Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) (2 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series)
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Greyhawk ran.
Twig called, “Greyhawk, wait!”
“No! I don’t care if I do shame my father,” Greyhawk shouted and kept running. Yipper charged out in front of him, leading the way home.
“Yes, you do!” Twig ran harder, caught up with him, and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Don’t you want to be a great warrior, like your father? If you leave now, you’ll be staring at your feet for the rest of your life.”
Greyhawk faced her with his jaw clenched tight. Like all children between the ages of eight and twelve, boys and girls, he was studying to be a warrior. On any other day, except today when he needed both hands to grab eggs, he would have had his weapons with him.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked.
Finally, he threw up his arms. “All right, but if the terns pluck my brain out, I expect you to scoop up every piece and carry it home to my father.”
“Whatever they don’t choke down.”
He gave her a disheartened look as he strode past her and dashed out into the nesting area. Yipper worked
himself into a frenzy barking and snapping at the attacking birds.
“Hurry!” Twig yelled. “Once our bags are full we can leave!”
She whacked at terns with one hand while she grabbed eggs with the other, then sprinted for the next nest. Greyhawk stayed close beside her. His hat took most of the hits, but occasionally a tern flew right into his face and bashed him hard. His nose was bleeding.
After another hundred heartbeats, a high-pitched scream rang out, and Grizzly ran past them batting at his head. Two terns had grabbed locks of his hair and were ferociously trying to rip it out by the roots. Grizzly shouted, “Get them off me! Help! Somebody help me!”
Snapper stalked over and whacked him in the head with her bag again, which knocked the terns loose and sent them squealing into the sky. “Stop playing with the terns and get back to gathering eggs,” she ordered.
Grizzly looked at her as though she were dim-witted, but ran to obey.
In a short time, most of the children’s bags were full, and one by one, they began to race out of the nesting area and back up the trail.
Once they were all assembled, Snapper yelled, “Now, stay together! We have to walk fast, or you will be late for Elder Bandtail’s Storytelling.”
By the time they reached Buffalobeard Village, Father Sun had already slipped into the underworld, and a misty purple haze was rising from Ice Giant Lake.
A
T THE EDGE of the village, the children split up and sprinted for their own lodges. Twig called, “I’ll see you at Storytelling, Greyhawk.”
He lifted a hand and trotted away with Yipper at his side.
Twig removed the egg-filled bag from her shoulder and looked around. Thirty-two people lived in the village. One family, often including grandparents, lived in each of the fourteen lodges that were arranged in a rough oval around the big central fire pit. Few people were out at this time of night. Most were inside eating supper, though she saw four old people sitting by the central fire, chewing
the last scraps of meat from the bones of a roasted caribou. The remainder of the carcass, still suspended from a pole over the fire, was sizzling, filling the village with the wonderful fragrance of roasted meat.
Twig walked past two lodges before she reached her own. She and Mother lived alone. Mother was the village Spirit dreamer and needed privacy to perform the rituals that kept their village safe.
Firelight streamed around the edges of the door curtain as Twig called, “Mother, I’m home,” and ducked inside.
Mother knelt before the fire, adding branches to the blaze. She had a narrow face, and a slightly hooked nose. Her hair was black and waist-length. The deer-hide cape she wore was painted with the images of running black bears. “Twig, I was getting worried. What took you so long?”
Twig’s eyes drifted over the interior of the rounded lodge. Built upon a woven willow-pole frame and covered with thick buffalo hides, the lodge was three body-lengths across and just tall enough for an adult to stand up in. Through the smoke hole in the roof—a gap in the hides that allowed the smoke to escape—she saw the Star People glittering. In the rear, thick piles of rolled hides marked their beds.
The buffalo hides on the floor cushioned her steps as Twig walked over and handed her bag to Mother. “We had to walk much farther this time. I swear Ice Giant Lake has risen more than my height since last spring.”
“Yes, the Ice Giants are melting very fast these days. That’s why the gullies and creeks are all wider and deeper. They’re being washed out by the runoff.” Mother gestured to the fire. “Your supper is in the bowls on the hearthstone. I’ve been keeping it warm for you. If you don’t eat quickly, Bandtail will punish you before you even have a chance to sit down at the Storytelling.”
