People of the Mist by W. Michael Gear Page B

grass-thatched long house flickered
orange in the jumping light of the flames. Whispers seeped around the
curtain—her mother’s voice low and forlorn, her aunt’s angry.
                 “Panther
take her!” Aunt Threadleaf’s old voice hissed. “She’s shamed us! Her punishment
must be severe!”
                 Sun
Conch placed the branch in the fire and watched the sparks crackle and dance as
they climbed into the evening sky. The Panther, a powerful witch, lived by
himself on an island in the bay. Curses spoken in his name were said to fly
like arrows to his ears, and cause him to cast spells upon the person cursed.
That’s why people only uttered them in the most dire situations.
                 Sun
Conch stared sightlessly at the flames, and wondered what to do. High Fox had
promised to run off with Red Knot. What did it matter now that Sun Conch had
thrown herself at him, that she had pleaded for him to marry her?
                 “We
should outcast her for a time. Let her think on—”
                 “No,
no,” her mother said. “I don’t think we need to be so harsh.” “Then a good
beating is definitely in order. She can’t go on like this. I will not tolerate
this defiance of clan, family, and tradition!”
                 A
cold pain, like an icicle, pierced Sun Conch’s heart. She gazed out across the
plaza. The shaggy houses of Three Myrtle Village stood silent, blue curls of smoke rising
from the smoke holes in their roofs. A palisade, an oval wall of upright posts
twice the height of a man, surrounded the village. Within it, nothing moved.
Nothing breathed. Even the eagles had vanished from the night sky, leaving her
more alone than she had ever been in her four and ten Comings of the Leaves.
                 While
most of the village had gone to attend the Newly Made Woman ceremony at Flat Pearl Village , Sun Conch and her family had been ordered
to remain here. Black Spike had been disgusted by Sun Conch’s behavior. He’d
declared before the entire village that his son, High Fox, had done nothing to
encourage “such an embarrassing incident.” All the while, High Fox had stood at
his father’s side with his head bowed, and his whole anguished heart in his
dark eyes. She had hurt for him. And for herself. How could she have done that?
Just blurted out her feelings in the middle of a plaza filled with people? “You
know why.” She mouthed the words so no one would hear. He’d told her the night
before that. he would not allow his precious Red Knot to marry the old man her
Greenstone Clan had promised her to. He’d said he was going to run away with
her, run all the way to the Father Water if necessary, and never return.
                 Desperation
had wrenched Sun Conch. She’d had to tell him, no matter the cost.
                 Her
aunt’s hoarse whispers grew more insistent, and tears blurred Sun Conch’s eyes.
She pulled a stick from the woodpile and prodded the fire. Blue flames
flickered through the orange, like the fluttering of bluebird wings.
Stalwartly, she kept her tears at bay. She would not cry. Not ever again. The
only time tears did any good was when someone was there to comfort them.
                 “Did
you know of this?” Aunt Threadleaf asked.
                 “That
she had taken to the Weroance’s son? Such arrogance! How could she think that
she, a plain-faced potter’s daughter, could marry into that family?”
                 Sun
Conch shoved her stick into the fire and watched it burn.
                 Her
feelings for High Fox had’ started to change two Comings of the Leaves ago,
after his Blackening. High Fox had been reborn a man, and his steps had turned
lighter, his smile more teasing. He had looked at Sun Conch strangely, his eyes
suddenly luminous, and she had heard his unspoken words as if he’d shouted
them. He could not