by Andrea Jones
“Then you still wish to leave aboard Captain Cecco’s ship? We expect the pirates here the last few evenings of their stay, to say their goodbyes. We will miss their company.” Lelaneh chuckled, adding, “But we expect some happy nights before they sail.”
“The village will host a celebration, too, before Rowan and Lightly’s return. It will be a feast in tribute to Walking Man. He has been persuaded to retire from the council.”
“And the old man will be treated with honor instead of humiliation. It is fitting.” Touched, Lelaneh sat back, and tears glistened in her eyes. Her voice faltered with emotion. “Another good change on the part of the elders.”
Raven, too, was moved by the People’s kindness, and by the role her brother-in-law played in encouraging it. Behind his iron eyes, she had always sensed the strength of generosity. She hoped that Lily and Red Fawn would soon be welcomed home, too. “Lelaneh, should all three of you be restored to your status, would you then return to the village?”
The woman observed the bounty of the Clearing around them and, wistful, she answered, “It is a funny thing, Raven. Much as we three Outcasts loved our lives among the People, we love our independence more. Nor do we wish to separate the children from their new fathers, whom we love, and who care so well for us all.”
“Is Red Fawn truly happy here?” Raven remembered her own difficulty in evading Lean Wolf’s maneuvers. Judging by the panic his presence imbued in herself, she could easily believe that his former wife, who had fled here to seek safety from him, felt compelled to shun him still.
“For reasons I think you understand, Red Fawn will never rejoin the tribe. Lean Wolf ever hounds her, and she has good grounds to fear him. She ventured abroad this afternoon only because we have assurance that he is occupied at the Lagoon. But what of your own plans, Raven? It is clear that White Bear is not yet aware that you intend to leave his tepee.”
“I will tell him this afternoon.” Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed, “Somehow.”
The underbrush crackled, and sharp sounds of panting came from the edge of the Clearing. The women whipped around to see Red Fawn tearing her way through the bracken. Her lower body was naked, and, below the swinging fringe of her blouse, her slender thighs showed scratched and bruised. Through the tangled hair across her face, her wide eyes searched for her companions. Once she gained the grassy circle, she herself remained silent, shivering; it was Raven and Lelaneh who cried out.
From their workshop, the two Men of the Clearing came sprinting. White Bear and Rowan bolted from the tepee, Rowan clutching his tomahawk, and White Bear gripping his knife.
The men took one look at Red Fawn. Then, in the manner of trackers, they hunched low to slip through the bracken. In uncanny quiet, all four vanished to search through the wood.
Lelaneh rushed to gather Red Fawn in her arms while Raven brought the blanket. Draping it around Red Fawn, Lelaneh turned to beg Raven, “Please, fetch Lily from the stream— but do not frighten the children!”
And, once again, Raven ran from the Clearing. This time, the focus of her fear was not her brother-in-law, White Bear. She remembered the reason for Red Fawn’s troubles, and she, too, feared a silent hunter.
Another taboo had been broken. Like the custom itself, an Invisible was violated.
✽ ✽ ✽
“I intended for Lean Wolf to lie insensible till sunset.” Horrified, Jill stood with her back to the Island, the slanting sun casting her figure in silhouette against the beveled windows of the commodore’s cabin. In agitation, she twisted her opal and diamond necklace. “I should have let him swill that green-apple wine.”
Hook’s teeth were set, and his nostrils flared in fury. “Another attempt to despoil a woman— another woman I pledged to protect.”
“The man has the strength of an ox,” Jill exclaimed. “Lelaneh could only guess how much of the draught to administer. Unlike my second husband, she never before prepared such a potion.”
Lightly, who had delivered the bad tidings, went on with his tale. “I knew Lelaneh had doubts about the dose, so when my instincts told me Red Fawn had been gone too long, I went after her. I found her just in time. She was struggling with Lean Wolf. He’d ripped her skirt away, and he was warning her to keep silent. He struck her, too. It was obvious what was going to happen next.”
“And you stopped him? How?”
