Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear

the bend in the path, she could see that firelight already gleamed around the edges of the door-hanging to their lodge. But Twig smelled something
else. She sniffed noisily. “That’s Mother’s special raspberry tea, Screech Owl.”
    He sniffed too. “Yes, it smells good.”
    Twig gave him a quick look, wondering why her mother would make it for Screech Owl when she wouldn’t make it for Twig except on important occasions. She slipped out from under his arm and trotted for home. As she ducked inside, her head brushed the eagle feathers that dangled from the ceiling.
    “You looked beautiful tonight, Mother,” she said, and ran across the lodge to crawl into her warm buffalo hides.
    Mother smiled. She had changed out of her ceremonial clothing and wore a white doeskin dress with black-and-red starbursts painted on the hem and across her chest.
    “So did you, Twig. I was proud of you. I—”
    Screech Owl called softly from outside, “It’s me, Riddle. Are you ready for me yet?”
    “Come in, Screech Owl. We’re ready. The tea isn’t, but we are.”
    Screech Owl ducked under the lodge flap. He had taken off his mask and was holding it reverently. His gray hair spiked out around his long face. He winked at Twig before crouching by the fire, where the tea bag hung from its tripod. Mother had already added hot rocks to boil it, and the lodge smelled like a raspberry patch.
    Screech Owl smiled awkwardly at Riddle, and she smiled back before rising to fetch the plate of nutcakes.
    “Are you hungry, Twig?” her mother asked.
    “No, just tired.”
    “Then why don’t you try to sleep? Screech Owl and I are going to talk for a while.”
    Twig snuggled deeper into her hides, but she kept her eyes slitted to watch what happened.
    Mother knelt beside Screech Owl and offered him a nutcake.
    “Thank you, Riddle. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of your cakes.” Screech Owl took a bite and said, “They’re as good as I remember.”
    Neither one of them said anything for a long time, and Twig felt the tension rising between them.
    Finally Mother said, “Screech Owl, I wanted to talk to you about something that’s happening. I don’t understand it.”
    His eyes widened. “What?”
    “It has to do with the Thornback raiders. Do you know that Chief Gill sent Puffer and a war party to try and find Cobia?”
    “Yes, Twig told me. Why?”
    Mother sank down to the floor. “Just as the dance began, one man returned: young Searobin. I saw him come in, but of course I couldn’t go to him. I had to lead the dance. In the middle of the dance, Father came to tell me that Puffer and the others are dead.”
    “Oh,” Screech Owl said so softly that Twig almost didn’t hear. Grief twisted his face. “Was it Cobia? Did she kill them?”
    “I don’t know. Father was in a hurry. He barely spoke
to me. He and the chief were on their way to Searobin’s lodge to spend the night hearing the details of what went wrong. That’s why I wanted to talk with you.”
    “Ah, I see. Are you feeling guilty because you didn’t dream about it before they left and warn them? You shouldn’t. Dreamers do the best they can, but they aren’t infallible. They—”
    In a tight voice, Mother said, “Why would Cobia kill them?”
    Screech Owl sat so still that his dark eyes caught the firelight and held it like polished mica mirrors. “I’m not sure she did. She might have, but Puffer’s war party might also have run into the Thornback raiders. In any case, it means Buffalobeard Village has lost many of its best warriors.”
    Mother extended her hands. “What are we going to do, Screech Owl? Tomorrow we’re meeting to discuss whether we should pack up and move the village. Do you think we should?”
    He sighed. “This is a dangerous time. The ice is melting; rivers have swollen to twice their normal sizes. Grandfather Brown Bear is hunting every trail. If we move, many of us could die.”
    “Yes, I know. Have you … have you