EXCERPT

I SHOULD NOT GO INTO THE WOODS. I won’t be any help with the house posts. I have neither gift nor power. I’m not strong. But maybe if someone is hurt, I have bandages and salves. I can set bones. Realistically, I should stay in the cave with my friend and enjoy the little time we have together. But a foolish part of me wants to win my clan’s approval even as they send me away for being useless. I dull the gleam of my exposed skin with dirt.

The early morning sky is pale gray and the setting moon slides towards the mountains. The cave is halfway up Sleeping Giant Mountain, overlooking the Atlaleedis River that winds through the valley and empties into the ocean. Winter Haven lies below, all our clans’ grand, wooden longhouses lining a curved beach, nestled against the forest and the mountains. The snow is deep. The north wind hums through the trees that creak and moan like old men. The crust of the snow is hard enough that I don’t need snowshoes. I slide and slip my way to the deer path that leads to the stand of grandfather trees.

I hear the master carver shouting annoyed instructions. I look up and study the sky. He’s being too loud. Although I suppose once the tree is felled, it will be such a sound that attracts the Sky People. Bringing them here before the rest of the clan arrives seems foolish, though. But the Sky People have no love of daylight or the warming days. The guards have been dragged into the effort to fall one of the yellow cedars and no one notices as I approach. They should see me as I snag the lower branches of a nearby red cedar and climb as quickly and quietly as I can move, but they’re laying down the leather that will form a flexible sled to get the log down the mountain. I’m uphill from them, so it’s unlikely the tree will fall on me.

In the distance, I see a line of people coming up the mountain. They’ve started off late, probably because the feast ran long. The guards begin to hack off the branches and pull them away. I scan the cloudless sky. The moon touches the mountain tops. The sun has not risen, but there is enough light to make the world a washed-out gray. Maybe we’ll be lucky this time. Maybe the Sky People have all gone south already.

I can see the apprentice nervously feeding the fire set in the chopped-out trunk. The yellow cedar begins to crack and the Master Carver shouts at the men to get out of the way. They scramble over the slick crust as the apprentice leaps back. The trunk holds, though, as we all wait. The apprentice licks his lips. He ducks in to throw more kindling on the teetering trunk and with a great crack, it snaps. A crack like thunder echoes through the valley. The yellow cedar tips and falls with majestic slowness. It hits the ground with a great whoosh and a sprinkling of dusty snow. The Master Carver lays hands on the trunk and mutters a prayer. The apprentice coughs and wipes his face.

The hair on my arms rises, prickling. I sense eyes stuck on me and feel as a child feels the first time they sleep alone and the darkness is filled with every monster from the stories, waiting. The drifting snow pauses mid-air, held by nothing as the wind continues to blow. Growing up with a shaman has made me alert to the uncanny. One of Grandfather’s four spirit familiars is here, probably the Star Moth, the quietest. Grandfather rarely leaves the shaman’s cave. Even in the summer, he lives on the northern part of our beach in a cabin that he built near the taygwis colony. The Master Carver is his childhood friend, and the only reason he’s left his solitude I suppose. The snow drifts again as the spirit leaves. The feeling of being watched ends. Grandfather will expose me when he arrives and send me home with one of my cousins. The only thing Mother and Grandfather agree on is that I am a nuisance.

The men below all work to trim the branches. The Master Carver examines the tree, tapping it and listening to see if its core is solid or rotten. The first group arrives, the chiefs, including Uncle Senagh, and their Firsts. The guest chiefs are here as well and they greet the Master Carver, who is distracted. The great fall has cracked the crust of snow and the log will not slide. They’ll have to wait for the rest of our people to come, for more of those with the gift to move things with their minds.

Kelem and the other novices arrive pulling a sled of food and drink. Everyone gathers around and they murmur as they rummage through the provisions. Kelem hits one of his friends and they play-wrestle like boys until the Master Carver tells them to behave and take forward positions. Others arrive, out of breath from their hike. Kelem stands at the front the log, yawning. His friends sit with their backs against the log, their hands tucked into their armpits, sheltered from the north wind.

A whirr catches my attention. In the shadows of the trees, the largest and hungriest of the Sky People are the jaw eels, whose translucent fangs point inward. Their sinuous bodies glow a dull red, sprouting a spiral of wings that thrum when they move quickly and go flat against their bodies when they dive. Their heads have no eyes, but waving tentacles that twist towards their prey. Their jaws open wider than themselves. They are the fastest divers and cut through the air with shocking speed.

“Jaw eels from the north!” I shout.

“Tky! You stupid girl!” the Master Carver shouts, turning his head to try find me.

“Jaw eels!” I shout as the swarm descends from the trees.

The men scatter, pulling weapons free. Two of the guards with the power to move things with their minds join hands. Above, the jaw eels hit the force of their protective, invisible wall and twist around in frustration, trying to find a way through, pouring around the edges of the power shield. The jaw eels catch the apprentice and twist his limbs. He shrieks as they make wet rips of his flesh, popping his joints. One of them escapes upward with his arm. The apprentice shrieks as he’s eaten and then gurgles into silence. I’m frozen in the branches, stunned still. The chiefs form a circle lifting their hands while guest chiefs run and the jaw eels come down like a cloud. The guards push their power and force the shield upwards, shoving the mass of jaw eels away. The wave of their power shoves the chiefs as well and all hit the log and it rolls, crushing the screaming boys hiding on the other side. Kelem’s foot is caught and he twists in agony. His mouth opens soundlessly.

A small cluster of jaw eels has my future husband and pulls him skyward as he thrashes, rising near me as he’s pulled to his death. I have a terrible moment where I’m relieved. But he is a human, and, even if it means I’ll be exiled, I can’t watch him killed and do nothing. I draw my dagger and throw myself on the cluster when it nears, stabbing and slicing. Their skin splits and their strange blood covers me. The surprise makes them let us go and we tumble through the branches, whipped and bounced and plunging as the men around us scream.