“He and I exchanged insults earlier, and I thought it best not to let him see me. I shot an arrow his way, but kept hidden in the trees. When he loosed his grip to look for the witness, Red Fawn seized her chance to run. A few more arrows kept him from the chase.”
Hook gave a brisk nod. “You judged well not to challenge him.” He turned a severe look on Jill. “ ‘Red Hand’ would be wise to do the same.”
“Say what you will, Hook. I have won Lean Wolf’s trust.”
Her son asked, “Then your picnic at the Lagoon went as planned?”
“Indeed. Lean Wolf has no cause to doubt my devotion. He took the bait, and collapsed as soon as I got him undressed. I had to wait for Hook to free me, and Lean Wolf was senseless as we dragged him, on the quilt, to the cave.” She sighed in relief, taking Lightly’s hand in her own. “I am grateful to you for ensuring Red Fawn’s safety. She is a friend to me, and I’d hoped by my actions to help her, rather than hurt her.”
“She didn’t want to concern you, Ma’am, but I told her that in order to keep ahead of him, you have to be informed. She’s still badly shaken.”
Hook snatched up his black velvet coat. “I shall speak with her.” His blue eyes turned icy, and his stare penetrated Jill with its cold. “Since I swore I’d not kill the villain, lending comfort to his victim is the least I can do.” He strode to the door and wrenched it open. “Mr. Nibs, Mr. Tootles,” he called. “You shall accompany me to the Island.”
Jill stood firm. “My revenge advances. The man will collect his reward.”
Hook scoffed. With one boot over the threshold, he demanded, “Have you any more of Lelaneh’s concoction?”
“By the Powers, no! I poured it out as we passed over Neverbay.”
“You should have preserved a measure, to dose Captain Cecco. He shall be infuriated at the risks you insist on taking.”
Jill stepped forward from the window, where Hook could clearly see her face. She had gone paper pale.
His tone froze her blood. “I leave you to deal with Cecco, my dear. If I may employ so crude a cliché, you made your bed. Now you may lie in it— with your barbarous husband.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“I have long suspected that Lean Wolf keeps some secret shelter. I believe that he has retreated there now, and we need not fear an interruption from him.”
Raven was relieved to hear White Bear’s reassurance. So little time remained to share his company, and to inform him, at last, of her impending departure. Only now did she realize that the threat Lean Wolf posed to her had been eclipsed by her efforts to guard her sister’s happiness. Today, though, with Red Fawn’s fright, the Silent Hunter rekindled Raven’s dread with a vengeance.
As the four men had backtracked along Red Fawn’s path to search for her assailant, they met Lightly winging his way toward the Clearing with a precautionary arrow nocked in his bow. He hurried back with them, to see how Red Fawn fared. After hearing his account of the attack, White Bear and Raven took their leave of the Clearing so that its people might comfort the woman, and restore a sense of calm for the children.
Without the sanction of the council, White Bear made no promise of justice to Red Fawn, nor, after the first glimpse of her in her distress, did he appear to see either Red Fawn or Lily. Although he was bound by tradition not to speak to the Outcasts, nor to speak of them, his face set in grim lines as he and Raven departed, and Raven believed he was deliberating on the proper action to recommend to the elders. Lean Wolf himself was still a member of the tribe. He might confine his worst impulses to Outcasts— or he might be a danger to any woman on the Island. R
aven’s worries for Willow gained more urgency.
As a token of the elders’ good will, White Bear left the peace pipe in Rowan’s care, until the two formerly outcast braves should be prepared to resume their places among the People. Naturally, the couple refused to leave the Clearing until they could be certain that the predator who preyed upon a member of their circle was restrained. The pipe would be warmed again only when order was restored, and the young men reunited with the tribe.
Raven’s resolve to leave the Island did little to reduce the anxiety Lean Wolf instilled in her. His abuse of Red Fawn, an Invisible, proved that the man was not only ruthless, but lawless. Who knew what malice Lean Wolf felt for White Bear, who had destroyed his hopes of marriage to Raven? What harm to White Bear— or to White Bear’s family— might Lean Wolf contrive? These questions caused Raven to shudder.
