People of the Wolf (15 page)

"You cursed fool! You'd stay outside to avoid our eyes? You could have died and then where would we all—"

"Food," he mumbled. "Found food. Got tired. Just needed to ... rest.''

Green Water stopped, staring at him as though fearing she hadn't heard right. "Food?"

Runs In Light nodded feebly. With his chin, he gestured. "There, beyond the rocks. It was so heavy. I couldn't drag it."

"Go and get warm," Green Water ordered, leading him to the shelter entrance and helping him inside.

Following the scuff marks he'd left in the snow, she trudged up over the ridge. Below the outcrop—blasted clean by Wind Woman's fury—a matted lump of brown lay wedged in the rock. Green Water recognized the thick hair and heavy hoof: musk ox. The better part of a hind quarter. No feast for so many, but enough, perhaps, to get them off this high rock and back to country where game roamed.

The wolves had been at it; slashes from their fangs scored the hide, ripping out long sections of hair. Carrion it might be, but in winter, in hunger, no one cared.

Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out a hafted knife. Trembling, she chiseled at the frozen flesh.

Rejuvenated, One Who Cries, Singing Wolf, and Jumping Hare struggled to lift the hind quarter to the top of the rocks so the women could drag, it down to camp.

"Sheeesh," Jumping Hare groaned, feet slipping down the icy ridge as he pushed on the slab of frozen meat. "How'd he get it this far?"

"The spirits must have given him strength," One Who Cries said through clenched teeth, pulling from the top.

"Spirits," Singing Wolf grunted. "Men just do crazy things when they're desperate."

"He said he followed wolf tracks."

"Who cares? You think we're saved?" Singing Wolf snorted. "Maybe we'll all have full bellies for one day from this slab. What then?"

Jumping Hare looked uneasy as he sank teeth into his lip. "Wolf Dreamer said there was more out on the plains."

Heaving one last time, they shoved the meat to the top of the hill and leaned back against the rocks, panting. One Who Cries eyed Singing Wolf uneasily. The man grew more difficult and hostile every day, inciting people to squabble with one another, shoving them to criticize Runs In Light behind his back. His manner had gone even more sour after Broken Branch's challenge that night. Singing Wolf acted like a man on the verge of coming apart. The Dreamer had stopped sitting around their nightly fires, fearing the whispered taunts.

"Let's go find the rest," One Who Cries said, shuffling down the Dreamer's back trail. Long dark brown hairs from

the musk ox's hide marked the path. "Hope the scavengers haven't outscavenged us."

Singing Wolf grumbled, "We made the wrong choice. I knew better than to follow some crazy kid."

"Wait," One Who Cries said awkwardly, fleetingly meeting his cousin's hard eyes. "You'll see. Down on that plain, I'll bet we find—"

"Nothing! That's what we'll find. In another week we'll be starving again."

"You're in a good mood." Jumping Hare's sarcasm cut as bitter as the wind.

"I'm no fool. I know when I'm-—"

"Stop it!"
One Who Cries bellowed. "Wolf has provided for us. Quit trying to make everybody ..."

Singing Wolf's condemning laughter stopped him. One Who Cries glowered, then trotted ahead faster, not wanting the trouble he knew lurked just beneath his anger. If only Broken Branch hadn't goaded his cousin.

' 'If Wolf was really leading us," Singing Wolf yelled, voice undulating on the glacial wind, "you think he'd bring us a pitiful winter kill? Huh? He'd call a whole herd of mammoth for us!"

One Who Cries didn't turn, wading through a patch of swirled snow to the top of a ridge. His heart pounded with anger. If things didn't start going better, he'd end up slamming a fist into Singing Wolf's big mouth.

"I think I'll take my woman and go back. Why don't you come with me?" Singing Wolf asked in sudden hope, racing forward to catch up. "We know what's behind us. We can—"

"Uh-huh." One Who Cries stepped over an outcrop of shale, surveying the gleaming country. "The Others."

"I'm not afraid—"

"I'm going to the plain," Jumping Hare murmured apologetically. "One musk ox died there. Maybe there's more."

As they descended the icy ridge, they saw the carcass. The wolves stood, marking the sight, watching with wary yellow eyes.

Singing Wolf ran screaming into their midst. "Get away. Goon!"

The animals scattered, whining and snarling their resentment.

"Why'd you do that?" One Who Cries shouted. "If you'd given us a chance, we might have shot one or two. Wolf's crummy meat. But it's meat."

Jumping Hare sighed, watching the wary animals now circling beyond dart range. "One of those wolves might have made the difference for some of the old people."

Singing Wolf opened his mouth, a hot retort on his lips. As if the reality had finally sunk in, he looked quickly away, shoulders slumping.

One Who Cries squinted at the remains. The ox had mired in deep snow, breaking through a hidden patch of larch. The wolves had taken their time. "No guts. Wolves got most of the fat. But it's life."

Jumping Hare licked his cracked lips. "People will call us stupid if we haul this all the way back to camp and then walk past this place on our way to some hole in the ice." He glanced sideways at his clan brothers. "We are going that way. Aren't we?"

One Who Cries filled his lungs with air, then exhaled. "I'm not climbing all those ridges back to Mammoth Camp."

"Good!" Jumping Hare blurted, flapping his arms gleefully. ' 'I '11 go get the rest of our people and bring them here.'' He turned quickly, running back along their trail.

One Who Cries glanced to Singing Wolf. His cousin looked away, guilt bright in his eyes.

One by one, Crow Caller's band began to fail. Two Whistles wandered off during the march. Slate Rock stumbled and fell, refusing to get up. Staggering on, they'd had no choice but to leave him. Crow Caller exhorted them, whipped them with words and blows, but the People had been pushed so far beyond their endurance they couldn't comply.

