always been a handsome man, tall, muscular, and quick of wit and
action. Three
Myrtle
Village
lay half a day’s journey east in the next
large inlet. Over the years, the two villages—mostly populated by Greenstone
Clan—had allied themselves for practical and political purposes. Her own
daughter, Shell Comb, had lived there during the time she’d been married to
Monster Bone.

 
          
Black
Spike kept knotting his jaw muscles, and his hands clenched, relaxed, and
clenched again. Why should he care so much about a missing girl? No doubt she’d
be found sulking out in the trees, and within a week the entire thing would be
forgotten.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk arched a grizzled eyebrow as Black Spike gave Shell Comb a direct
inspection from across the dance ground. For a long moment, their eyes held,
challenging, answering, and desperate. What was that look they traded? Some
private communication? But just as quickly, Shell Comb turned forcefully away.

 
          
The
muscles bulged in Black Spike’s taut cheeks.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk’s attention shifted as Copper Thunder strode purposefully toward her.

 
          
“Honorable
Weroansqua,” he said, “are you sure that I cannot offer my warriors to assist
you?”

 
          
“It
isn’t necessary, Great Tayac.” She gestured toward the forested ridge. “My
people know the country. All the little nooks and crannies.”

 
          
His
dark eyes seemed to burn. “She wouldn’t have… run off, now would she?”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk stiffened. “Never!”

 
          
“But
it is not unheard—”

 
          
“She
knows that I’d have Nine Killer scour the ends of the earth until he found her
and dragged her back. Red Knot would never disgrace her clan in such a manner.”

 
          
“I
see.” Copper Thunder’s expression betrayed nothing. “Most likely she just went
for a walk, to sort out her spirit. Consider: In the last eight days, she’s
gone from a girl to a woman, and tomorrow she leaves with you to become a wife.
From the moment of her first cramps, she’s been pestered by everyone. I’d guess
she just needed a moment to herself, to think and reflect.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder fingered the war club hanging from his breech clout It had been
intricately carved, a pointed stone set above a sharp copper spike. “I’ve
noticed the women in your family think and reflect a great deal. I wonder if
I’m doing myself any favors by marrying into your line.”

 
          
“I
don’t know. Are you?” Hunting Hawk gave him a bland look to cover her sudden
unease. Bloody bats, he didn’t suspect the depths of her complicity, did he?

 
          
He
chuckled. “My men and I would really like to be of help. A sign of our new
relationship.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk nodded reluctantly. “Very well. Great Tayac, dispatch your men. On the
slim chance that she’s in some kind of trouble, it might not hurt to have some
extra eyes out there.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, and his warriors wheeled in
unison, trotting out like a school of fish. Beyond the palisade, Copper Thunder’s
second called orders and men dispersed with cool efficiency.

 
          
“They’re
well trained,” Hunting Hawk noted.

 
          
“Of
course. A man doesn’t accomplish what I have without discipline.”

 
          
“And
ruthlessness,” she added.

 
          
“That,
too, but then, living between the serpent and the stone, as you do, you can
understand the value of that.”

 
          
“Indeed
I can.” As you will soon learn, my friend.

 
          
Copper
Thunder stood uneasily, his eyes narrowed.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk caught Yellow Net’s eye as her niece walked past. She could see the
woman’s anxiety as she shot a worried glance at Copper Thunder. Hunting Hawk
smiled to reassure her. As Yellow Net took a deep breath and walked off,
Hunting Hawk asked, “Something on your mind, Great Tayac?”

 
          
“Just
wondering. That’s all.. Why me, Weroansqua? Water Snake would have been a more
logical choice for an ally. His country lies immediately to your south. Despite
what your daughter told me this morning, you could have obtained inland goods
through him as well as me.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk smiled crookedly. Be careful, woman. He smells the trap. “What if I told
you I just had a feeling in my gut?”

 
          
“I
wouldn’t believe it. Tell me honestly, have you ever done anything based on a
gut feeling?”

 
          
“Of
course … and so have you. You’re a sly one, Great Tayac. Always feeling. out
your opponent, seeking to learn more of his strengths and weaknesses.”

 
          
He
shrugged it off. “Among my people, one does not become Tayac, let alone Great
Tayac, without studying his associates. A smart leader never sleeps.”

 
          
“No,
she doesn’t.”

 
          
He
shot her a sidelong glance. “You know, don’t you, that some parties would
profit by abducting your granddaughter. “

 
          
“I’ve
been trying not to think of that. But, yes, it’s a possibility. And the
consequences would be dire indeed.”

 
          
He
took a deep breath. “It would be a slap in the face to you and your clan, and
to me and my people. We would have no choice but to destroy the offender.”

 
          
“Whole
villages would be burned, their people murdered. No one would be safe.” “Let us
hope that your first thought was the right one.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk clasped her hands together, as if locking them around that hope. “I’m sure
the explanation will be simple.”

 
          
No,
despite her worries, he didn’t suspect a thing.

 
          
Quick
Fawn reached down for a piece of firewood, the first she’d seen since leaving
the village. At twelve, she was willowy, and pretty. Her mother, Yellow Net,
had combed out her long black hair until it gleamed. Her heart-shaped face and
sparkling eyes were the envy of her friends. Her slim body had just begun to
round, promising a woman’s beauty to come.

 
          
At
least a hand of time had passed since her mother had sent her out for wood. The
chore of keeping the fires going was an endless one. Years of collecting around
the village had forced her to travel farther up the neck of land. But, to be
truthful, she had been dallying, wanting time away. Her confrontation with Red
Knot after the dance the night before still bothered her. So much was
happening, she needed time to think about it.

 
          
A
squirrel dashed from branch to branch above her, and perched, staring down with
beady black eyes.

 
          
“Better
be glad you’re up there, free, my friend,” she told the bushy-tailed rodent.
“You don’t want to be a human girl.”

 
          
As
if in agreement, the squirrel flicked its tail and bounded into the higher
branches.

 
          
Quick
Fawn climbed farther up the slope to where the old oak had fallen. The hole was
huge, and until last year it had been the biggest tree in the forest above
Flat
Pearl
Village
. Then, in a storm last summer, lightning
had riven it. To everyone’s amazement, the heart of the great trunk had been
hollow and rotten. The tree had cracked down the middle, and half had fallen,
splintering the branches of its neighbors as it crashed down onto the forest floor.
The other half still stood, weathered and dead, waiting for the inevitable
storm that would topple it as well.

 
          
The
tree’s corpse provided a wealth of wood for the young collectors from
Flat
Pearl
Village
.

 
          
Quick
Fawn looked at the litter covering the ground, and then up at the bare sky.
When the mighty oak fell, it had opened a huge patch of forest to the light.

 
          
She
laid her wood to one side and climbed agilely up the fallen section of trunk.
Placing her back in the crook of one of the broken branches, she leaned her
head back and stared up at the clouds.