“I know. Elder Snapper made us run almost all the way because she was afraid we’d be late.”
Twig knelt and reached for the two wooden bowls, one turned upside down on top of the other. When she removed the top bowl, the scent of fried rabbit rose. She grabbed a piece of the rich meat and bit into it hungrily.
Mother walked to the tea bag hanging from the tripod at the edge of the fire. “Do you want some hot tea?”
“Yes, Mother, thank you.”
Mother pulled two sticks out the woodpile and very carefully used them to lift a hot rock from the fire pit, which she dropped into the hide bag. Steam exploded as the tea came to a boil. Mother waited for a few heartbeats, until the boil slowed down; then she dipped a wooden cup into the bag to fill it, and handed it to Twig. “Here, this should warm you up.”
Twig took the cup and sipped it. The tea was almost too hot to drink. Made from spruce needles and bumblebee honey, it had a sweet, tangy flavor. “It’s delicious, Mother.”
Mother dipped a cup of tea for herself and sat down beside Twig. “Did you see any sign of Thornback raiders?”
Around a mouthful of food, Twig said, “No. Not even a single track.”
“That’s a relief.” Mother sipped her tea and seemed to be thinking about something. Her eyes were focused on something far away.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” Mother said quickly. “It’s just that a runner came in today. He was from Sunhawk Village, and he said his hunting party had stumbled over the bodies of Deputy Walleye and his search party.”
“The warriors we sent to find Cobia?”
“Yes. Our chief wanted Cobia to dream the future for us, but our search party was ambushed near Cobia’s cave. The runner talked with War Chief Puffer, and Puffer came to talk with me right after the runner left. Puffer wondered if I had dreamed anything about the Thornback raiders.”
“Did you?”
Mother tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. “No.”
For a time they sat in silence. Twig watched Mother from the corner of her eye while she ate. Mother looked frightened. What else had Puffer said? There had to be more to the story, something so bad that Mother didn’t want to tell Twig about it.
Finally, Mother said, “What about you? Did you remember anything else from the dream that woke you last night?”
Without thinking, Twig squeezed her eyes closed, and the dream came back … .
The wave of heat hits me, and it’s as though my skin is peeling from my face!
“Help!” I cry out. “Someone help me!”
“I’m right here. Come to me, Dreamer.”
The ground is heaving and shuddering. I try to see who spoke, but I don’t see anyone. “Where are you?”
“Come. Fly to me. Your people need your help.”
The gentle voice echoes from the snow, and on the crest of the high ice ridge, I see a young woman sitting. She wears a white mammoth hide over her shoulders, and black hair whips around her beautiful face. Behind her, strange, half-transparent things dance. They don’t seem to have any arms or legs.
I shout, “But I’ve only seen twelve summers! What can I do?”
The woman smiles. “You can save them, Twig. If you’re brave enough. Just remember that to step onto the path, you must leave it. Only the lost come to stand before the entrance to Cobia’s cave, and only the defenseless step over its threshold. You—”
“Twig?” Mother said sharply. “I asked about your dream. Answer me.”
The memory died. Twig shuddered before she could stop it. “N-no, Mother. I don’t remember anything else. Really. I just remember seeing the green ball of light and being scared. That’s all.”
Mother stared at her unblinking. “You didn’t tell anyone about the dream, did you?”
Twig took another big bite of rabbit and chewed it for several heartbeats before she lied, “No. You told me not to. But I still don’t understand why I can’t—”
“Yes, you do. The story would travel through the village like lightning. Within days the elders would call a council meeting to question you to determine if you are a Spirit dreamer. Do you want to be made an outcast?”
“But you’re a Spirit dreamer, and you’re not an outcast. Spirit dreamers are only made outcasts if they become too strange to live among other human beings. I won’t change—”
“How do you know that? You have powerful dreaming blood. You could become as crazy as Screech Owl, or—or worse, Cobia. That’s why your grandfather was sent to kidnap Cobia. She was a power child, and everyone knew it. Everyone wanted her to dream the future for them. Do you want someone to come and kidnap you?”
Twig swallowed hard.
Mother lowered her voice and hissed, “Ever since you were born, I’ve seen Cobia’s shadow hanging over you, as though you are her daughter, not mine. The two of you are linked, Twig. I don’t know how or why, but it frightens me.”
