Angry Hands

  Laiden usually enjoyed hiking; he wouldn’t have wandered all over Back Bone if he hadn’t. The clean air had the fresh smell of just being washed, and the damp earth kept the temperatures down. Small foraging animals scuttled across the ground taking advantage of newly blown seeds. Laiden wished he could enjoy the day, but small thorns of anxiety kept pricking him.

  “Just over the next hill and we’ll be able to see the village,” Treefrog finally said.

  They topped the rise, and the village was visible in the distance. Four huts and the central fire pit. But no people, no smoke, and Laiden noted with fear, no wisent. The men had stopped as they looked into the distance.

  Laiden shaded his eyes. “Where is everyone?” he asked uneasily.

  “I don’t know,” Treefrog answered, his voice quavering a bit.

  Laiden started to remove his pack. “Let’s leave the stone here. Then we can jog home faster.”

  “Good idea. We can come back tomorrow,” Treefrog agreed as he lowered his own pack to the ground. They began a quick sprint, each anxious for loved ones. As they neared, the village looked even bleaker up close. No voices, no projects started—the village looked deserted.

  Neither man had to explain to the other his movements on reaching the village. Treefrog went to his own hut, and Laiden went to Dieth’s. In the dim interior, he took a quick inventory. He saw her immediately. “Dethina.” She lay curled like a child among her disheveled blankets.

  At hearing her name, Dethina sat up. She began a hysterical wail. “Laiden. Laiden.”

  He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Dethina, what’s happened? Where is everybody?”

  She choked out some garbled words.

  “Slow down,” Laiden demanded. “Where are your parents?”

  “I don’t know,” she moaned.

  Laiden gave her a small shake. “Dethina, they might need help. Tell me what happened.”

  “Stop shaking me,” she wailed. She mumbled a sentence. “A storm came. Birdsong called for my parents to go outside, and I haven’t seen them since.”

  Spirits. Laiden’s terrible foreboding intensified. Dethina fell into fretful tears again. “All right,” he said. “Stay here. I’m going to see if I can find them.”

  “No. No. Don’t leave me,” she begged as she grabbed for him.

  He gave her hands a quick squeeze of reassurance. “Your parents might need help. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He hoped that was all—that they needed help and not worse.

  “Okay,” she moaned.

  He disengaged her clutching hands, kissed her on the forehead, and left the hut as Dethina continued her anguished tears.

  Laiden met a grim-looking Treefrog outside the hut. “Is any of your family here?” he asked.

  “No, but I found the footprints of Mora, Orey, and the boys. They lead this way. I’m going to follow them.”

  The grip of fear strengthened its hold on Laiden. The trail led toward the plains and the dry riverbeds that filled with rushing water when it stormed. With all the rain in the mountains last night, the gullies would have been overflowing.

  Treefrog looked over his shoulder. “Is Dethina here? What did she say?”

  “She’s hysterical. I couldn’t get anything coherent out of her.”

  The prints were easily read in the wet gravel. They hadn’t been washed away. That meant that the two elderly and two toddlers had come out after the rain had stopped. That was the only good sign since their bleak return.

  Laiden scanned the land between themselves and the mountains. “There they are.”

  But Treefrog had already seen them and had began running. He reached the group where he fell to his knees and gave his sons a possessive hug. “Thank the spirits,” he gasped as he rocked them.

  “Treefrog, Laiden. Thank the gods, you’re back,” croaked Orey. The elderly couple looked ready to collapse. Mora clearly had been crying, and Orey looked gray and skeletal.

  “What’s happened?” Laiden asked. “Where are the others?”

  Orey spoke exasperatingly slow. “Bront and Sodi have an adult daughter in another village. Right after you left, a runner arrived with the news that she’d been bitten by a fang snake. They went to take care of her.”

  “What happened to Dieth and Caris?”

  “I’m not sure.” Orey shook his head in confusion.

  “Well, start at the beginning and tell us what you do know.” By now Treefrog was listening too.

