Read Online Shadow Valley by Steven Barnes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Barnes
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streams and the rise of untrod hillocks. Now, each day brought new horizons, new lessons, lessons passing too swiftly for even the keenest mind to absorb them all.
“This is your son?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Frog said. “He is Medicine Mouse.”
“A fine boy.” Bat Wing prodded at the infant. Mouse clamped his tiny soft fingers over the tip of Bat’s finger as he waggled it gently. “He has strong hands and feet. He will walk far and kill many zebra.”
Bat Wing pulled back on his hand, teasing, and seemed genuinely delighted as Mouse gurgled and held on more tightly.
“Where is your father?” Frog asked.
Pain flashed across Bat’s face. “He died fighting the Mk*tk.”
A flash of shared pain, like dry lightning in a summer sky. The boy’s grief ripped open the memory of the war, of that terrible night of blood and blindness, when men struggled with monsters for the land they loved and the families they cherished.
So many had died that night. More Mk*tk than Ibandi had died, to be certain. Frog felt a fierce surge of pride: that night men had broken beasts!True, Ibandi had outnumbered the giants three to one, but they had triumphed. Didn’t that count? Didn’t that mean anything at all?
If the death of this young boy’s father could hold some small meaning, the world itself might not seem so empty and cold.
Frog clasped Bat’s shoulder. “Then he is atop Great Sky.” What harm in such a small lie?
Bat Wing scratched at the bald spot over his right ear, as if deciding whether or not to answer. “Yes. I know. Sometimes I see his face in the clouds.”
Frog’s ears tingled with disbelief. “What did you say?”
Bat Wing poked at the dust with his toes. “I am sorry.” He started to turn away. “I am a fool.”
“No!” Frog said. “Tell me what you said.”
The boy stared at the ground as if searching for a lost toy. “I should not have said it.”
“Listen to me,” Frog said. “I want to hear you. Your words were good.” He cupped the boy’s chin in his hand. “Never be ashamed of your thoughts. I spent too many winters fearing what I heard in my head—” he tapped his temple with a finger “—what I saw in my dreams. Tell me.”
Within a heartbeat, the boy’s face melted from doubt to cautious optimism. “I … it is just that when I look at the clouds in a certain way …” He trailed off, perhaps still doubting Frog’s sincerity. “I can see an ear
there—
” he pointed at a rounded, fluffy edge “—and the shape of an eye.”
Of all the strange things that Frog might have seen or heard that day, this was the very last he might have expected. “Have you always seen this?”
Bat nodded and then drew back. “Am I bad?”
Frog seized Bat Wing under the armpits and lifted him up to the sky. For as long as he had drawn breath, he had been the only one who saw the faces in the clouds or heard songs in the wind. Frog felt as if a stone had been rolled from his heart. “No! This is very,
very
good. Now tell me … what else can you see?”
“There—” Bat Wing pointed at a cloud squatting near the horizon “—a mountain.” His finger shifted toward one that nearly eclipsed the sun. “A deer.”
“Yes,” Frog said, his heart full and warm. “Yes, I can see it.”
“You can?” The boy squinted doubtfully. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No,” Frog said. “I laugh because my heart is happy. You have no father. Do you have an uncle?”
“Two. But both remained in the shadow. Only my mother walks with me,” Bat said.
Frog hugged the boy, felt Bat Wing’s strong young heart dancing against his own. “Then if you will have me, you are now my nephew.” He rubbed the tips of their noses together. “Those who see strange things should be family together. From now on, you will walk with me, if you wish. Would you have me?”
The boy’s eyes gleamed. “Uncle” was the only word he could say.
Chapter Nine
The evening shadows had merged into
“This is your son?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Frog said. “He is Medicine Mouse.”
“A fine boy.” Bat Wing prodded at the infant. Mouse clamped his tiny soft fingers over the tip of Bat’s finger as he waggled it gently. “He has strong hands and feet. He will walk far and kill many zebra.”
Bat Wing pulled back on his hand, teasing, and seemed genuinely delighted as Mouse gurgled and held on more tightly.
“Where is your father?” Frog asked.
Pain flashed across Bat’s face. “He died fighting the Mk*tk.”
A flash of shared pain, like dry lightning in a summer sky. The boy’s grief ripped open the memory of the war, of that terrible night of blood and blindness, when men struggled with monsters for the land they loved and the families they cherished.
So many had died that night. More Mk*tk than Ibandi had died, to be certain. Frog felt a fierce surge of pride: that night men had broken beasts!True, Ibandi had outnumbered the giants three to one, but they had triumphed. Didn’t that count? Didn’t that mean anything at all?
If the death of this young boy’s father could hold some small meaning, the world itself might not seem so empty and cold.
Frog clasped Bat’s shoulder. “Then he is atop Great Sky.” What harm in such a small lie?
Bat Wing scratched at the bald spot over his right ear, as if deciding whether or not to answer. “Yes. I know. Sometimes I see his face in the clouds.”
Frog’s ears tingled with disbelief. “What did you say?”
Bat Wing poked at the dust with his toes. “I am sorry.” He started to turn away. “I am a fool.”
“No!” Frog said. “Tell me what you said.”
The boy stared at the ground as if searching for a lost toy. “I should not have said it.”
“Listen to me,” Frog said. “I want to hear you. Your words were good.” He cupped the boy’s chin in his hand. “Never be ashamed of your thoughts. I spent too many winters fearing what I heard in my head—” he tapped his temple with a finger “—what I saw in my dreams. Tell me.”
Within a heartbeat, the boy’s face melted from doubt to cautious optimism. “I … it is just that when I look at the clouds in a certain way …” He trailed off, perhaps still doubting Frog’s sincerity. “I can see an ear
there—
” he pointed at a rounded, fluffy edge “—and the shape of an eye.”
Of all the strange things that Frog might have seen or heard that day, this was the very last he might have expected. “Have you always seen this?”
Bat nodded and then drew back. “Am I bad?”
Frog seized Bat Wing under the armpits and lifted him up to the sky. For as long as he had drawn breath, he had been the only one who saw the faces in the clouds or heard songs in the wind. Frog felt as if a stone had been rolled from his heart. “No! This is very,
very
good. Now tell me … what else can you see?”
“There—” Bat Wing pointed at a cloud squatting near the horizon “—a mountain.” His finger shifted toward one that nearly eclipsed the sun. “A deer.”
“Yes,” Frog said, his heart full and warm. “Yes, I can see it.”
“You can?” The boy squinted doubtfully. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No,” Frog said. “I laugh because my heart is happy. You have no father. Do you have an uncle?”
“Two. But both remained in the shadow. Only my mother walks with me,” Bat said.
Frog hugged the boy, felt Bat Wing’s strong young heart dancing against his own. “Then if you will have me, you are now my nephew.” He rubbed the tips of their noses together. “Those who see strange things should be family together. From now on, you will walk with me, if you wish. Would you have me?”
The boy’s eyes gleamed. “Uncle” was the only word he could say.
Chapter Nine
The evening shadows had merged into
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