The fear in Mother’s voice terrified Twig. She ate the last bite of meat from the rabbit leg and set the bone down in her bowl. “Did Cobia ever dream the future for our people?”
Mother sat back and seemed to be thinking. “Cobia
had seen four summers when our Spirit dreamer, Chief Minnow, first asked her to dream for him. From that moment until the day she left, people never left her alone. She dreamed constantly, for anyone who asked, and her dreams always came true.”
Mother looked away and stared at the lodge flap, as though she expected Cobia to walk right through it at any instant. “I don’t know how she stood it. She must have been exhausted.”
Twig hesitated for a long time before she worked up the courage to say, “Mother? Maybe I should go ask Screech Owl about my dream. He’s very powerful. He may know—”
“Absolutely not!” Mother shouted. “He’s lost his human soul, Twig. There’s no telling what kind of animal soul is living in his body. It could be a rabid wolf that will chew you up! I don’t want you going anywhere near Screech Owl.”
Mother didn’t like Screech Owl. He was an odd old hermit who lived in a cave down at the Snake Rocks. Every time Twig went to see him, he was very kind to her. Strange, but kind. Twig picked up her tea and concentrated on drinking it.
In a softer voice, Mother said, “Besides, I need you here in the village. The Buffalo Way ceremony is coming up. There is a lot to be done, and you have to help me.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mother waited until Twig finished her tea and set her cup down; then she said, “Well, you had better get to the
Storytelling. You don’t want to be late. Elder Bandtail can be peevish.”
Relieved to be going, Twig ran across the lodge and ducked out into the night. Children had already started to gather around the big plaza fire. She could see their faces shining in the light.
G
REYHAWK SAT YAWNING between Twig and Grizzly, listening to Elder Bandtail’s old voice drone on. He was totally bored, not to mention covered with bloody gashes where the terns had ripped hunks out of his face and hands.
Greyhawk tried to focus on anything but the story Bandtail was telling. The old woman had withered cheeks, a hunched back, and a large, bulbous nose the size of his fist. Her gray hair hung around her face like greasy twists of weasel fur, making her look like a hag from the darkest underworld.
The other twelve children around the fire looked as
bored as he did. Little Cougar stared off at the glistening Ice Giants. Yellow Gull retied her moccasins for the third time, and Muskrat was watching the Star People glitter. The night smelled of wood smoke, and the roasted caribou and boiled tern eggs villagers had had for supper.
“I’m going to fall asleep,” Twig whispered to Greyhawk.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. She’ll bash you in the head with her walking stick. I know. I still have the dent from three moons ago, when she—”
“Are you talking?” Bandtail’s eyes narrowed. “No talking while I’m telling stories!” She pointed her walking stick at him.
Greyhawk shut up. He swore she could hear the softest whisper from a day’s walk away.
Once a moon, each of the clan elders gathered together with all the children who had seen less than thirteen summers and told them the Old Stories. When the children became adults, at thirteen or fourteen, they would be expected to recite the sacred stories flawlessly. His least favorite elder was Bandtail, from Twig’s clan, the Blue Bear Clan.
Greyhawk decided he would join Muskrat and stare up at the Star People. They were very bright tonight, so bright he could almost reach out and—
Bandtail pounded her walking stick on the ground, and Greyhawk jumped at the same time that Yipper, who had been sound asleep at Greyhawk’s feet, barked and scrambled to his feet with his hair standing straight up. A low
growl rumbled in Yipper’s throat as he scanned the village, searching for whatever monster had awakened him.
“It’s okay, boy,” Greyhawk said, and petted Yipper’s back. “Everything’s all right.”
Yipper wagged his tail, stared up at Greyhawk with love in his yellow eyes, then flopped on his side and went to sleep again.
Bandtail leaned forward and stabbed her stick at Greyhawk. “What happened then?”
Greyhawk, who had not heard a word she’d said, blurted, “After what?”
Twig leaned over and whispered the answer to him, but her voice was so low all Greyhawk heard was the word
tortoise
.
Bandtail’s wrinkled mouth puckered up like a dried plum. While still glaring at him, she called, “Who knows what happened next?”