  “It was the thunder and lightning. The crashing was terrible. The noise scared the wisent. We could hear it bellowing in fear.” He buried his face in his hands. “Birdsong said she was going to check on it. I wanted to go with her, but she told me to help Mora with the boys and that she would get Dieth and Caris to help. We haven’t seen any of them since. We came out this morning to look for them.”

  Laiden felt a mournful chill at the likely scenario. The wisent had escaped, and then Birdsong, Dieth, and Caris would have tried to recapture it. If they followed it onto the plains, they would have been swept away when the water arrived from the higher elevation. It was unlikely any of them were alive.

  Mora used her skirt to wipe her eyes, and Orey hung his head. “I’m such a useless old man.”

  Laiden put a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder. “No. You’re important. We need you. Take the boys back to the hut until Treefrog and I return. And please check on Dethina.”

  As Laiden turned to go, Orey stayed him with a weak grasp. “I saw vultures.” He had tears in his eyes. “I tried to make it to them, but my old legs just couldn’t get me there.”

  Laiden put his hand over Orey’s. “It might have been the wisent they were after.”

  Chapter 14

  Dethina melted back into the furs. She was afraid. Her parents would never have abandoned her for so long unless they were unable to return. Somehow they must have been taken to the spirit world. Her body racked with sobs. She hoped they had gone together. But she was alone and scared. Even Sodi was gone. And now Laiden had been so abrupt. She hadn’t forgotten that her mother said he would continue wandering soon.

  Weak and exhausted from crying, she had no more tears. Nothing. Nothing but a slow heartbeat and shallow breath. She decided she would fly up and join her parents. She willed her spirit to leave her body, but it stubbornly remained. No, it wouldn’t be that easy. She would have to go to the pond and give herself to the Water God. The last tears drained from her as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Laiden and Treefrog found the body of Birdsong last, after they had buried Caris and Dieth. Laiden was sorry that Treefrog had joined him on the search; the man was understandably angry and inconsolable. Treefrog raised his fists to the sky and cursed the gods. Laiden let him relieve himself, but finally said, “Treefrog, calm yourself. You must be strong for your sons.”

  Treefrog had laughed hysterically. “Calm myself! Calm myself!” he mocked. He turned on Laiden, his voice rising higher and higher. “Do you know what’s waiting for me back at the village? My two boys, Birdsong’s elderly parents, and one blind girl. How am I supposed to care for them all by myself?”

  “Sodi will help when she returns.”

  “And what if she doesn’t?” Treefrog demanded incredulously.

  Laiden ignored the question. “We can have a Tribal Circle and I will bid on Dethina.”

  Treefrog looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious? You don’t need to bid. If you want her, take her.”

  “She might not want me,” Laiden said reasonably.

  “She doesn’t have a choice,” Treefrog spat. “If she doesn’t want you, she can go to the Water God.”

  Laiden gave his friend a reproachful look. He would overlook the callous words. In addition to the grief of losing Birdsong, Treefrog felt a terrible burden for the surviving villagers. But Laiden himself would not insult Sun custom and the gods by ignoring the promise of his ancestors. He would still honor the custom of bidding.
br />   They were almost back to the huts. Laiden let the matter go for now. Time enough for the Tribal Circle when Sodi and Bront returned. He was sure they would return. “I know Mora and Orey are at a weak time in life, but I think they might find some inner strength. Let’s see if they can pull up.”

  Treefrog didn’t answer, so Laiden turned his thoughts to Dethina. She would want time to grieve the loss of her parents. But she would also be worried about her own future. He was sure Dethina would accept his bid, but this was a poor time to offer for her .

  Chapter 15

  The stars came out; tonight the cold points of light did not comfort Laiden as he watched them cross the sky from his sleeping mat. He had returned to find Dethina limp and uncaring. She was probably in shock, worn out from crying. She had hardly responded when he gently told her that he and Treefrog had buried her parents. “I know,” was all she’d said. He would like to have put his arms around her, but she had erected a personal barrier. Perhaps she misunderstood his intentions; he would give her space, the time she needed to mourn. The first set of stars had disappeared before he could relax enough to sleep.

  The next morning Laiden managed to cajole Dethina outside. “We should probably start with tea,” he said as he rummaged around in Caris’s foodstuff supplies. Dethina sat motionless and silent. “Would you like to talk?” Laiden asked gently. No answer. He would have understood crying or hysterics but the sullen quiet confused him.

