Frog said.
“You are wise. It must be true.”
“If Stillshadow dies?” Frog asked.
“Then I become chief dancer. It will be my place to go into the cold spaces, to speak to the
jowk.”
“It seems … so dangerous.” He turned his head away. “You may die.”
“And you will not?”
It felt good to laugh at the old, familiar joke. In times like this they were more than a man and woman bonded by family. More than the leaders of a people. They were friends, something unutterably precious. He had family, but aside from T’Cori, no friends at all. “There have not been many smiles of late.” He paused. “I must speak my heart. I do not want my woman to risk herself.”
“Of course not. And that is probably why dream dancers do not marry.”
“Women are to be protected,” Frog insisted. Why did women, the beneficiaries of this principle, so often misunderstand it?
She made a clicking sound at him. “Hunters risk their lives to bring us fresh meat. Is it so strange that your women risk theirs?”
Frog thought on this. It seemed very different to him. “Yes, strange. Yourisk soul more than flesh. It is not right. I was always taught that men risked their lives so that women would be safe.”
“You think women do not risk their lives bringing new hunters, new mothers into the people?” she asked.
“Yes,” Frog said. “But that is different.”
She slid her small, warm hands over his. He wanted to take her away now, and love her, but did not ask. He could feel that she was sharing something of great importance to her, something she had never said before. “No, my love. It is not. We all die for what we love. A man’s enemies attack from without. A woman’s from within.”
“From within?”
She turned her face away, momentarily unable to respond. Then she whispered her reply. “The Mk*tk were inside me, again and again.” Her haunted voice broke. “They
hurt me
, do you understand? A man’s seed dies if it does not take root. Does Mk*tk seed die?”
Frog felt numb, unable to absorb the words just spoken. “Do you know? Does anyone?” Her words confused him. “What are you saying?”
“Perhaps it lives within me, like a worm. Perhaps it waits. Perhaps this is not your child growing within me. In my dreams, I
see
it. It frightens me.”
When he pressed his hand against her belly, she flinched away. “It is
my
child,” he said.
“Would you swear by Father Mountain?” Her smile soured. “How could you? You don’t even believe.”
For a time they merely faced each other, neither finding the right words.
“I do not believe that your body, which has clasped me so many times, holds anything but love for our people. If there was anything in you that hated us, I would know.”
“Can you be so certain?”
“Yes,” he said. “I can.”
Chapter Fifteen
After the dream dancers sang the new sun to life, after a mushy, flavorless breakfast of yam and crushed nuts, Frog was ready to lead the Ibandi farther north. They would cross the river and try to reach the wavering nut-colored foothills on the horizon. He had raised his hand to call Snake, when the straggly brush at the far side of the camp exploded. A lean-ribbed black boar burst through, an arrow flagging from its side.
God Mountain! Meat!
Uncle Snake and Leopard Eye galloped in after it.
The hog veered away from them, scampering through the camp, its stubby brown legs knocking up pockets of dust. Children were swept out of the way by their mothers and fathers and siblings. “Watch the tusks!” Leopard Eye screamed.
Foam flecked its jowls. Its ribs jutted from its muscular sides as it tossed this way and that, seeking escape. At every turn, a spear point threatened.
The people cheered as it headed into the river. “It’s ours!” Leopard Paw said.
But then, at the very moment it reached the river, the water’s surface burst. A black shadow lunged out of the depths, all teeth and scales and sudden death.
Snake screamed
“You are wise. It must be true.”
“If Stillshadow dies?” Frog asked.
“Then I become chief dancer. It will be my place to go into the cold spaces, to speak to the
jowk.”
“It seems … so dangerous.” He turned his head away. “You may die.”
“And you will not?”
It felt good to laugh at the old, familiar joke. In times like this they were more than a man and woman bonded by family. More than the leaders of a people. They were friends, something unutterably precious. He had family, but aside from T’Cori, no friends at all. “There have not been many smiles of late.” He paused. “I must speak my heart. I do not want my woman to risk herself.”
“Of course not. And that is probably why dream dancers do not marry.”
“Women are to be protected,” Frog insisted. Why did women, the beneficiaries of this principle, so often misunderstand it?
She made a clicking sound at him. “Hunters risk their lives to bring us fresh meat. Is it so strange that your women risk theirs?”
Frog thought on this. It seemed very different to him. “Yes, strange. Yourisk soul more than flesh. It is not right. I was always taught that men risked their lives so that women would be safe.”
“You think women do not risk their lives bringing new hunters, new mothers into the people?” she asked.
“Yes,” Frog said. “But that is different.”
She slid her small, warm hands over his. He wanted to take her away now, and love her, but did not ask. He could feel that she was sharing something of great importance to her, something she had never said before. “No, my love. It is not. We all die for what we love. A man’s enemies attack from without. A woman’s from within.”
“From within?”
She turned her face away, momentarily unable to respond. Then she whispered her reply. “The Mk*tk were inside me, again and again.” Her haunted voice broke. “They
hurt me
, do you understand? A man’s seed dies if it does not take root. Does Mk*tk seed die?”
Frog felt numb, unable to absorb the words just spoken. “Do you know? Does anyone?” Her words confused him. “What are you saying?”
“Perhaps it lives within me, like a worm. Perhaps it waits. Perhaps this is not your child growing within me. In my dreams, I
see
it. It frightens me.”
When he pressed his hand against her belly, she flinched away. “It is
my
child,” he said.
“Would you swear by Father Mountain?” Her smile soured. “How could you? You don’t even believe.”
For a time they merely faced each other, neither finding the right words.
“I do not believe that your body, which has clasped me so many times, holds anything but love for our people. If there was anything in you that hated us, I would know.”
“Can you be so certain?”
“Yes,” he said. “I can.”
Chapter Fifteen
After the dream dancers sang the new sun to life, after a mushy, flavorless breakfast of yam and crushed nuts, Frog was ready to lead the Ibandi farther north. They would cross the river and try to reach the wavering nut-colored foothills on the horizon. He had raised his hand to call Snake, when the straggly brush at the far side of the camp exploded. A lean-ribbed black boar burst through, an arrow flagging from its side.
God Mountain! Meat!
Uncle Snake and Leopard Eye galloped in after it.
The hog veered away from them, scampering through the camp, its stubby brown legs knocking up pockets of dust. Children were swept out of the way by their mothers and fathers and siblings. “Watch the tusks!” Leopard Eye screamed.
Foam flecked its jowls. Its ribs jutted from its muscular sides as it tossed this way and that, seeking escape. At every turn, a spear point threatened.
The people cheered as it headed into the river. “It’s ours!” Leopard Paw said.
But then, at the very moment it reached the river, the water’s surface burst. A black shadow lunged out of the depths, all teeth and scales and sudden death.
Snake screamed
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