These thoughts rolled through my brain as I rose with my armload to return to the house. Frostbite trotted after, keeping close to my heel. Sun Eagle also followed. He did not enter the house after me but lounged in the doorway, watching as I slid the mortar and pestle into place and began rehanging the herbs I had used for the poultice.
“Do you intend to give the dog back to its owner?” he asked.
This took me by surprise. I paused in my task, staring first at him, then down to Frostbite, who sat by my feet. Sun Eagle must have seen how my expression hardened, for he laughed suddenly.
“Ha! Let the lad come get her if he wants her!” he said. “If he has the courage to face you again, that is. That dog is more yours now than she will ever be his. She would tear out his throat at a word from you.”
I blinked and swallowed hard at this forthright statement of my power. I looked down at Frostbite, who raised soulful brown eyes up to me. I could not imagine her in battle now. Not after coming to know her. She could be broken, of course, could lose the truth of her nature and be made into a monster again. But the real dog—the one whose true name I had discovered—was not bloodthirsty.
I knew, though, that Sun Eagle was right. She would die to defend me. And she might kill her former master in the process. I placed a hand on the lurcher’s head and offered a prayer (not to the Beast, who would revel in blood) that Killdeer would have the sense to stay away.
When I raised my gaze to Sun Eagle again, he smiled at me. It was a warm, knowing smile. A smile that made me think perhaps he saw me. Not merely my silent woman self, cursed and little better than a slave. But me, who I was, with all my longings, weaknesses, and even strengths. He smiled, and I was uncertain how to respond to that look from this young man I was to wed.
At last I came to a decision. I smiled in return.
That moment, we heard the first shout heralding my father’s homecoming.
The elders of all the tribes loyal to my father gathered for the betrothal ceremony marking the Crescent People’s return to loyalty. Redclay Village had never before overflowed with so many warriors and revelers alike, and the women of the village were hard-pressed to provide food and drink for the men.
At the center of it all were the Panther Master and Elder Darkwing. I had hardly seen my father since his return, for he and his recent enemy, wary of each other, were in constant company, each unwilling to let the other out of his sight. Slaves were sent up to the Eldest’s House, ordering me to prepare myself for the betrothal rites.
I was given no information as to what preparations I should make. I did my best on my own, with Fairbird and Frostbite both getting underfoot in their muddled attempts to help and to ensure they were not forgotten. I unwrapped my mother’s gown from where it had been stored since her death. She had worn it for her own betrothal, and it was beautiful, I thought. The doeskin was a warm brown, and many colored beads and stones decorated the neck and sleeves. I put it on and, despite Fairbird’s help, arranged my hair.
For five years, I had remained hidden, avoiding the village people. Now I would be displayed before all their unfriendly eyes. I would not allow myself to be shamed.
Three maids and two warriors came to the house at sunset to escort me down to the village. I hated leaving Fairbird behind . . . she had never been alone before. Desperately, I signed to Frostbite to watch over my sister, not knowing how much of the command the dog understood. Then, flanked by the warriors and preceded by the maidens—girls I had once known and played with but who now pretended they did not know me—I was led down into the thick of the revelry.
I caught no sight of Sun Eagle in the throng. Men were laughing and shouting, women were scurrying like silent shadows, girls danced in a ring around a great bonfire, and the young boys who had yet to make their passage into manhood watched them and called raucous remarks. Warriors drank heavily, their stoic faces melting into either jollity or anger. Brawls broke out among some.
If this was the solemn ceremony of betrothal and oath swearing, I wondered what horrors awaited me on my wedding day.
At long last I was brought to the center of it all, amid the noise and clatter and roiling smells. The night was deep and lit red with torches. My father wore a great panther skin across his shoulders, his bare chest painted with red claws. He was noble and terrible, a frightening and foreign figure as he presided over the madness. Darkwing, seated at my father’s feet in the place of a conquered enemy, wore black feathers in a collar around his neck. Like his son, he was a handsome man, but with a cruel line to his mouth that Sun Eagle had not acquired.