  The tea and food had been ignored. “Let me comb your hair,” he suggested. The braid she usually wore had fallen out, and her hair had become a confused snarl. With a comb in hand, Laiden stood behind her and wondered where to begin. He picked up a knot and started the clumsy effort of detangling it. Dethina put a hand to her head. “Ow, that hurts. Why do you have such angry hands?” she snapped.

  Laiden stepped back. “I’ll try to be softer,” he pacified.

  Chapter 16

  With her parents gone, Dethina resigned herself to her fate. When Laiden left, she would submit to the Water God without the humiliation of being forced. But she wanted one thing first. She wanted to lie in the riverbed one more time. To be embraced by the comforting arms of the sand and the waterfall of the sunshine’s warmth. Then she would go, without complaint, to the pond. But she would wait until the sun was just right; she deserved that.

  For two days Dethina did little more than sit on the bench outside the hut. To almost every question or request Laiden made, her response was, “I’m waiting.” Waiting? Waiting for what? She wouldn’t say.

  Laiden finally sat next to her and picked up her hand. “Dethina, we should make plans for the future.”

  She saw it coming. He was going to tell her that she must go to the Water God. “I’m waiting. Please, give me just a little more time,” she pleaded.

  “Okay,” Laiden said quietly. He sighed. “Okay,” he said again.

  Chapter 17

  Whatever happened to the wisent remained a mystery. Laiden never found any tracks or evidence of the beast after its escape. He thought the animal had probably returned to the mountains it had come from. He looked in that direction and was surprised to see someone approaching, a traveling merchant, because the figure was pulling a sled.

  It was customary for village men to run out and assist pulling the heavy sleds as soon as the merchants were in the vicinity. So Laiden said to Dethina, “A merchant’s coming. I’m going to help pull his sled in. I’ll be right back.” She made no comment.

  Laiden ran along the row of huts and yelled to Treefrog as he passed, “A merchant’s coming.” He reached the traveler and was disappointed to discover that he knew the man. Laiden had met the merchant during his wanderings. The man, Ferf, although a great storyteller, had a weak reputation with the truth. “Hello, Ferf,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment.

  “Oh, you.” It was clear Ferf was no more excited than Laiden that their paths had crossed again. Ferf gladly relinquished the pulling rope of the sled, and Laiden took over.

  “What brings you this far?” Laiden asked. He was surprised to see any merchant, especially this one, so far off the regular trail. Ferf shrugged noncommittally.

  By the time Laiden pulled the sled to the huts, Treefrog and his family had emerged to see the unusual sight. “Gather round. Gather round,” said Ferf. “As soon as I rest and have a bite to eat, I’ll open my bundle.” He looked slyly at Treefrog. “I have something your wife will be particularly interested in.” The responding chilly silence and stony expressions told Ferf he had just made an awkward blunder. He looked cautiously around. “I beg your pardon. Something is amiss that I’m not aware of.”

  Laiden answered, “A recent tragedy has taken several village members.” He didn’t elaborate further.

  Ferf pursed his lips. Time to be diplomatic. Honesty might be the best course now, so he said, “I was traveling homeward when I met your village friends Bront and Sodi. They had some excellent cord but were unable to trade it. They told me about the girl and suggested that I might make trade here. But if it’s a bad time...” As an afterthought, he added, “I don’t think they were aware of any recent tragedy.”

  Reluctantly, Laiden admitted that Dethina had twisted the cord. “I’m not sure if she has any interest in trading though.”

  Ferf reverted back to cunning trader. “I have some fur boots,” he said. Forget the food and rest, he started to dig in his bundle. “Sodi thought the blind girl would love to have them.” One small lie.

  Laiden could see that Treefrog had lost interest in the trader. And Laiden himself wanted nothing to do with the man. But Dethina? Maybe she would like the boots. Maybe in a small way they would distract her from the pain she was in. “Follow me.” He led the way to the farthest hut.

