Asson kept glancing up at the tree as he carefully made his way through the wet boulders that cluttered the shore. Sunlight, reflected from the ocean, glimmered over the chestnut, transforming its twigs into skeletal fingers that seemed to be pointing accusingly at his heart, as though Madyrut found something there gravely wanting. “Don’t be angry,” he said. “I got here as quickly as I could. Ghosts don’t understand that it’s a nine-day canoe trip in winter.” Her branches flailed when Wind Woman gusted up the shore. Asson stopped to take a drink from his sealskin water bladder. Once Madyrut had found him, she hadn’t left Asson alone. For almost ten days, her thoughts had been his, but the reverse was not true. She didn’t understand the difficulty of her request. Asson took a long drink, rearranged the Spirit pouches on his belt, and tied the bladder between them again. The faint scent of smoke rode the breeze. He studied the heavily forested hills that lined the coast and saw no gray haze drifting above the trees that would have signaled the location of a village.
What do You think about The Dead Man's Doll (2015)?
