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Your idea evaporates almost as soon as it manifests. Coyote may be unbiased compared to Badger Tail, but he is not fit to accompany you on this sort of errand. The aforementioned gaunt faced Indian has stopped with his retinue about ten feet from you, his look expectant and his manner mean. You swallow your pride, something you’ve become accustomed to in the last few weeks, and go to meet him. As you turn to leave you throw out a last parting sentence.
“Ma’am I’ll see yer girl to ‘er place o’ respite, she’ll ‘ave no fear over the journey long as I breathe.”
You wait until Coyote translates, your eyes never leaving his, the Old Woman’s never leaving yours. She makes no gesture and sighs no relief, but some fastening in her brow has unfurled. The air lightens, and she hands you without comment a small, hollow clay egg. You take it from her and place it in a roomy pocket inside your coat. The Young Girl’s head is held up high, but the glistening at each corner of her eyes betray her displeasure with whatever situation you have helped to unfold.
Coyote smiles at you, large and cringing. He tells you in his dissected tone that the Young Girl will join you at the entrance of P’oilkat tomorrow morning. He says it smug and self-satisfied, as if it were by his will. You’re already walking away. You hear him.
“Good. Luck. Campbell.”
To his credit, Badger Tail waits for you patiently, peering into the encroaching night. Finally you join his group and journey back to the village center. On the way he instructs you in the various ceremonies one follows in meeting the Great Chief. No one sits in his house unless invited to, no one asks him a question unless invited to. In fact it were best if you did not speak at all except when prompted by Badger Tail. You may be given a cup of honey water and when you drink it your hospitality will be guaranteed. Your arms will be surrendered, you will doff your coat, and you will obey every order without question.
You are back at the center of the great village. The Chief’s house is larger than any other, but it is no mansion. It is squat, built partially into the ground with a thatch roof and a door of many colored beads. Two great fires burn on either side of the doorway, colors emboss the timbering, mostly blue and red. A great many shells hang from the roof, the windows, and various hooks built into the exterior. More than the shells, what catches your eye are the trinkets. Everyday items ranging from personal knives to children’s toys to carved beads and clay cups. All hang from strings and move like waves in the wind. Badger Tail grabs you roughly on the shoulder.