My father put out a hand to me, and I went to him, took that hand, and bowed over it. He must have felt how I trembled, for his other hand rested briefly on my head, an almost tender gesture. Then he turned me to face Darkwing, who had risen and stood before us, his mouth still more downturned.
“In pledge of our newfound friendship, I offer you my daughter,” said the Panther Master.
For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought I was being given to this man, not to Sun Eagle. Darkwing turned, however, and drew Sun Eagle forward from the shadows. The sight of the young man’s face, while not dear to me, was such a relief that I smiled at him. He saw my smile and perhaps took it to mean more than I intended. He did not smile in return, but his eyes shone in the torchlight. My stomach dropped and my smile vanished. I wondered if it was dread that I felt. Perhaps it was something else, but I was too frightened and confused in that moment to know. The man who was to be my husband was presented before the Panther Master.
“And I, in token of my loyalty, give you my son,” said Elder Darkwing. “May the joining of our children mark the eternal joining of our nations.” There was bitterness in the elder’s voice but truth as well. He would not turn back on his vows.
Then his eyes fell upon me for an instant. I shuddered under his gaze. I saw in that man’s face everything he would not dare to say aloud.
Curse! his eyes screamed. Blight on your father’s house! And you will curse my son as well!
But he had lost the war to the Panther Master. He must pay the price.
I lowered my gaze and scarcely dared to look up again, even as my hand was joined with Sun Eagle’s and the rites of betrothal were performed by a young, skinny priest in a wolfskin robe. He trembled as he spoke the words, and I saw his hand shake as he sacrificed the goat. The terrible bleating of that animal rang in my head, and I thought I would be sick. But at our wedding, many more awful sacrifices would be given to the Beast, and these would be made by Wolf Tongue himself. How I dreaded that night to come!
Before it could take place, however, Sun Eagle needed to make his passage into manhood. This, I learned, would take place in three days’ time. A week later, when Sun Eagle was officially made a warrior, we would be wed.
But what of the Beast? I wondered. Had he forgotten the bargain he and my father had made? Or—and I trembled at this thought—would he simply take my sister when the time came to collect the debt? My heart began to race. I could not marry! I must not!
And I wondered suddenly if this was my father’s plan all along . . . to spare me from the Beast should he come down from the mountain. For the Beast would never take any but a maiden. If I was married, I would be safe.
Fairbird! My heart cried out desperately inside me so that I could scarcely hear the young priest’s babble or my betrothed’s voice whispering in my ear. Fairbird, my darling! I cannot let this happen!
Yet what choice did I have?
It was deep into the night before the warriors escorted me back to the hill. They left me at my father’s door, and I entered the house so exhausted I could scarcely see straight. I fell over Frostbite, who waited just inside the door. She yelped and snarled, then came back nosing my legs and wagging her tail, cringing as though she expected a blow. Poor creature. I patted her soothingly, then cast about for my sister.
I found her cradled in Wolf Tongue’s arms.
My heart cea
sed to beat. For a moment, I believed I had died and fallen into some dark hell. Then, with a gasp, I flung myself across the room to where the High Priest sat cross-legged before a low fire, my sister sound asleep in his lap. He raised cold eyes to me and put up one hand. I stopped at the gesture as though my feet had grown roots. Everything in me urged to take my sister from him, but fear held me in place.
“Do not wake the child,” he said. His voice was low. I thought it would shatter every bone in my body. He lowered his hand to rest on Fairbird’s head, stroking her hair softly. “She was exhausted from weeping. She was abandoned in the dark.” His eyes flashed at me. “I do not abandon my own. I keep them safe. I keep them close.”
I shuddered. Frostbite pressed against my legs, whining softly.
Wolf Tongue looked at me long and hard. Something in his gaze reminded me of the expression on Sun Eagle’s face only a few hours before at the commencement of our betrothal. I felt as though something dark and feral had fixed its eyes upon my naked spirit. I wanted to turn and run, to flee this house and this man’s presence. But he held my sister. I could not go.