Dancing Fox plodded along, feeling how close she was to the edge, knowing that without Raven Hunter's extra donations, she, too, would have long since died from the cold or exhaustion. Determined, she held on, marching at the end, - trying to keep the stragglers moving. Sometimes succeeding, other times failing.

Even Raven Hunter's face seemed empty. Only his indom-

itable spirit kept him roving before the band. His periodic offerings of rabbits, ptarmigan, and the scavenged remains of winter kills kept them going. Many on the edge of death, they still stumbled on.

In her dreams, Runs In Light watched, his eyes ever filled with tears. One Dream repeated over and over. Runs In Light stood high on a rocky hill. Below, Dancing Fox clambered over rough angular rocks, levering herself up, scrambling. The harder she climbed, the steeper the slope, the higher he seemed.

She called to him, reaching up, trying to touch the rock on which he stood. Again and again she tried, jumping, leaping fruitlessly. Yet he stood, face impassive, unaware of her as she tried so desperately to get his attention.

Finally, as she screamed her misery, he would turn, the Dream in his eyes, and walk slowly away in a shaft of light, leaving her in the empty darkness.

"Should have gone with Runs In Light," Talon mumbled weakly where she hobbled in front of Dancing Fox. "Should have. Wolf Dream. Broken Branch saw it. She knew a Dreamer when she saw one."

A chill lay around Dancing Fox's heart. "Yes," she whispered. "She knew."

Talon looked back for a moment, the stigma of a cursed woman forgotten. "Deep down, I knew Crow Caller's Power was gone. And he leads us anyway."

"He's a fool," Dancing Fox said. "And worse, he's killed people who trusted him—just to save face."

"Well," Talon gasped, breath puffing whitely before her, "he's killed me, too. I'm tired, girl. Tired and cold. I feel it in my joints. I shiver a lot now when I'm not moving. You know what that means? No fire in the body anymore.
No
fire, girl."

"You can make it," Dancing Fox insisted. "Here, lean against me."

The old woman shook her head, coming to a stop. "No," she said in a long exhale. "I'm just plain tired. You understand? I've gone over the edge."

Dancing Fox stopped, heart thundering. "Here, take my hand. I'll help. You'll die if you fall behind. You won't make it to shelter after dark."

Talon chuckled dryly. "Take your hand? And have my soul soiled by yours?"

Dancing Fox withdrew her offered mitten, dropping her eyes. "I want you to live, that's all."

"I'm joking, girl. I don't care about
his
curses. His Power's gone. He can't hurt me or you."

They held each other's eyes for a moment, probing the other's soul.

"I'm sorry I spurned you," Talon whispered miserably. "I worried about what people would think of me. And now look." She gave a halfhearted wave. "Those I lived with stumble off and leave me. And who takes time to offer encouragement? A cursed woman thrown out by that idiot, Crow Caller."

"Come on." Dancing Fox smiled and put her arm around the old woman's bony shoulders. "Let's go. Raven Hunter will bring me something tonight. I'll share with you. Just keep trying for me, all right?"

"Crow Caller will try to bury us both, you know?" As an afterthought, she added, "If he lives that long."

"If . . ." Fox muttered, helping support the old woman, feeling the cold seeping up through her own legs, knowing how close she was to collapse.

"Sure," Talon grumbled. "With all of us hating him so much, it ought to kill him."

Silently, Fox hoped the old woman was right.

Snowshoes were unstrung from packs and tied with knots to long boots. Warily, the People walked out into the open. Keen eyes scanning the snow, searching for tracks left by caribou, musk ox, or a rare moose. To the side, fox trotted close enough to identify them before hastening away. As the Long Dark grew out of the north, they dug into the drifts for shelter.

Runs In Light chewed a thin strip of raw frozen meat. The warm taste of ox lay lightly on his tongue, saliva running in his mouth. So little. One hearty meal. Enough to keep them alive. Where was mammoth? A few of the beasts should have been sweeping the snow with their huge tusks. Where were the caribou?

But the Dream had been so vivid.

He reluctantly let his eyes drift over their shelter. Children already lay snuggled under robes in the comer, their mothers huddled together beside them. Men slouched bleakly against the irregular ice walls. No one met his eyes. They talked as if he wasn't there. All but Broken Branch, who ambled over, helping him scoop a place for his robes out of the snow.

"Am I an outcast, Grandmother?" he asked softly.

She sniffed in the darkness, a mittened hand resting lightly on his knee. "Wolf Dream, boy. It'll lead us."

"Will it?"

"Of course. Wolf's just seeing if we're worthy."

He bowed his head and long black hair tumbled down over his chest. Fumbling with the laces on his boots, he asked, "What if it was just hunger playing with my mind?"

"Hunger—or a knock in the head—it doesn't matter what brings the Dream ... so long as it comes."

He glanced around the dimly lit shelter. "They won't look at me."

Her taloned fingers tightened on his knee. "So? You need their approval before you believe what Wolf told you?"

"I'm not cer—"

'
'If you do, you've no business being here* Get out there in the darkness and call Wolf again!"

She mumbled incoherently after that, waving her arms in irritation as she waddled away on stringy legs, a gleam of stubborn faith lighting her old eyes.

Crazy old woman. What did she know? He'd tried calling Wolf a hundred times, but no answer came. And the memory of the Power that had supported him when he faced Crow Caller grew dimmer every day, hanging in the back of his mind like a vanished wraith.

"Wolf Dream," the old woman whispered gruffly as she nodded off to exhausted sleep. "Wolf Dream."

Runs In Light curled into a fetal ball and pulled his robes over his head, letting the warm blackness soothe his inner fears.

He slung his pack over his shoulder the next morning and strode to where Jumping Hare and Singing Wolf talked animatedly. As he neared, their conversation died, their angry eyes accusing him.