prepare you to cross the bridge to the afterlife.”
The light flared, then faded to near nothingness, and trembled. “Am I dead?”
“Do you see your shadow?”
“Yes.”
“It is the connection point between light and dark, between this world and the next. Once you’ve been prepared for the journey, it will lead you across the bridge to the afterlife, where your new life will begin.”
He slipped his hands beneath her body and lifted it into his arms. She was feather-light. As he walked toward a high point overlooking the river, her crooked broken legs shook limply. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain the Spirit light was following. It was not easy to look upon your own death.
The light bobbed a few paces behind.
He climbed the low hill and placed her on top in the middle of a sunlit crystalline forest. The iced branches cast lacy patterns over her. He did his best to straighten her arms and legs and arrange her head so that she could watch the sky turn. “They’ll be coming for you very soon. You must remain close to your body, though, so you don’t get lost. Do you understand?”
As he rose and walked down the hill, heading back toward the river, the small bright light moved to hover over the little girl’s body. Both cast shadows—the dead body and the soul light.
That was all that mattered now. It was all that ever mattered.
Sonon headed west, taking shelter in his own shadow, letting it guide his steps.
Seven
E lder Brother Sun had long ago crested the forest canopy, but the council house had not yet given up its deep cold. Hiyawento rubbed his arms beneath his heavy moosehide cape. Sunlight streaming down from the smoke hole forty hands above the central fire created swirling patterns in the thick bluish gray smoke that filled the house. He watched them for a time, as the representatives from the other villages entered. They all tried to arrive at the same time, so as not to force any village to suffer the indignity of waiting for others, but delays occurred. Today, the contingent from Riverbank Village came in last. Many were exhausted warriors, their capes still coated with the dust of the trail. Wearing grim expressions, they stripped off their weapons belts, unslung their bows and quivers, and placed them along the south wall near the entry. After the brilliance of the autumn dawn, it took time for their eyes to adjust to the dim council house. Finally, they proceeded sunwise around the fire to take up their proper positions. Before they sat, they turned, and each gave a respectful nod to the matrons sitting together on the east wall.
The six old women were the true decision makers. As the leaders of the Wolf, Bear, Deer, Snipe, Hawk, and Turtle clans, they would listen until all was said and done here today; then they would take the issues back to the other village matrons, who would in turn discuss them with every member of their clans before rendering a decision as to how to proceed. Each wore a cape painted with the sacred symbols of her clan.
Hiyawento and his deputy, Kallen, sat on the log on the north side of the fire. To his right were the Riverbank Village representatives, and to his left sat the people of Turtleback Village. Directly across the fire, the council members from Atotarho Village, including the evil chief himself, continued to stand together whispering. As the leader of the entire nation of the People of the Hills, Atotarho would be the last to take his seat, which was difficult for him since he suffered from the joint-stiffening disease that had so twisted his fingers and legs they appeared malformed. He had seen sixty-four summers pass, each more difficult than the last.
Hiyawento’s gaze lingered on the council members from Riverbank Village. Towa should have been here. He wasn’t. Originally from Atotarho Village, Towa had married and moved to Riverbank Village eight summers ago. He was a Trader and usually off on some wild expedition. Only recently had
The light flared, then faded to near nothingness, and trembled. “Am I dead?”
“Do you see your shadow?”
“Yes.”
“It is the connection point between light and dark, between this world and the next. Once you’ve been prepared for the journey, it will lead you across the bridge to the afterlife, where your new life will begin.”
He slipped his hands beneath her body and lifted it into his arms. She was feather-light. As he walked toward a high point overlooking the river, her crooked broken legs shook limply. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain the Spirit light was following. It was not easy to look upon your own death.
The light bobbed a few paces behind.
He climbed the low hill and placed her on top in the middle of a sunlit crystalline forest. The iced branches cast lacy patterns over her. He did his best to straighten her arms and legs and arrange her head so that she could watch the sky turn. “They’ll be coming for you very soon. You must remain close to your body, though, so you don’t get lost. Do you understand?”
As he rose and walked down the hill, heading back toward the river, the small bright light moved to hover over the little girl’s body. Both cast shadows—the dead body and the soul light.
That was all that mattered now. It was all that ever mattered.
Sonon headed west, taking shelter in his own shadow, letting it guide his steps.
Seven
E lder Brother Sun had long ago crested the forest canopy, but the council house had not yet given up its deep cold. Hiyawento rubbed his arms beneath his heavy moosehide cape. Sunlight streaming down from the smoke hole forty hands above the central fire created swirling patterns in the thick bluish gray smoke that filled the house. He watched them for a time, as the representatives from the other villages entered. They all tried to arrive at the same time, so as not to force any village to suffer the indignity of waiting for others, but delays occurred. Today, the contingent from Riverbank Village came in last. Many were exhausted warriors, their capes still coated with the dust of the trail. Wearing grim expressions, they stripped off their weapons belts, unslung their bows and quivers, and placed them along the south wall near the entry. After the brilliance of the autumn dawn, it took time for their eyes to adjust to the dim council house. Finally, they proceeded sunwise around the fire to take up their proper positions. Before they sat, they turned, and each gave a respectful nod to the matrons sitting together on the east wall.
The six old women were the true decision makers. As the leaders of the Wolf, Bear, Deer, Snipe, Hawk, and Turtle clans, they would listen until all was said and done here today; then they would take the issues back to the other village matrons, who would in turn discuss them with every member of their clans before rendering a decision as to how to proceed. Each wore a cape painted with the sacred symbols of her clan.
Hiyawento and his deputy, Kallen, sat on the log on the north side of the fire. To his right were the Riverbank Village representatives, and to his left sat the people of Turtleback Village. Directly across the fire, the council members from Atotarho Village, including the evil chief himself, continued to stand together whispering. As the leader of the entire nation of the People of the Hills, Atotarho would be the last to take his seat, which was difficult for him since he suffered from the joint-stiffening disease that had so twisted his fingers and legs they appeared malformed. He had seen sixty-four summers pass, each more difficult than the last.
Hiyawento’s gaze lingered on the council members from Riverbank Village. Towa should have been here. He wasn’t. Originally from Atotarho Village, Towa had married and moved to Riverbank Village eight summers ago. He was a Trader and usually off on some wild expedition. Only recently had
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