“You have grown, Starflower,” said Wolf Tongue. “You are beautiful indeed.”
My heart leapt in terror. Desperately I swallowed it back. Then, taking a firm step forward, I held out my arms for Fairbird. My eyes said what my tongue could not: Give her to me!
Wolf Tongue, I knew, understood. To my surprise, he stood. He had to bend his head and shoulders to fit beneath the too-low roof, and he seemed a tremendous figure full of dreadful power. But he held out the sleeping child.
“Take her,” he said.
I sprang forward. But even as I took my sister, Wolf Tongue’s hand clamped down on my upper arm. I struggled to pull away, but it was no use. So I stood still, clutching Fairbird to my breast, and felt the High Priest lean down until his breath warmed my ear.
“You have not forgotten your bargain with the Beast,” he whispered. “He gave you back your sister only for a time. Soon he will demand blood.”
I closed my eyes, cringing away from those words. But he took my face in his other hand and forced me to look at him. His eyes were oddly yellow and they glowed in the darkness of the hut. Inhuman eyes, I thought, though their expression was that of the earthiest man.
“The Panther Master knows his sin,” Wolf Tongue said. “If he tries to thwart the will of the Beast, disaster will follow. You will never wed, Maid Starflower. You will not—”
“Wolf Tongue! Unhand my daughter.”
Wolf Tongue’s lips curled back in a snarl as he and I turned to the door. There stood my father, spear in hand, panther skin thrown back across his shoulder. I could not see his face in the darkness, but his stance was ready to attack.
“Eldest,” said Wolf Tongue, and his voice was a growl. “Tell me, what right have you to make demands concerning the Beast’s possessions?”
“She is not the Beast’s. Nor is she yours, priest,” said my father, advancing into the room, his spear at the ready. The glow of the fire struck the stone, turning it red. “Unhand her and leave this house.”
“One of them belongs to my master,” said the priest. He backed away from me, though his hand lingered upon my arm. “One of them must pay the blood price. And soon.”
“Leave this house,” the Eldest repeated. The head of his spear now hovered just before Wolf Tongue’s heart. Wolf Tongue looked down at it. He smiled.
Faster than my eye could follow, he grabbed the stone head. Though it must have torn his hand, he wrenched it from the Panther Master’s grasp. Flinging it into the shadows by the hearth, he turned to my father, his teeth flashing.
“I give you warning now!” he cried. “If you insist on giving away what does not belong to you, you and all your village will suffer. The Beast has spoken. He will not be denied!”
Then his voice softened, becoming sinister in its gentleness. “Do not think I speak without concern. Your people are my people, Eldest. I have shielded them from the Beast’s wrath for many years now, longer than you know. But the Beast is a cruel god when crossed. I cannot stand in his way. Neither can you.”
My father, empty-handed, stood in the darkness, and still I could not read his face. At last he spoke:
“Get out.”
Once more, the priest growled. But when the Eldest took a step toward him, Wolf Tongue slipped around to the door. There he paused and looked back at us one last time. “You have been warned, Panther Master!”
He vanished.
Silence settled upon the Eldest’s House. My father turned to me, but I was afraid and lowered my gaze to my sister instead. I found her wide black eyes staring up at me. I wondered how long she had been awake and how much she had understood. Tears falling down my cheeks, I pressed her close to my heart.
The day before his passage, Sun Eagle came to me in private. I was in the mango grove just below the Eldest’s House, harvesting an early crop, still green, which I would set to ripen in covered baskets away from pests. Though my hands were busy, I struggled to keep my mind from pursuing any of the dark paths before it: the Beast, Wolf Tongue’s threats, my father’s silence. Most of all, marriage and what it might mean for my sister.
To keep these thoughts at bay, I concentrated on the blistering heat of the day, on the sweat gathered on my brow, on the leathery green leaves tickling my face and arms, on the hard skins of the fruit as I plucked them from their clusters.
A shadow fell across me. I looked up into Sun Eagle’s solemn face.
“Starflower,” he said, “I come to beg a boon of you.”
