Stormy picked up her train of thought again. “But yeah, losing that beadwork was really tough. It was like losing my first love or something.” Stormy focused intently on shaping Bugz’s braids perfectly. “No, really. That was the first set I beaded myself. I poured my heart into it. I worked on it all winter, and then I danced in it all summer, for two summers actually, and then, boom, it was gone.”

Bugz thought of Waawaate. She swallowed.

“My kookom taught me how to bead. She used to tell me, ‘Say a prayer with every bead you use.’ ” Stormy did her best grandma impression, even crouching and squinting slightly. “Kookom used to say, ‘Your beadwork is a sign of how much you are loved because someone took the time to sew every single bead, and to do it with a prayer, all for you.’ So I guess someone really must love you if you got beadwork, right? That’s why I bawled like crazy when it burned up, because of all the love that beadwork represented, and losing it meant I lost that love.” Stormy sighed. “My first love.”

Bugz cried again, though for another reason now. Bugz thought of her relationship with Waawaate as beadwork. Each moment they spent together was a cut-glass bead stitched into the pattern of their lives. Every tear they’d shed together was another contour in a beautiful floral design. Every time she’d watched him working his magic on the pow-wow trail, at the traditional ceremonies, making people laugh, was another glimmering sphere woven into the fabric of her memory. Not only had they beaded regalia together, but it was the most beautiful regalia she’d ever seen—beautiful like the original shimmering jingle dress dancing its way into the dreams of her Ancestors. Now it was slipping away.

“Waawaate is my best friend,” Bugz said. “Maybe my only friend.” She wiped tears from her eyes.

“I’m your friend.” Stormy looped a hair tie around the end of the braid she’d finished.

“Really?”

“No, I’m just using you to get to Waawaate.” They both burst out laughing and Stormy set to work braiding the rest of Bugz’s hair.

CHAPTER 50

In the Floraverse, the rain fell sideways, forcing Mishi-pizhiw to squint. Bugz rode, blinded, on his back. A few times already, they’d narrowly avoided another encounter with Clan:LESS. Still, a final showdown with their mortal foes seemed inevitable.

Worse yet, Bugz feared she wouldn’t see the attack coming.

Bugz planned to rebuild her defenses. She envisioned creating an army of buffalo to storm across the prairies and join with a rebuilt fleet of Thunderbirds and an armada of sturgeon. But she didn’t have access to the nest at the bottom of Lake of the Torches to bring these visions to life. Without that, she needed time. And time was yet another thing she didn’t have.