White Bear, too, was thinking of the welfare of the village and its inhabitants. “It is proven, today, that the tribe has need of the Messengers. I do not begrudge them a few more days at the Clearing. In guarding their charges, Rowan Life-Giver and Lightly of the Air show themselves worthy of the People’s confidence.”
“The People will feel safer once our Messengers return—” The words ‘to us’ hovered upon Raven’s tongue. They remained unspoken. White Bear looked at her, questioning, but restrained his curiosity until they reached the destination to which Raven guided him.
White Bear was pleased that Raven remained levelheaded during the rush of trouble. He sensed her uneasiness, but she did not interrupt his thoughts while they hiked. Like him, she desired this time together, and she had requested that he accompany her to a special place on the Island. As they gained distance from the Clearing, his musings turned more pleasant. He followed Raven along a trail in the wood, wide enough for one pair of moccasins and barely visible in the grasses. Just as he’d done the first time he pursued Raven, White Bear studied her grace, finding himself captivated by this woman’s form, by her movement, and by the mettle that led her in directions so divergent from other wives of the tribe. Her sister Willow had never challenged White Bear’s convictions, nor had she engaged his mind as fully as this woman. White Bear’s heart swelled again to think of her as his. With both his being and his body, he anticipated the end of this trail.
Gradually, the path sloped upward, and the air held the scent of pine. The footpath squeezed between tall conifers, and Raven beckoned White Bear to follow her through them. He did so eagerly, now knowing their destination. The pine needles pricked at their arms, and then, as if by magic, the forest disappeared, and a magnificent vista took its place before their eyes. White Bear smiled.
The white rock of the cliff top warmed the soles of their feet. A breeze sent gentle gusts against their faces, scented by the water that lurched far below. To the left, the lines of the two pirate vessels appeared clear and sharp against the oncoming evening. The ships rose in the gentle, sheltered swells of Neverbay, illuminated from the west by the orange light of sunset. To the right lay a sight that, in the days of his youth, White Bear often came here to contemplate: the wide greenish sea, seeming vacant from this vantage point, but leading, surely, toward the home of the tribe of his birth. The Other Island.
He stepped forward to stand near the brink, the long single lock of his hair blowing back from his shoulders. Breathing deep of the open air, he surveyed the view. He thought before he spoke, employing his resolve to allow scope for his new wife’s complexities. He said, “I thank you, Wife, for reminding me of my origins.”
Raven’s spirit took courage from his words, yet she was distracted for a moment, as she noticed movement aboard the larger ship. She recognized the brawny build of Cecco, his headdress glittering as he stamped up a set of steps. He disappeared into the many-windowed cabin in which his wife dwelled with the Black Chief. A bang, delayed by distance, indicated that the door had shut hard. Raven felt for Cecco, who was clearly disgruntled. Once she joined him aboard his ship, she would do her best to console him, as a friend. For now, Raven’s concern could encompass only Willow and White Bear. Encouraged by White Bear’s stillness, she held her peace as he considered the memories to which she had led him.
“Raven.” He kept his coarse voice to the gentler tone he now reserved for her. “If you bring me here to honor me, I am honored. If you bring me here to remind me that I, too, have not always seen eye to eye with the traditions of my adopted People, I stand humbled, acknowledging your wisdom.”
He turned to Raven with a subdued expression she had not witnessed before, and, knowing that this change came of his care for her, she ached with love for him. When he opened his arms to her, she stepped into his hold. His strength and protection surrounded her; his newfound insight touched her heart. She would find it difficult to step away, when the moment of parting arrived.
Resting her head on his chest, she savored the feel of his hand in her hair. He fingered its ends, as if still wondering at her choice to cut it. His skin retained a hint of the tobacco he’d smoked in the peace pipe, a masculine smell that, since Raven’s earliest days as a child in the village, bestowed a sense of safety. Much as she wished to prolong the peace she found in her lover’s arms, Raven reminded herself that time was short. She must not delay. Steeling her nerve, she confessed, with her lips brushing his skin, “You say I am wise. After this night, you may doubt my judgment, just as you used to do.”
The cording of his muscles tightened as he held her, but he listened.