My heart leapt, perhaps with fear, and I nearly dropped the basket balanced on my hip. I cast about for Fairbird, but she was some way up the hill, closer to the house. Only Frostbite was nearby, dozing in the shadow of a silver-branch tree.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
I startled at Sun Eagle’s words and looked up at him quickly. But he wasn’t laughing or mocking. He seemed merely curious. Hastily, I shook my head. I set down my basket, then folded my hands, indicating that I was willing to hear what he had come to say.
“As you know,” he said, “I make my passage tomorrow. I shall descend into the gorge and journey into the Gray Wood. When I have killed a beast and returned with its hide, I will be deemed worthy of manhood.”
I nodded. This was an ancient custom. The only time men entered the forest down in the gorges was at this momentous point in their lives. Some had returned with strange creatures, fabulous beasts with two heads or many horns, and even stranger still! One man, it was said, had come upon a goat with panther’s legs and a mouth full of fangs. But it had never happened in my lifetime. Most of the lads returned with a squirrel or a rabbit, though this did not matter. The courage it took to enter the Gray Wood was enough to make them warriors.
“Your father,” Sun Eagle continued, “has told me to keep his name mark and to carry it with me for luck. An honor I scarcely deserve from a warrior such as he!” A warrior who had bested his father in battle. The honor must be a bitter one for Sun Eagle. “But it would honor me still more,” he continued, “were you to let me bear your name mark as well.”
My hand flew to my throat, where I wore the blue bead painted with a white starflower. My mother had made it for me when I was younger than Fairbird. It was a beautiful piece, more beautiful by far than those worn by the other village girls. My mother had been gifted.
Sun Eagle watched me, his dark eyes intent. He must have known or at least guessed what it was he asked of me. He asked for my trust. He asked for my loyalty. To give him this gift meant so much more than a mere wish of luck.
“Please, Starflower,” he said. And there was that look again, that look as though he knew my true name.
My hands trembled as I reached up and untied the leather cord from around my neck. I hesitated a moment, thinking of my mother’s hands. I had watched them mixing the paint and carefully decorating the little marker. I had watched them str
ing the trinket on this cord and had bounced with excitement when she held it out to me.
I placed it in Sun Eagle’s outstretched hand. He tried to catch hold of my fingers, but I withdrew quickly, though I smiled a little. Then I signed, though I knew he would not understand, words from a song my mother had taught me: “Beyond the Final Water falling . . . won’t you return to me?”
I signed it as a blessing. But Wolf Tongue’s dark threats lurked on the brink of my mind. I shivered as a shadow of foreboding passed over my spirit. When I raised my gaze to Sun Eagle’s, I found his eyes alight. But my own, I knew, held only fear.
“I’ll slay a beast,” said he, clutching the bead in his fist. “And I’ll bring it back to place at your feet. You shall wear its fur as a mantle on our wedding day.”
The next morning I stood beside my father at the edge of the gorge. It was near the place where I had met Sun Eagle not many weeks ago. I held Fairbird’s hand in mine, and she wiggled and squirmed and kept signing to me, “Where is he? Where is he?” She was devoted to Sun Eagle, though shy in his presence.
I told her to be still with a sharp motion of one hand and turned again to watch the scene being played out below. Elder Darkwing and two of his finest warriors escorted Sun Eagle down the narrow gorge path to the river running below. Bear, Sun Eagle’s red dog, followed close behind. There was little room to walk on the riverbank. They needed to tread carefully on sharp wet rocks, for to slip would mean to vanish in the white water. So it was a slow company that made its way along the river’s edge below us to the place where the Gray Wood began.
Darkwing himself drove a stake into the ground and tied to it a stout-woven rope. The other end of this rope was looped securely about Sun Eagle’s waist. A young man who wandered into the Gray Wood without this anchor to secure him would never be heard from again.
The Gray Wood was an unmerciful predator.
Let the rope be sound, I whispered in my heart. Let the stake be solid.
Let the threats of Wolf Tongue be empty as the wind.
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