Luck | Page 3

belly to belly for five and three
winters. She eats the meat he brings her. He eats the roots she digs for
him."
"When you find time to hunt," whispered Onion.
"When you dig something besides stones." Thumb gave her a gentle
nudge.
"Thumb needed to make paint for the new cave, which some call the
cleft. For the red, he had to collect blood stones from the shell people's
land. But after bearing a baby that never breathed, his lover became
sick with a fever. He had a hard choice. No one ever wants such a
choice. Thumb loves Onion, but because he loves the people too, he

left her and went to the shell people's land."
Quail gave a low whistle of approval. Thumb was pleased when
everyone joined in. Even Owl. Even Onion. Thumb's cheeks were
warm.
"While Thumb was gone, a stranger came to us. He brought food gifts
of two eels and a badger skin filled with apples, so we welcomed him.
He told us his name was Singer. He was an old man, with white and
gray and not much brown in his beard. He wore a headdress of the
feather people and the deerskins of our people. But he didn't say where
he came from and we didn't ask. Although we are a curious people, we
are also polite."
Owl paused and waited for the laugh.
"When Singer saw Onion bundled by the fire, he told us that she was
going to die. We all thought that he was right. Singer said that he could
use his luck to turn hers, but that we must let him do whatever he
wanted with her. We talked about what he said. It seemed strange that a
man could turn his own luck or anyone else's. But none of us could
help Onion. Finally we let Blue speak for us. He told Singer to use his
luck.
"Singer crushed herbs from his pouch in a wooden bowl, mixed them
with water and gave them to Onion to drink. She went limp but her
eyes stayed open. It was as if her soul had left her body. Then he picked
her up in his arms and carried her to the river. He laid her on the bank
and took off her deerskin shirt and pants. With his two hands he
scooped mud onto her naked body, covering her until all we could see
was her mouth and her nose. There were some of us who thought this
was bad luck." Owl struck his chest with his fist. "Or at least crazy luck.
But we said nothing. When Singer finished with the mud, he began to
sing."
Owl paused, gathered himself. His voice quavered under and around
and sometimes on the notes.

"'Spirits, look at this woman!
I have buried her for you.
She has learned what it is like
in the belly of the earth.
Now you won't have to teach her.
Leave her in the world awhile.
Let her wake with her people.'"
Onion had gone stiff as a tree stump beside him. "Are you all right?"
said Thumb. She nodded and squeezed his hand. With a feeling of
dread, Thumb understood that even though she seemed better, his lover
was still tangled in the stranger's luck.
The effort of singing Onion back to life, even though it was just part of
the story, left Owl exhausted. He sat down abruptly and fell silent.
Bead dipped a dried gourd into a water skin and scrabbled across the
ledge to him. As he drank, she whispered to him. The old man's eyes
were as distant as the ice mountains. The people sat in polite silence for
several moments, waiting for him to begin again. Bead's talk grew
more heated; Thumb could make out words. Lose Foolish Let me!
Finally Owl grunted and pushed her away.
"A fly is buzzing in my ear," he said. "It asks if a woman can tell a
man's story." A few people laughed. Bead's smile was tight. She
scooted backward but did not rejoin those around the fire. Instead she
crouched a few paces away from Owl and waited.
"Then Singer finished his luck song." The storyteller spoke from where
he sat, which made everyone nervous. But it was better that he tell the
story sitting down rather than stop. It was very bad luck to stop in the
middle of a story, especially a story that had no end. "He took off his
own clothes, picked Onion up and waded into the water. When the river

had rinsed her of the mud, he climbed out of the river and dressed her.
Then he kissed her as if she were his lover. She was asleep now, with
her eyes closed. A deep sleep, yes, but