People of the Wolf (26 page)

"A Dreamer has to clear his mind to be able to think and feel without worrying about who's squabbling with who. Without being interrupted by nonsense."

She rubbed her nose. "Here . . . before the People came . . . you could hear, feel, let the world wrap around you. The land breathes, the animals follow their ways. Seasons, cycles, it all goes around. Everything's inseparably locked together. Grass grows where mammoth dung falls. Seeds blow in the

wind. Mammoth eats the grass and makes more dung. The People know this, but not what it means. And who can think about the One Life when three kids are howling for food and someone is telling jokes in the back of the shelter?"

"So, all I have to do is be alone?" he asked skeptically. It sounded far too easy to be true.

She bowed her head and laughed. "All you have to do is set yourself free."

"How do I do that?"

She grinned insolently. "First you have to learn to walk."

"To walk?" he asked, bewildered.

"Sure, then you learn to
Dance."

"Dance?"

"Uh-huh. Then you learn to stop the Dance so you can get a good look at the Dancer."

He shook his head. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"The One Life. It's all a Dance and you have to feel its motions before you can understand it."

"And you think I don't know how to walk yet?"

She sniffed lightly. "Wolf Dreamer, you can't even crawl."

He twisted the fur on his parka hem, forming it into a sharp point as he thought.

"You'll teach me?"

"Are you ready to learn?"

An unaccustomed dryness parched his mouth.
Am I?
"Yes."

"Come." She stood, joints cracking, and pushed the door flaps out of the way.

On the way out, he noted the bear skull, empty orbs staring at him darkly. He clenched his fists in determination. He'd learn.

She led him along the ridge to a high place above the hot springs. Below, the water splashed and bubbled, sizzling. In the blackness of night, she placed a robe on the rock. "Sit. Stay here until I come get you. The only thing you
must
do is still your mind . . . find the silence beneath all the sound."

He squinted incredulously. "There's no silence here. It's all a mass of constant sounds."

He saw her broken teeth flash in the dim light of the Star

People. She put hands on hips and gazed out over the rolling hills to the distant ridges. "You think there's a hole there?"

He followed her gaze, staring at the jagged peaks of ice. A soft pain twined through him. "Yes."

"You have to find the hole inside you before you'll find the one in the ice."

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, clamping his jaw in disbelief. "This is all gibberish. The One Life, the Dance, the hole. What are you—"

"They're all the same. Everything
is
nothing." She cackled, hilarious.

He lifted a brow. "You've lost your mind."

Heron shoved his shoulder playfully. "Exactly! And you must, too. Come. Sit. Clear all words from your head. Not a thought. Not a single image in your mind. You have to lose your mind, be empty before you can be full. Sound easy?"

He nodded in the dark. "Of course. Just shut off the voice in my mind."

"I thought you'd say that." She turned and walked off, steps fading in the darkness. Softly he heard her add, "Remember, your only enemy will be yourself."

Wolf Dreamer rubbed his chin dubiously as he watched the steam rise from the geyser, glowing silver in the starlight.

"Well." He sighed. "Here goes." He closed his eyes and stilled all the words in his mind, concentrating on the sound of the hot springs. It was easy ... for all of a half-dozen heartbeats.

Then words crept into his thoughts. Scenes remembered glowed to life in his mind. Slips of conversation oozed from nowhere. The sound of the springs disappeared in his struggle. Nothing helped. Around him, only the cold of the night and his discomfort on the rock agitated his constant battle to keep his mind clear.

Dancing Fox's face floated in his memories and he felt a tearing confusion, longing, desire to see her again. Hurt, he tried to force her away, his mind chattering to itself.

No sooner had he vanquished that vision than Seagull's voice began, the subtle tones of her speech welcome and comforting. Daydreams followed, all erupting out of the turmoil in his mind.

"Your only enemy will be yourself,"
Heron's words re-

minded, mocking his effort. His butt hurt. The first tendrils of hunger drifted through his stomach.

The long hours continued.

He caught himself musing at the sunrise, smiling at the red and blue bands drenching the sky. Desperately, he battled to still his thoughts about the day. His imagination wove patterns out of the steam lifting from the gurgling water. The gentle breeze filled with familiar voices.

His butt had gone numb. A loud rumble reminded him of his empty stomach.

It got worse.

He didn't remember rolling over on his side, but the flies brought him awake. Tiny gnats plagued him.

"Fine Dreamer you are," he chastised himself, feeling frustrated to the point of screaming. Viciously, he swatted an insect and wiped the remains on his pant leg.

The day wore on. Had Heron forgotten? Gone drifting off on her own, unaware of time? Maybe he ought to go look for her?

"I won't leave."

The sun heated the sky, a thirst growing as he began to perspire. The insects got worse, drawn by the odor of his sweat. A shimmering cloud, they hummed around him. The black flies and mosquitoes sought his flesh. Gnats rattled in his nose, bit at his waist and neck. In desperation, he rolled over and pulled his hood up to cover his head. Sweet oblivion ...

A sharp kick to the ribs brought him scrambling up. To the west, a faint glow marked the vanishing path of Father Sun.

"Asleep?" Heron mused, looking down at his bite-swollen face. "You Dreamed?"

"Uh . . . yes. I was back in the—"

"Didn't you ever find the silence?"