  Ferf had a gift for talking with women. When he saw Dethina, he sat beside her on the log, and instead of discussing boots and trading, he spoke of Sodi and Bront. As the girl warmed up to him, he related more and more embellished stories.

  When Ferf felt the time was right, he brought up the subject that had brought him here. “Sodi thought I might make trade here,” he said. “I have some beautiful soft boots I would be willing to trade for cord.”

  “No.” Dethina shook her head. “I’m not working.”

  Undeterred, Ferf retrieved the boots. He removed Dethina’s leather slippers and gently worked her foot into the boot. He smiled to himself, a perfect fit. He had acquired the boots from a Berry Picker who had traded in Brumal for them. But they had been too small for his bonded, and Ferf had made an excellent trade in acquiring them. “Feel how soft they are. How warm. Here.” He took her hand. “Feel here. See they have fur trim. And tassels.”

  Dethina reluctantly felt the outside. There had never been a pair of boots like this in the village before. As if reading her mind, Ferf said, “They were made in Brumal, from the finest, softest fur. You won’t find anything like it here in Sol.”

  Dethina had to admit it was true. They were made of the softest fur she had ever felt. Soft, warm, comforting. What she needed now.

  Yes, she did want the boots. Dethina decided they would keep her feet warm while she waited in the pond for the Water God to come. She would wear the new boots as she entered the spirit world.

  After considering, she said, “I would like the boots. I think I have some pottery I could trade.”

  Ferf frowned. Pottery was heavy and common; he wouldn’t get much in trade for it. The cord would be light, and he could demand a good price for the excellent workmanship. “I already have enough pottery. The trade would have to be for cord.”

  She looked disappointed. She knew her father had used all the cord in securing the wisent. “We have none left,” she said.

  “Can’t you make more?” Ferf asked.

  Dethina stood up and tapped her way to the back of the hut were supplies were kept. She easily found the basket that held the dry sword leaves she used. The basket was only half full.

  “How
much cord do you need in trade?” she asked.

  “Enough to go from here to the farthest hut.”

  Laiden had been silent, but now he objected. “That’s a lot.”

  Ferf held his hands out and shrugged as if he had no control over the matter. “The boots took many days for a Brumal to make them. The materials are the finest, and the skill is from an experienced worker.”

  “I don’t have enough sword leaves,” Dethina said sadly.

  “Where do you get them?” Ferf wanted that cord.

  Dethina didn’t answer.

  Laiden spoke. “I saw sword plants the day we went to the desert floor to get paddles.”

  “Yes,” Dethina admitted. She knew where they grew but was reluctant to ask Laiden to make the long trip.

  “I’ll get them,” Laiden volunteered. “I’ll leave now. I can travel there and back in good time.” In the larger villages, traders often stayed two or three days to trade and rest. Laiden figured Ferf would stay that many as long as Dethina was working on his cord.

  Dethina made another request. “Laiden, I need the dry leaves not the green ones, okay?”

  “I understand,” he said.

  It was the time of day between the sun and the stars when Laiden finally returned. A peaceful time when the Wind God usually takes a break and the animals become active. Dethina and Ferf sat on the log together. Dethina was smiling at something Ferf had said. Laiden felt a cut of jealousy. He had been unable to bring her out of her melancholy. But Ferf, the ground crawler, was able to make her happy with his endless blather.

  The cord that Dethina had finished lay wound up in a coil. Laiden looked at it. Although beautifully worked, it was only twice his height. It needed to be much longer to trade for the boots. He wanted to insert himself into the conversation, so he picked a leaf out of the bag and handed it to Dethina. “How’s this?” he asked.

  She took a few moments to examine the dry leaf. “Perfect.” She smiled, seemingly in a happy mood. “They need to be damp when I work them. Will you please soak them for me?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Laiden found a pottery bowl that he could use, but the water jug was empty. He would have to fill it. He resented Ferf all over again. The man had probably been lazing about all day doing nothing but eating and drinking. Laiden sulked all the way to the pond. But, when he arrived, he was pleased that he had come. In his haste to pick the sword leaves, the sawtooth edges had nicked his hands in several places and they ached. He soothed the cuts in the cool water of the stream while the gurgling music calmed his bruised ego.