Buzzard, a five-summers-old boy, shouted, “Tortoise brought up mud!”
“That’s right,” Bandtail praised. “Tortoise brought up mud from the depths of the oceans, and Earthmaker fashioned the mud into the land, trees, animals, and humans. Then what happened?”
In a high-pitched little girl voice, Black Locust called, “Earthmaker breathed Spirit into the world, just like we breathe Spirit into our atlatls and spears, and all living things chose their own colors. The trees turned green, and the animals—”
“Good.” Bandtail rocked back on her hips and glared
around the circle, as though selecting her next victim. She glared at Greyhawk again for good measure. “After Earthmaker had finished his creation, he realized with a shock that he’d forgotten to leave room for rivers and creeks. But he’d made everything so perfect that he hated to start ripping gashes. He didn’t know what to do. He waited so long that the trees started drooping and the animals were dying of thirst. Muskrat came to him with his tongue hanging out and told Earthmaker he’d better do something fast.” She aimed her stick at Buzzard. “Buzzard, what did Earthmaker do?”
“Earthmaker made rivers!” Buzzard slurred around the finger in his mouth, only to be shouted down by the other children yelling, “No, he didn’t! Stupid! Not yet.”
“You, Rattler,” Bandtail said. “What did Earthmaker say to Muskrat?”
Greyhawk looked at her and sighed. Rattler was so beautiful. Every boy in the village prayed for a single glance from her. Unfortunately, she made a habit of sneering at anyone who paid her the slightest attention—including Greyhawk.
Rattler sat up straighter. “He said he didn’t know where to put the rivers.”
“That’s right. Earthmaker said, ‘Yes, yes, you’re right, Muskrat, but where shall I put the rivers and creeks? Do you have any ideas?’ Together, Earthmaker and Muskrat went to the rim of the sky to peer down upon the world. From their height, the only things they could see clearly were the huge serpents that Earthmaker had created first.
They slithered all over the land, creating squiggles. But when a dark shadow skimmed over the face of the world—it was Red-Tailed Hawk looking for dinner—the serpents instantly froze. Only their forked tongues darted to scent the air for danger.”
“Then Earthmaker made rivers!” Buzzard shouted, trying again.
“Yes,” Bandtail agreed. “Muskrat pointed at the snakes and said, ‘There! Look at those magnificent patterns! Put the rivers where the snakes are. Isn’t that beautiful? Not even you could have found better places than Red-Tailed Hawk.’ So Earthmaker turned all the giant serpents into rivers.”
Bandtail cracked her walking stick on one of the hearthstones to wake everyone up. “Next moon, Elder Blood Duck will tell you the story of the hero twins, the Blessed Wolf Dreamer and his evil brother, Raven Hunter, who fought and killed all the monsters in the Beginning Time.”
Buzzard let out a happy shriek and threw his arms around Bandtail’s neck. “No, please, tell us another story tonight, Grandmother,” he begged.
Greyhawk softly groaned, “Oh, not another one.”
Grizzly snickered, and Twig hissed, “Shh!”
As though Bandtail had heard, one of her eyes started to twitch. She called out in a loud hoarse voice, “Children, Greyhawk the Wise is going to tell you a story of long ago. A true story of Cobia and the evil creatures that come at her bidding. Go on, Greyhawk, since you seem to know so much.”
“Which story?” he asked.
“The story about how she called to me when I had seen only fourteen summers.”
Greyhawk looked around the circle at the other children. They seemed to be waiting. Twig was biting her lip. “I don’t know that story. How could I know what Cobia said to you when you were fourteen summers old?”
Bandtail waved her stick in front of his face. “Then perhaps if you don’t know anything, you should listen better.”
Children laughed, and Greyhawk wanted to crawl under the log and hide. “Yes, Elder,” he said in shame.
Bandtail leaned forward and stared each child in the eyes before she continued, “I heard Cobia crying. It was in the middle of the night, and I was worried about her. She’d just come from the Duskland, far, far to the west. She was only two, and helpless. I rose from my hides and walked across the village toward the Spirit dreamer’s lodge. Cobia was crying harder and harder. I had a little girl of my own at the time, named Hopleaf. She was pretty, with big brown eyes, and I kept imagining how Hopleaf would feel if she’d been kidnapped and dragged away to a strange land, with no family or friends.”
