Dreamfisher Read Free Page B

around her neck, head on her shoulder, crying, “Go, flee now, do not come back. They will kill—”
    “Hush.” Feeling a campfire warmth in her heart, Dreamfisher patted her mother’s back. “Don’t cry, brave one.” She risked the name because her mother deserved it, putting her body between her daughter and the stones. “I have come home to stay. You will see.” Gently she pushed her mother aside.
    To the others, in her strong voice, she said, “I have returned to you bearing a gift from the gods.”
    “Blasphemer!” shouted the Turd. “Upstart!”
    But at the same moment, some youngster cried, “What is it?”
    “What is it?” whispered Dreamfisher’s mother.
    No one else spoke, but the girl saw still, intent faces, hands sagging under the weight of forgotten stones. “It is a gift to all of you.”
    “Bah! Liar!” The Turd was not to be so easily distracted from his wrath as the others. “Why should we believe—”
    Dreamfisher’s mother turned on him. “Who but the gods could have garbed her so?”
    She heard a muted babble among the others: This is true. Listen to her. Let us hear what she has to say. From a few hands, stones dropped, thunking to the ground, sending their own wordless message.
    Dreamfisher said to the Turd in a quiet, level voice, “It is mostly on your account that this gift was sent.” Without waiting for a reply she crouched, her white robe brushing her bare feet, and began to open the packs, sensing more than seeing how her people drew nearer, forming a silent circle around her, their hands open now and empty.
    When she stood and looked around, yes, the Turd waited sullenly with the others.
    “This is a gift of names from the gods.” From her pack she drew something flat and white. “Eat this, sleep this night, and by dawn you will know your name.”
    “How?” barked the Turd.
    “You will see.” She handed him the first slab of dried fish.
    * * *
    The Turd dreamed of a bear and was called Brownbear thereafter. What the bear in his dream was doing he did not say.
    Dreamfisher’s mother dreamed of a mountain stream and was called Rill.
    Others became Sunwing, Moonbow, Redbuck, Hawkshadow. Some could not choose names from among their dreams and Dreamfisher helped them: Leafswim, Skylove, Dayseye. But her people did not call her Dreamfisher; only the hero from a faraway village named Athens ever called her that. Her people called her Wisewoman and brought her gifts and revered her. She lived by herself in a hut a little farther up the mountain and never took a mate, but all the mothers and fathers brought their babies to her to be named. And all the children flocked to her daily, for she loved to play games of naming with them. This stone, what does it look like? That tree? That cloud? This flower? And she loved to listen as they told her their dreams.

Edgar Award–winning author Nancy Springer ,
    well known for her science fiction, fantasy, and young adult novels,
    has written a gripping psychological thriller—smart, chilling, and unrelenting…
    DARK LIE
    available in paperback and e-book in November 2012
    from New American Library
    Dorrie and Sam White are not the ordinary Midwestern couple they seem. For plain, hard-working Sam hides a deep passion for his wife. And Dorrie is secretly following the sixteen-year-old daughter, Juliet, she gave up for adoption long ago. Then one day at the mall, Dorrie watches horror-stricken as Juliet is forced into a van that drives away. Instinctively, Dorrie sends her own car speeding after it—an act of reckless courage that puts her on a collision course with a depraved killer…and draws Sam into a desperate search to save his wife. And as mother and daughter unite in a terrifying struggle to survive, Dorrie must confront her own dark, tormented past.
    “A darkly riveting read...compelling.”
    —Wendy Corsi Staub, national bestselling author of Nightwatcher and Sleepwalker
    “ A fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat thriller