Read Online Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear - Free Book Online
Authors: W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear
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the future for us, we will know where and when they plan to attack us. Then we can prepare to fight them.” She bowed her head for a long moment. “Walleye’s search party failed. Someone has to try again.”
Grandfather looked at Puffer with shiny white eyes.
“Be careful. The trails will be muddy. And Cobia will not be happy to see you. You know that, don’t you? When she left here twenty summers ago, she said she’d kill anyone from Buffalobeard Village who tried to find her.”
“Yes, Elder, I know.” Puffer stood up. “If she chooses to kill me, at least I won’t have to worry about what the Thornback raiders are up to.”
Grandfather stood and embraced Puffer, saying, “I pray the Spirits watch over you. And don’t worry: While you are away, we will start building a rock wall around the village. It won’t be much, but at least our warriors will have something to hide behind to launch their spears.”
“Thank you, Elder. We’ll try to be home tonight before the Buffalo Way ceremony starts. Then, tomorrow, I’ll assign every warrior the task of helping to build the wall.”
They patted each other on the back.
When Puffer turned and walked away, Grandfather’s blind eyes followed her. He shook his head, as though deeply troubled.
Puffer walked to meet her deputy, Black Star, who stood with the rest of the war party at the lakeshore trailhead. Black Star was Grizzly’s father, and a muscular man with massive shoulders. Puffer spoke to the party briefly; then she led the way up the trail at a trot. None of them looked happy.
“Now we can go see him,” Twig said, and trotted for her grandfather, calling, “Hello, Grandfather!”
Yipper charged forward with his tail wagging.
Halfmoon turned, and squinted hard, as though trying to see her. “Twig? Is that you?”
“Yes, Grandfather. It’s Twig and Greyhawk.”
Grandfather knelt and opened his arms. Twig ran into them, and he hugged her. “How are you today, my beautiful granddaughter?”
“Fine. How are you? Are your eyes better?”
Grandfather smiled sadly. “No, they get more and more blurry every day—though I see a little better after Father Sun goes down.” He turned to Greyhawk. “And how are you, young warrior? Are you practicing with your atlatl and spears?”
“Yes, Elder Halfmoon. I practice every morning and night. I’m getting better, but I can’t slice the ear off a wolf at a hundred paces like you can.”
“That was in the old days. Today, I can’t even see a wolf at a hundred paces.” Grandfather sat down on the mat before his fire again. “Come, children. Sit down. I have some roasted fish left from breakfast if you’re hungry. It’s there, in that bowl.” He pointed to the wooden bowl that rested on the hearthstone, keeping warm.
They both sat down cross-legged beside the fire, and Greyhawk reached into the bowl for a chunk of white fish meat. He smelled it first, took a bite, and gave Yipper a bite, which the dog choked down in one swallow.
Twig licked her lips nervously, trying to muster the bravery to ask Grandfather to take her to see Cobia.
“What’s wrong, Twig?” Grandfather asked. “You’re being very quiet.”
Instead of getting to the point, she said, “Mother told me I could never go to see Screech Owl again, but I have to, Grandfather. He needs me. I don’t understand why she doesn’t like him.”
A gust of wind blew Grandfather’s graying black hair around his wrinkled face as he said, “She did like him. Once. A long time ago. I don’t know what went wrong between them, but it happened before you were born. Is she afraid he’ll turn you into a slug?”
Twig laughed. “Maybe.”
Around a mouthful of fish, Greyhawk said, “What did Screech Owl do to get banished from the village? It must have been really bad.”
Grandfather picked up a stick and prodded the fire, which caused sparks to crackle and spin upward in the morning air. When his sleeves pulled back, Twig saw the
Grandfather looked at Puffer with shiny white eyes.
“Be careful. The trails will be muddy. And Cobia will not be happy to see you. You know that, don’t you? When she left here twenty summers ago, she said she’d kill anyone from Buffalobeard Village who tried to find her.”
“Yes, Elder, I know.” Puffer stood up. “If she chooses to kill me, at least I won’t have to worry about what the Thornback raiders are up to.”
Grandfather stood and embraced Puffer, saying, “I pray the Spirits watch over you. And don’t worry: While you are away, we will start building a rock wall around the village. It won’t be much, but at least our warriors will have something to hide behind to launch their spears.”
“Thank you, Elder. We’ll try to be home tonight before the Buffalo Way ceremony starts. Then, tomorrow, I’ll assign every warrior the task of helping to build the wall.”
They patted each other on the back.
When Puffer turned and walked away, Grandfather’s blind eyes followed her. He shook his head, as though deeply troubled.
Puffer walked to meet her deputy, Black Star, who stood with the rest of the war party at the lakeshore trailhead. Black Star was Grizzly’s father, and a muscular man with massive shoulders. Puffer spoke to the party briefly; then she led the way up the trail at a trot. None of them looked happy.
“Now we can go see him,” Twig said, and trotted for her grandfather, calling, “Hello, Grandfather!”
Yipper charged forward with his tail wagging.
Halfmoon turned, and squinted hard, as though trying to see her. “Twig? Is that you?”
“Yes, Grandfather. It’s Twig and Greyhawk.”
Grandfather knelt and opened his arms. Twig ran into them, and he hugged her. “How are you today, my beautiful granddaughter?”
“Fine. How are you? Are your eyes better?”
Grandfather smiled sadly. “No, they get more and more blurry every day—though I see a little better after Father Sun goes down.” He turned to Greyhawk. “And how are you, young warrior? Are you practicing with your atlatl and spears?”
“Yes, Elder Halfmoon. I practice every morning and night. I’m getting better, but I can’t slice the ear off a wolf at a hundred paces like you can.”
“That was in the old days. Today, I can’t even see a wolf at a hundred paces.” Grandfather sat down on the mat before his fire again. “Come, children. Sit down. I have some roasted fish left from breakfast if you’re hungry. It’s there, in that bowl.” He pointed to the wooden bowl that rested on the hearthstone, keeping warm.
They both sat down cross-legged beside the fire, and Greyhawk reached into the bowl for a chunk of white fish meat. He smelled it first, took a bite, and gave Yipper a bite, which the dog choked down in one swallow.
Twig licked her lips nervously, trying to muster the bravery to ask Grandfather to take her to see Cobia.
“What’s wrong, Twig?” Grandfather asked. “You’re being very quiet.”
Instead of getting to the point, she said, “Mother told me I could never go to see Screech Owl again, but I have to, Grandfather. He needs me. I don’t understand why she doesn’t like him.”
A gust of wind blew Grandfather’s graying black hair around his wrinkled face as he said, “She did like him. Once. A long time ago. I don’t know what went wrong between them, but it happened before you were born. Is she afraid he’ll turn you into a slug?”
Twig laughed. “Maybe.”
Around a mouthful of fish, Greyhawk said, “What did Screech Owl do to get banished from the village? It must have been really bad.”
Grandfather picked up a stick and prodded the fire, which caused sparks to crackle and spin upward in the morning air. When his sleeves pulled back, Twig saw the
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