Afterwards when she came back, she crouched down on a jutting crag, covered her head with her robe, and mourned for the overthrow of all she had loved on earth.
"What brought you here?" Storm asked, for his heart went out to her.
"I'm finding the trail," she said, "to make it easier for Rain when she dies, and comes here—she who avenged her honor. I will set up her lodge, and bide with her."
Not sin, but love, had brought this unhappy spirit down to Hell, love upside down, grotesquely changed to hate, to venomous curses and exulting vengeance, but love nevertheless, love eternal, love triumphant. Ignoring his own misery, thrusting self away, Storm had the heart to pity Thunder Feather, sought clumsily enough and hopelessly to give her the comfort which he lacked himself.
How strange it was that, all unnoticed, humble mosses grew in the cracks of the rock, putting forth tiny forlorn green flowers. There was even a trickle of water flowing across the shelf.
Why, there was light enough now to see far up the gray, stupendous walls on either side, although the abyss beneath was hardly visible. The water caught the light, and Storm saw it, letting the trickle flow into his hands, although his thirst had become so terrible that he could not keep still, but let it run away between his fingers. He tried again, but this time to get water for the woman. She cursed him, cross-grained as ever, but she drank, and went on cursing his attempts to give her comfort where there could be none. She tried to drive him away, but he was busy drinking and took no notice. She was glad in her heart that he stayed, that he still tried to give her something to hope for. If she had come down the trail, it must be possible for him to help her up again.
It was then that Catherine came, calling for Thunder Feather, feeling her way down into the gloom of the abyss. She found the woman at her son's feet, mourning.
Storm looked up wondering at his mother's radiance, which lighted the gray walls on either side. Then she bent down and kissed him on the forehead.
"Silly old Thunder Feather!" she said with all the clear-cut, brisk decisiveness of the trained nurse, "talketh nonsense and knoweth it is rubbish, and grinneth when found out, as she doth now. Ugh! Look at her!"
Thunder Feather tried to conceal the grin under her robe.