“White Bear. Before you loved me, my spirit moved me to leave this Island. An opportunity to do so opened to me. Very soon, I will travel away from this shore.”
After an agonizing moment, White Bear pushed her to arm’s length, and he glowered at her. This face, she knew, was the sight that enemy warriors beheld, when cringing at the edge of his tomahawk. The bear’s paw print on his cheek matched his aura, while the white line curving down from his eyebrow, endorsing diplomacy, seemed too civil to linger there now.
To forestall his anger, Raven held up her hand. “I undertake this journey for my sister. It is my last, and lasting, gift.”
White Bear’s eyes, which had turned hard once more, narrowed. Again, he strove to make allowance for his skittish new wife. His wrath turned to bafflement; surely he misunderstood. Taming his impulse to chastise, he waited to hear her next words make sense.
“Saying farewell to my tribe and my family seemed a heavy burden before. But now that I have earned your esteem, White Bear, my task is harder still. Yet go I must, for, if I fail, the hurt to Willow will redouble.”
“What are you saying, Raven? You can offer Willow no greater gift than your presence.”
“No. Full of knowledge as you are, I know Willow best, and I know myself. The greatest gift I can bestow…is her husband.”
Taken aback, White Bear searched Raven’s face. He answered with a shade of indignation, “Already, Willow rests secure in our marriage. I will never abandon her.”
“Think. Which of us has occupied your thoughts, these many moons past?”
“Indeed, Raven, you have done so. Because of your widowhood. Because of your need.”
“And my widowhood has passed. The question of my status is settled in your mind. Now think again. In which of your wives do you hope to seed your next child?”
White Bear shook his head. “Raven, these questions are unnecessary. As I told you before, I can provide for the happiness of both of my wives.”
She pressed on, relentless. “Which sister brings serenity? Which brings your blood to the boil?”
White Bear pulled back. Too honest to answer, he sealed his lips.
“I know my own nature. Willow is openhanded with her affection.” Frowning, Raven admitted, “I am not. As I have always known, the role of second wife cannot suit me. If I remain in the shelter of your tepee, I will not yield my hold on you. Instead, I relinquish my claim to you now. I will not stay to see Willow diminished.”
White Bear studied Raven,
assessing her sincerity, yet he knew her too well by now to doubt it. She was no teaser to toy with his emotion. She sought no power. In truth, she did intend the opposite. This declaration meant, simply, and with no guile, that she chose to release her husband from all obligation. He must concede that her intention was genuine. And he could not deny her description of his feelings for his wives. The words came grudgingly, in a growl. “I hear you.”
“As you honor me, White Bear, do not press me with questions. My path is marked out. Trust my instincts, and send me on my quest— if not with your blessing, then at least with your love.”
“No questions! If only as your brother-in-law— and you know how much more than a brother’s affection I feel— my responsibility is to see to your safety. I am your provider. I must protect you, I must oversee your welfare—”
“You must give me a message to relay to your relatives. I go to your homeland, White Bear; I voyage to the Other Island.”
“Voyage…” White Bear shot a glance at the pirate ships. His forehead filled with furrows. “You cannot mean to— Wife, what you propose is forbidden!”
“It was forbidden, when I was a woman of the People. Soon, I will be a woman of the Wider World.”
“Those men are enemies, Raven! Only Outcasts consort with the wild men.”
“Yet the elders have learned that their laws might be faulty. By their own admission, they were mistaken to banish the Outcasts. Lelaneh is recalled now, and Rowan and Lightly forgiven. Perhaps you will help the elders decide soon that, just as proved true with the Outcasts, it is wiser to know one’s adversaries than to battle them.”
Against even his own wishes, White Bear turned his back on his loved one. This woman, whose thinking was so mysterious to him, had become his wife. With a sense of duty, he had accepted her. With a sense of surprise, he had learned that he loved her. And despite his hard-won devotion, grief and anger were her bride-gifts. The notions she proposed were outlandish. The woman had wandered so far from custom that, as of this moment, White Bear believed he could never guide her back. The pain of this realization was sharper than any arrow he’d received from an enemy. He staggered one step closer to the sea.
