A November Sky

Chapter Thirteen

The second of my beeswax candles had burned down to John's palm as I traced the lines of my mother's handprint. The flame flickered. A murmur of voices swelled inside the cave. John stood beside me, frozen. Not us. I blew out the candle and shoved John back with two hands on his chest. I didn't dare speak. I pushed at his chest until he stepped back, and then I kept pushing, urging him to understand, to hide. I stopped, and he kept moving back, his thick black shoes scraping over the stone. The voices were louder now. Echoing. Bells chimed lightly—the SkyKeepers returning to their cave.

There was nowhere to go but out. I briefly thought of hiding at the back of the cave, trying to wait them out. But if they found John, if they knew we'd been alone together, there would be no end to that hurt. I tugged the fur bag higher on my shoulder and strode through the curving cave tunnel. John grabbed at the back of my dress, but I shook him off, hissing, "Wait here."

The flames of the SkyKeepers' torches flickered into existence. I paused, halfway between John and the entrance, and pulled the last candle from my fur pack. I struck the fyrestone against the cave wall and held the candle close, my hand cupped around the wick. Striking until the flame caught, I created from the darkness the curving blue lines of my mother's symbols. I waited there, my candle held close to the newworlder figures seated around our fires.

* * *

The SkyKeepers escorted me to the village, two on each side. I walked on numb feet, their words a buzz at the back of my head, mixing with the tickling of the bells on their swinging sleeves. I didn't have it in me to fight, to worry, to anything. The entire walk to the village, I saw only the blue of my mother's handprint, the painting of the sick trailing into the forest. Wahunsenaca has cast us out. I could not erase the words from my mind.

Dirt turned to sun-bleached clay beneath my feet. The SkyKeepers marched me to the Great Long House, hunching to fit through the sapling doorway. They shoved me forward into the dark of the longhouse, my legs twisting, the fur pack sliding off my shoulder as I hit the ground. Father stood, words flying from his lips, but Kocoum sat silent, waiting for all the details. As the SkyKeepers spoke, Kocoum's fingers clenched on his knee.

"You disturbed a sacred space," my father growled, his words ending on a cough that shook his chest, sending his unadorned black hair spilling over one shoulder.

I stood, my arms shaking. Wahunsenaca has cast us out. "I disturbed a sacred space? You knew what those paintings would mean to me. You kept her from me." My anger was like a stream moving downriver, catching speed. Once unleashed, I couldn't shut it off. Did he think me too weak to handle the truth?

Kocoum held a fist up for silence. "It is my fault, grand councilor. I gave her permission."

I jolted as the SkyKeepers twittered, their sleeves fluttering as they gestured and spoke over one another. Kocoum had given me no such approval. Father glared at Kocoum. "We should have been informed."

Kocoum tipped his chin down. "My apologies. I meant no disrespect. I will see she does not return."

The SkyKeepers settled, their arms falling to their sides. With a grunt, Father sat. That easily, Kocoum had deflated their indignation. I crossed my arms over my chest, holding my elbows. I'd never had the same finesse. Perhaps that's why father had passed me over for chief, giving me the tribe only through Kocoum.

Kocoum stretched his legs and stood. "We are finished for tonight. We will meet again in the morning." He strode from the longhouse, so sure I would follow that he never looked back. Something about that rubbed the fire within me, as if he thought I was his pet. Or his property. One of the SkyKeepers shifted, bells chiming, and I stomped outside. I could still feel the brands of their hands on my arms, dragging me from their precious cave; I certainly wasn't staying with them.