People of the Wolf (10 page)

"No, I—"

' 'Well, you're heading for more!'' He shoved her backward and strode haughtily away.

Dancing Fox secured her tump line again and followed slowly as he weaved through the tangle of people to the front of the procession. She kept her eyes down to avoid seeing the curious looks, the stolid expressions masking thoughts.

They climbed up to the wind-blasted ridge in single file, a weary people with nowhere to go. Ragged, hungry, their tattered caribou-hide clothing worn thin, they marched into the wind. Some looked over their shoulders, peering uneasily at Runs In Light's band where they threaded into the distance.

Dancing Fox shot one last look at Mammoth Camp, the place where her world had changed. Her love had gone cold when she'd been given to Crow Caller. Her father had thrown her to him for services rendered like an old blanket. When he'd died, she hadn't mourned.

So much of her life had been twisted like a hare from its hole. So many hopes and desires smashed and broken there under the white-patched brown hides of mammoth. Now she walked away; married, possessed by Crow Caller, who crawled onto her each night, spreading her legs, thrusting

and going limp. Thank the Blessed Star People he was brief about it. Shame burned up her cheeks.

Behind, Mammoth Camp would slowly sink into the ground. The shelters would rot away, the bits of bone desiccating and splintering in the Long Light. The body wastes of the People would become fodder for beetles and bugs. The dead, their souls glistening above, would not only house insects,- but feed the crows and gulls. Maybe a passing wolf would chew on them. The bones would be scattered, mice crawling through the hollow skulls. Some of the debris left behind would wash away, the rest would be slowly buried until nothing but tussock grasses, sedge, and wormwood remained.

"Only my pain will last forever," she whispered.

She winced at the burning that lanced through her with each step. She swung her legs wide to avoid chafing the places her husband had torn the night before. The bites on her breasts hurt where the caribou-fawn hair of her skins rubbed.

She cast a hard glance at Crow Caller's straight back where he marched at the lead. Hatred blocked her pain for a moment.
You want me to think of you, old man? Yes, I will.
She concentrated on filling her mind with so much hate, she could barely think at all. Her aches receded into nothingness. I
hate you,
she chanted silently over and over.

For hours they walked until they reached a rocky ridge they had to climb on hands and knees. Panting to the top, Fox stood for a moment surveying the land. Father Sun hung low on the distant horizon, wavering through clouds to dapple the white windswept wilderness in irregular patterns.

"Let's go," Crow Caller commanded as he passed her, slapping her arm.

She sighed and struggled down the slippery rocks onto a flat plain. Huge boulder outcrops dotted the expanse, drifts piled twenty feet high at their bases. Sunlight reflected so brilliantly from the snow, it almost blinded. She pulled her leather snow blinders from her pack and strung the slitted goggles over her head.

Raven Hunter roamed wide, his black shape like a fly on fat as he climbed each drift in search of mammoth or Grandfather White Bear. Broken Branch had warned them not to club their bear dogs to death, but hunger had overcome sense.

Now, without the dogs to warn them, they were in constant danger of predators. In this hunger-bleak Long Dark, not even their numbers would long deter a hungry bear.

A hollow chasm grew in Dancing Fox's chest, yawning wider with each step. Her ties with Runs In Light strained to the breaking point as she tramped farther and farther from him. At least when they'd been in camp together, she could talk to him occasionally—touch him guardedly. But now she'd have nothing, no solace from her husband's brutality.

For hours they trudged, Cloud Mother gradually pulling a roiling charcoal gray blanket over them. At first Wind Woman tugged gently at Fox's clothing, but by the time Father Sun had walked halfway across the southern heavens, howling gusts lashed her. Snow blew in chattering streams from the drifts, stinging her face like icy bone splinters.

Her hatred burned, thoughts drifting to Runs In Light and back to Crow Caller.
He owns my soul.

I can protect you!
Light's desperate voice promised in her memory.

She felt her tender breasts, knowing the bruises Crow Caller had left. The memory of his flesh against hers made her stomach heave.

Ahead, the old shaman bent into the wind, hawking to spit phlegm from his lungs.

"I
can't, "
she whispered, soul crying within. "I can't stay with you, old man. I can't stand the thought of your filthy mouth on me. Can't stand the thought of your wasted flesh rubbing mine. I'd rather die. ..."

She looked around, heart like a rock in her chest. She bit her lip, thinking.

The storm raged down on them in hazy crystalline sheets, obscuring the plain, but still they strode on. When they were well out into the flats, Dancing Fox slowed her pace, falling back to the end of the procession. She fell out of line, squatting down as if to relieve herself. Her heart pounded sickeningly. People averted their eyes from her, as was proper.

She crouched there in the swirling snow, knees trembling. The band dimmed to a slithering ashen slash, finally disappearing into the squall. Only their rapidly filling tracks graved the snow.

Mustering her courage, she ran headlong for the lee of a

drift, pressing her back against it as she angled away from the People. She doubled back along an ice-packed ridge, throwing terrified glances over her shoulder. Would they be looking yet?

Shuddering, she turned her face into the frigid gale, praying, "Wind Woman, please, cover my trail. I must get away."

Faintly, as if the spirit carried it to her deliberately, she heard Crow Caller shouting. Fragments of curses shot through the storm, one word clear in its repetition, "Death . . , death."

Stumbling forward, she ran with all her heart, lungs heaving as she scrambled over another ridge and headed along the spiny backbone, hiding behind each upthrust rock to stop and listen. For a long time she ran, heedless of anything more than direction and her hunger-starved weakness.

"Wolf?" she whispered to the darkening gray of day. "Wolf, you promised your Power would be strong. Protect me."