Buzzard had tears in his eyes. “Was she afraid of the dark?”
“I don’t know, but it was very dark that night. Yes, indeed. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, but I kept marching, pushing on through the blackness to get to her. The lodge flap was swinging when I arrived, as
though someone had just entered. A thin line of light seeped around the edges, lighting the ground at my feet.”
Buzzard began to wring his hands in his lap. “Was she dead?”
Bandtail hissed, “She was laughing. It was a sweet sound, and I thought maybe the Spirit dreamer’s wife had picked Cobia up and started playing with her. I pulled back the lodge flap to see … and I gasped.”
Terrified, Buzzard asked, “What did you see?”
“I don’t know what they were. Spirit Helpers of some kind. Huge things, with no arms or legs. They danced around her bed, their enormous beaks clacking like thunder while they spun and leaped in time to music I couldn’t hear.”
Everyone, including Greyhawk, sat as if frozen, staring at Bandtail. Twig looked especially terrified.
Bandtail’s mouth hung open for so long that a bead of spit formed at one corner and dribbled down her chin.
Rattler asked, “What did you do?”
Bandtail croaked, “I screamed in fear, and a green demon with a twisted face flew at me. He drove me across the entire village, clutching at my hair and dress while I screamed my throat raw. When I finally scrambled into my lodge, my baby girl, Hopleaf, was dead.”
Greyhawk glanced at Twig, but Twig didn’t seem to notice. He said, “What happened to Hopleaf?”
“She’d been witched, stupid boy. Witched by Cobia, because I’d seen the evil Spirits she’d called to keep her company.”
Greyhawk said, “Cobia is a baby killer?”
“Not just babies—everyone. She’s too powerful. As she grew up, the Spirit dreaming twisted her soul into knots. She’ll kill a person just for walking near her cave. That’s probably what happened to Deputy Walleye and his search party. Remember that, in case any of you ever get curious about her and decide to go find her cave—like Little Badger and Sunmoth did last year.”
Absolute silence fell.
Both children had died horribly. It had taken War Chief Puffer five days to find their wolf-chewed bodies. They’d been half buried in ice, their frozen eyes wide open, staring at the distant Ice Giants as though terrified.
Bandtail leaned on her willow stick and grunted to her feet. “Now, all of you get to your hides and sleep well tonight.”
The children scattered, racing for their lodges. Greyhawk, Twig, and Rattler headed in the same direction.
As they ran, Rattler said, “My father says that Walleye’s party was ambushed by Thornback raiders, not Cobia.”
“Maybe,” Greyhawk answered, “but I heard no one really saw men. Whatever killed Walleye and his warriors floated through the trees like black ghosts.”
Twig shuddered.
From across the plaza, Grizzly called, “I’m going to beat you up tomorrow, Greyhawk!” Then he turned to run off for his lodge.
When they were alone, Twig grabbed Greyhawk’s arm and stopped him.
He said, “What’s wrong?”
Twig looked around to make sure no one could hear them; then she whispered, “Greyhawk, I have to go see Screech Owl to talk to him about my dream. Mother told me not to, but after what Elder Bandtail said about Cobia … I—I have to. There’s a woman in my dream. I think it may be Cobia. I’m going to go tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?”
“Screech Owl!” he half shouted. “Are you crazy? He’s not human.”
Twig gave him a pleading look. “I’d go alone, like I always do, but with the raiders out there, I’m afraid to. Please, come with me.”
The tone of her voice made him feel instantly guilty. It would be very dangerous for her to go alone. In addition to the evil raiders, short-faced bears and saber-toothed cats prowled the trails. Greyhawk definitely did not want to go with her. Just the thought of looking into old Screech Owl’s inhuman eyes made his belly curdle.
“I—I’ll decide tomorrow, Twig.”
Greyhawk ran off toward his own lodge, leaving Twig standing by herself in the darkness.
Just before he ducked into his lodge, it occurred to him that if he did go with her, it would get him away from Grizzly’s promised beating. And, well, he didn’t actually have to go into Screech Owl’s cave. He could just stand outside and wait for her.
Maybe he would go with Twig.

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