"There's no silence here!" he insisted adamantly, glowering at her.

"Great Mammoth, you're worse off than I thought." She spun on her heel.

He got up unsteadily, dusting himself off, feeling like a gruesome failure. Crestfallen, he followed her.

Dancing Fox and Talon sat together at the base of a tall basalt ridge. Broken rock spattered the slopes. Grass filled in the spaces between the tumbled boulders, weaving an irregular green and black patchwork. An eagle circled curiously through the cloudy sky over their heads, diving low on occasion to keep an eye on them.

"It's not very good." Dancing Fox held up the point she'd been working on, flake scars catching the light. The basalt outcrop contained a gritty rock that flaked poorly, unlike the colorful cherts and fine-grained quartzite tool stone One Who Cries cherished.

"So be it. It'll work. The point's the thing, Fox. Got to have that tip sharp so it cuts in. Now, the next thing is the binding. I remember what that worthless man of mine always said. 'Get the hafting too thick, and it hangs up, slows the dart.' Well, at least the old maggot bait could make good darts. But keep in mind, girl, when you haft it, too little binding and the point turns on impact instead of penetrating."

Dancing Fox frowned, sucking at the red slip of skin on her hand where she'd cut herself. It was the bane of all flint knapping; she'd driven a flake deep into the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. About her feet lay a litter of stone chips—including more than one of the long, thin points that she'd cracked during manufacture, striking too deeply into the stone. She lifted the point again and grinned.

"Now," Talon added softly, "you must breathe spirit into the point. That's the key—making it live so it knows it's supposed to drive deeply into the side of the animal, to seek its life. Use all your soul, girl. Sing!"

Dancing Fox nodded, slowly chanting, feeling the Power of her soul as it washed over the dart tip. She clutched the point in her bloody hand, willing herself into the black rock. A warm feeling filled her.

"Now do the binding and the shaft," Talon explained. "You have to get your Power into the whole thing. The point

is only part of the whole. Without a strong straight shaft, the point can't kill. Without the point, the shaft is harmless. The binding makes them one. Then you have to run the grooves along the base and tie the feathers on. That's important . . . keeps the dart flying straight and stable in the air.''

"I never realized how much went into this."

Talon rubbed her fleshy nose. "Think of it like a man and woman. The binding is the marriage to make a whole out of the system. It joins the spheres of Power. Taps the spirits of the rock, the wood, the animal, and the bird. A union, that's Power. Male and female, understand?"

Dancing Fox stared sightlessly at the point. "Like I would be with Runs In Light," she whispered.

"Still can't get him out of your head, huh?"

Dancing Fox pulled long strands of gleaming black hair back from her face, looking longingly to the south. "No, Grandmother, I can't. He fills my dreams, making my nights lonely and empty. I hear his voice, feel his arms."

"Well, it won't be long until Renewal. We'll find him there."

Fox sighed heavily. "I hope so."

"You'd give up your freedom for him? After all this work you've done to learn how to survive on your own?"

Dancing Fox lifted her slim muscular shoulders. "I'd rather survive with him helping me. Is that bad?"

Talon considered, tongue prodding the gaps in her teeth, eyes scanning the darkening sky. A few stars poked through the slate blanket overhead. "To be honest, child, I don't know. Without children, there's no People. But once you've got a baby, you can't hunt like we've been doing. Men are free. They don't have to stay around and look after their brood. Women do."

"Won't you take care of my child for me while I go out to hunt?"

Talon smiled. "Of course I will. But I won't be around forever.''

Dancing Fox nodded thoughtfully. "Well, even without help, there's hunting I can do with a baby. I can still run animals off a cliff like we did that buffalo. Or use a pit trap, like you showed me for the caribou. I can smoke out ground

squirrels, club mice, rob eggs out of nests, and snare hares. I don't have to
stalk
the way a man does."

"And where's the baby going to be while you're doing this?"

"For small game, I can carry her on my back. For big game I might have to find a safe place away from the jump or surround, then come back and get her later."

"You
can
do it, that's true." She squinted hard, rearranging all the lines in her ancient face as she studied Dancing Fox. "But consider this. If you go out and get killed by a wounded buffalo while you're hunting alone, then what? You see, that's the real difference. If a man dies, his child is home safe, but if you die when your baby's with you, well ..."

"So I'm stuck with having other people to care for my children while I hunt." She shook her head.

"Or you don't have children." Talon leaned forward, bending over her knees. "And then where would the People be?"

' 'All I want is to love Runs In Light, to be with him. Why do I have to give up my freedom?"

"Because Father Sun made men one way and women another. You tell me, what if Runs In Light walked over the hill just now? What then, huh? How long until you were under the robes with him?"

Dancing Fox lowered her eyes.

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought. That's the trouble, girl. Everything alive has a drive for coupling. It's deep, keeps us going. Man's worse than woman. Always got to stick his spear into you. But a woman—a young woman in love—that's just as bad. And that's how Father Sun made us."

"And it takes away freedom?"

"Can't help but take it away." Talon shrugged. "Thank goodness, though, that Father Sun was smart enough to give the burden of babies to us. Hard to say what would happen if he'd given those fool men the responsibility. People would have died
off
of stupidity clear back when Father Sun blew life into us after we fell from the stars."