She could find Light's trail, even in the brunt of the storm. Memories of his warm eyes and gentle touch soothed her.

She threaded down the ridge, hair darting wildly before her eyes, then skirted an eerily sculpted bank of ice; it stretched like a series of mammoths lumbering along in single file. Through the haze, she thought she glimpsed their old shelters, the black hides frosted with snow.

"Could I be this close so soon?" she murmured, brow furrowing in thought. It didn't make sense that she'd come so far, but time seemed to stop in the midst of a storm.

Her eyes darted along the ice wall, roving blue hollows and swirling mounds. Snow fell harder, draining color from the arctic landscape until nothing but white existed. Sliding slowly along the wall, her fumbling outstretched hand sank suddenly back into the bank.

"What ..." she murmured unsteadily, bending cautiously down to peer into the small ice cave. Kneeling, she crawled inside out of the wind.

Her sanctuary stretched barely five by eight feet, the ceiling only a foot over her head. Duck-walking to the rear of the cave, she removed her pack, shoving it into a darkened corner, and sagged wearily against the wall.

"Wolf?" Her voice echoed from the irregular walls. "They'll be looking for me as soon as the storm dies down."

As she huddled, trembling from exhaustion, she closed her eyes, trying to feel her soul, to feel if Crow Caller had taken any part of it. But the lightness of hunger obscured any other feelings.

Whirling silver wreaths swept by beyond the mouth of the cave, Wind Woman's undulating shrieks piercing the day. Fox rested, mittened hands shoved deep in her pockets, watching.

Despite her fear, sleep came quickly, drifting warmly down her exhausted limbs, wrapping softly around her reeling brain. Runs In Light grew out of a shining column of light. He stood out from the darkness, weeping. Behind him, the Star People glistened brilliantly over a series of jagged ridges. Each tear that dripped from his chin froze before it hit the ground, landing with a soft clink. Was he crying for her? No, she felt it was something much deeper, a soul wound no one but he himself could heal. Still, her heart ached for him. She wanted to go to him, to—

"Ah yes. Dancing Fox. Here you are," a smooth voice cooed, intruding on the dream.

She gasped, starting as she opened her eyes. It all came back, Crow Caller, the flight, the storm . . .
fear.

"Raven Hunter," she said in a quivering voice, tears welling. The old man must have sent him to find her. "What do you want?"

He laughed and sat down beside her, amused by the way she cowered, holding his own hands high in a gesture of truce. She watched him intently, expecting foul play—waiting her chance to scramble out into the storm.

"Then you're not lost, I take it?"

She kept quiet, closing her eyes, a yawning emptiness growing under her heart.

"Oh, come," he chided. "I'm not here to hurt you. Let's say it's curiosity." His straight nose and high cheekbones shone red with cold, his full lips curled in a grin. Only his black eyes burned dark and impenetrable.

"Curiosity?"

"Yes," he said lightly, pushing back his fur hood and shaking out his long hair. "I didn't expect to see you out here. It's not a day to—"

"Stop it," she commanded quietly. "You followed me.
He
sent you."

"No," he defended flatly. "I haven't been back to the band. The storm came on so quickly, I didn't have a chance. And when I saw you running back toward Mammoth Camp, I had to come see why.''

She glared coldly at him.

Pulling off his mittens and opening his pack, he removed a fragment of mammoth dung and, with the butt of his atlatl, chipped a small hole in the floor. Laying the 'fuel into the pit, he lifted fire sticks from his pouch, spinning them deftly until the tinder began smoldering. Gently, he blew to encourage the fire, a crackling flame spearing light into the shelter. Holding long fingers over the frail warmth rising from the dung, he looked at her, an eyebrow cocked.

She glared back.

"I saw you running along the ridge top." He puffed condensed breath and smiled faintly. "Never run on high places if you're trying to escape. People can see your movements over amazing distances."

She dropped her eyes to stare at the crimson glow expanding in the fire pit. She'd assumed the snow blanketed her frantic efforts—and maybe it had, from the band. She'd forgotten about him. Silently, she cursed herself.

"What do you want?" she demanded brusquely.

"For the moment, to fill my belly." Removing a stringy lump of frozen meat from a bag in his pack, he skewered it with his long dart and propped it over the fire.

"And then?"

Slumping comfortably back against the wall, he sighed and pinned her with his eyes, remarking casually, "Depends." A pause. "So, you're chasing after my worthless brother."

"I . . ." Her throat bobbed with a difficult swallow. "He-"

"He's leaving a trail for you. Yes, I noticed. So did old One Eye, I think."

Though he said the words mildly, they struck her like a blow in the stomach. Could it be true? No, Crow Caller would have punished her immediately. It was his way. "You're a liar."

He laughed. "Am I? Light's actions were rather difficult

to miss, don't you think? I mean, that quaint ceremony on top of the ridge, and your eyes locked with his. Why, only a fool-"

"Then how did you catch it?" she asked, folding her arms and hugging herself.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Don't tell me you're still in love with him? Why, I thought sure Crow Caller's caresses would have blotted him from your mind long ago."

"I'd rather have a bott fly lay its seed in me than that foul old—"

"Such devotion from a doting young wife."

"Old One Eye? Isn't that what I heard you call the most powerful man among the People? Such respect from a young hunter to his elder.''

He chuckled. ' 'Perhaps we understand each other.''

She glowered, but inside she thought how honeyed his voice sounded, honeyed—and friendly. A dangerous sign. Raven Hunter only grew amiable when he thought he could gain something.

"Of course," Raven Hunter continued, "my idiot brother did ask you to marry him after your father had given you to Crow Caller. His timing is priceless, isn't it?"