Despite the easy climate and plentiful food here on the coastal plain, every day Nianki saw families large and small leaving, trudging north. At first she gave it no thought, but when she realized they moved even during the punishing heat of midday when sensible folk took their ease, she began to wonder at the reason.
She was sleeping one night within sight of the beach when the sound of footfalls woke her. Snatching up her spear, Nianki rose swiftly to one knee, ready to strike. Instead of marauding four-footed beasts, she found herself faced by a family of four — an old, white-bearded man, a stocky woman of some thirty seasons, and two children — a boy and girl of six and eight. They carried food and water on a pair of willow-withe travois, the woman dragging one, the children the other.
“Peace to you,” said the old man, holding up both hands to show they were empty. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Where are you going?” Nianki asked.
“The mountains,” said the woman, eyeing the scarred girl warily. “As we must every summer.”
Nianki lowered her spear. “Now? There are beasts abroad in the night.”
“We should have left days ago, but the boy was sick with a flux.” As she spoke, the woman kept sidling away. Nianki moved in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’m a stranger to these parts,” said Nianki. “If there’s danger, I want to know.”
The woman’s eyes darted back and forth. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“When I arrived, people were thick as tadpoles here. Now everyone’s leaving. What are you frightened of?”
“The Good People,” chimed the girl child.
“Shh!” hissed the old man. “Don’t speak their name!”
“Who are ‘the good people’?” Nianki demanded.
The woman tried to barge past. Nianki grabbed her arm. The old man moved to break Nianki’s hold, but he found her spear point pressed into his throat. The young boy dropped his side of the travois and started to cry.
“Be still!” Nianki barked. Her fierce shout startled the boy enough that he subsided to a sniffle. The woman remained rooted where she stood, eyes downcast.
“You,” Nianki said to the old man. “Talk.”
His jaw worked. “Every summer, the Good People come here from the east. They are powerful in spirit, but difficult to deal with. Some use their wisdom to help and heal us. Others treat us like game and hunt us for sport, so every summer we leave the shore and travel to the mountains.”
“What do they look like?”
“They are comely people, graceful and lightly made, yet strong. Their color is not like ours — their skin is very fair, and their hair like a dandelion’s. They wear strange bright clothing and command beasts to do their bidding.”
It sounded like a fable, but they were obviously terrified of something. Nianki moved her spear from the old man’s neck.
“Be off,” she said.
“You’d best leave, too,” the woman warned. “The Good People are not to be trusted. They could take your head for a trophy, as they did my poor mate’s three summers past.”
“I’m fairly warned. Go.”
The children picked up their poles and tugged the travois. Their mother bent her back and pushed on ahead, breaking the trail for them. The old man lingered.
“Fifteen summers past I’d have fought you for this,” he said, fingering the mark on his throat Nianki’s spear made.
“Fifteen summers past I fought only for my mother’s milk.”
He scowled as he hurried after his family. The old man limped badly, hips rocking from side to side as he walked. He must have taken a bad fall once, and the bones had never set properly.
Nianki moved her camp in case the old hunter decided to double back and visit her while she slept. She laid a circle of twigs on the ground around her, overlapping them. If anyone tried to creep up on her, she’d hear them when they trod on the brittle wood.
The remainder of the night passed peacefully. Dawn broke hot and hazy, and Nianki was awakened by itching all over her body. From the welts on her ribs and legs, she knew she’d been found by a host of sand fleas.
She searched wide and far for a stream to bathe in, but fresh water was sadly lacking in the pine barrens above the beach. Scratching furiously, she resolved to wash in the sea. She had never before dared immerse herself in the sea, but it was the only body of water around large enough to cover her, and she couldn’t bear the terrible burning itch — the fleas had even invaded her hair.
Down to the beach she went, shedding her clothes. The cold surf felt wonderful on her tormented skin, and she plunged in head first.
Surfacing, she spat water, surprised by the salty tang. The bites stung a bit, but the itching rapidly subsided. She held her head under for as long as she could stand to drown the miserable insects. When she popped up again, she heard voices coming from the beach.
Far down the shore was a sizable party, twelve or thirteen people with animals. The beasts were easier to make out than the people — tall, four-legged creatures, built like elk but less bulky and without antlers. The animals were walking in the midst of the people, tame and docile.
A screech overhead alerted her to the presence of a falcon. It circled the beach in advance of the party, its shrill cry audible above the churning waves. The bird of prey swooped down on the people and animals, coming to land — she was astonished to note — on the arm of one of the men.
Nianki was eight paces from the beach, treading water. Swimming in the surf was tiring, and the cold water sapped the strength in her legs. Early twinges of cramp warned her to seek land. She swam slowly toward shore, keeping her head down and aiming for her pile of clothes. Her short spear was underneath them.
The mixed band of men and animals was approaching rapidly. They were too close now for Nianki to emerge from the water and not be seen. On closer inspection, she counted twelve men and four of the long-legged beasts. Two of the men were actually riding astride the backs of two of the animals, and the creatures didn’t seem to mind. Words spoken by the old man last night floated into her head: They wear strange clothing and command beasts to do their bidding. Were these the Good People everyone feared?
The strangers’ clothing was indeed odd. Instead of faded brown buckskin or tawny hides, they wore smooth, flowing garments, green as leaves. Some wore hoods on their heads of the same green material. Six of the men on foot carried very long spears, and on their heads something shiny caught the light and flashed.
The lead figure pointed and said something unintelligible in a loud voice. Nianki followed his rigid finger to her discarded clothing. The spear carriers ran forward as the foremost figure dug through her pile of clothes, locating her spear in the process.
By this time she was lying on her stomach in very shallow water. Waves were breaking over her head, and a nagging cramp clutched at her right calf. Why didn’t they move on? It was just a pile of clothes and a short spear — or were they looking for the owner?
She pushed herself backward into deeper water. Cramp or no cramp, she could swim past the interlopers and leave the water behind them, out of sight. Nianki paddled along slowly, parallel to the shore.
“Ay-ha!” One of the mounted men had spotted her. Those on foot came back on the double. A spearman cast his weapon. It fell harmlessly short. The other mounted man spoke sharply to the spear carriers, who fell into line and remained in place as Nianki swam away.
They weren’t pursuing her, but the two riders were. Nianki cursed their ingenuity. They had the use of their animals’ longer legs and greater strength. Even swimming as hard as she could, she couldn’t outdistance strong animals.
She tried trickery. Diving, she swam a few paces in the same direction, then doubled back. When she came up for air, she saw the two riders had split up to cover both directions. They hadn’t left their mother’s arms yesterday, these two.