People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear Page B

Above, who was his woman? Why was she here? Was she another messenger from chief Cimmis? Blood and tears help them if she was, because any messenger from Cimmis meant trouble.
    He frowned when he neared the Council Lodge. At least two tens
of warriors stood around. Each held a weapon of some sort; all looked nervous as they paced, talking in small groups.
    “Why are so many warriors here?” he asked Pitch in a low voice.
    “As soon as the sentries brought her in, men leaped from their robes and hurried to look at her. That’s when I ran for you.”
    “I want five guards at the Council Lodge”—Rain Bear swung around to face Dogrib—“and the rest dispatched to the high points around the village.” In a harsh whisper, he added, “Cimmis’s warriors could be following on the woman’s heels—and the refugees could be the excuse he needs for an attack. Do you understand?”
    “Rotted dogs,” Dogrib growled as he sprinted ahead. “I should have thought of that myself.”
    Rain Bear took a deep breath and used the moment to look around, searching for anything out of place. He nodded to people who bowed to him and continued toward the Council Lodge.
    Twice as large as an ordinary lodge, the circular Council Lodge measured six body lengths across. It sat at the eastern edge of the village in a copse of leafless alders. The winter-brown leaves were spongy beneath his feet as he approached the entry.
    “I took a quick look inside,” Dogrib said, and drew the leather door hanging aside for Rain Bear to enter. “No one is here but the woman.”
    “I thank you, my friend.”
    A freshly built fire burned in the central hearth and cast a pale amber gleam over the soot-coated walls. Power Boards leaned side by side around the circumference. These were elaborately carved planks painted with the image of a clan totem or family’s Spirit Helper. Every family in Sandy Point Village had a board here. Rain Bear preferred the huge carving of the Light Giver, Raven. In this depiction, Raven had obsidian-bead eyes that glinted in the light and a painted beak as long as Rain Bear’s arm.
    She stood at an angle to him, her face half obscured by a thick wealth of wavy red hair that fell to the middle of her back. He instantly understood Pitch’s comment about her jewelry. Her many bracelets clicked with her slightest move, and her abalone shell pendant was huge, a full hand across. Immaculately carved, the pendant might have been the finest Creation Maze he’d ever seen. Creation Mazes told the circuitous story of how Song Maker had pulled different threads of music from the fabric of his own garments and woven them together to make the world.
    “You are Chief Rain Bear?”
    “I am. And you?”
    She turned to face him, and her polished copper earrings flashed bloodred in the light. Had he ever seen such a beautiful woman? She had bright blue eyes and a perfectly sculpted heart-shaped face. “Where is Dzoo? I am here to see her.”
    “Dzoo’s away … on a Healer’s journey. I don’t think she’ll be back for several days. If you’ll tell me who you are, and what you want, perhaps I can help.”
    The news struck her like a physical blow. The haughty air slipped; her face paled. “Dzoo is gone? Where? Please, I—I have come a long way to find her.” Her struggle to hide the desperation in her voice touched him. Was she ill? Is that why she’d Come? “The last we heard, she was among the Cougar People—at Chief Antler Spoon’s village. A strange fever broke out there. Some time ago, they sent a runner to beg her to come Heal them.”
    Rain Bear crossed the floor toward the fire, knelt, and checked the teapot hanging on the tripod. Empty. There was no Council meeting scheduled, and no one had thought to make tea for her.
    The young woman took three quick steps toward him. “Chief Rain Bear, forgive me, but once I explain, I hope you will understand my fears. I am Evening Star, daughter of Matron Naida, of the Ash