People of the Wolf (58 page)

Ice Fire nodded. "Yes, you're everything I'd feared you'd be." He reached down with a sharp chert flake and severed the bindings on Raven Hunter's arms.

Dancing Fox stood uncomfortably at the edge of the hot pool, watching the bright water swirl and splash against the yellow-crusted rocks. Overhead, another gray day promised freezing rain. The billowing cloud of geyser steam rolled out, pushed toward the Big Ice by the cruel wind. Dismal weather; the misty air reflected her own emotions—damp, shadowed, without joy or light, or warmth.

Behind her, the camp of the People looked worn and frayed. As they scuttled back and forth, bundled figures worked at stuffing berries into bags before the humid air could spoil them. Drying racks were hurriedly stripped of the remaining meat. A reality of famine had reared its head as hunter after hunter returned empty-handed. So few caribou had been slain. Only the old bull mammoth paced the hills now, trumpeting his loneliness to the wind-blasted rocks. The musk ox had been hunted out long ago.

"It's the ice—or nothing," she told herself again, irritated by the growling of her stomach. She'd restricted her meals, setting an example of abstinence for her people. They watched soberly, rationing their intake.

A bitter gnawing ate inside her as she glanced at Heron's shelter, seeing One Who Cries emerge and head straight for her.

"He'd like to see you."

Dancing Fox nodded, a knot tying at the base of her throat. "I'd hoped to be back and gone again before he found out."

One Who Cries chuckled softly. "Not anymore. You've

become too important for your own good." He cocked his head, bland features bending into a puzzled expression. "You and Green Water related?''

She smiled at him and shook her head, turning down the path, winding through the shelters. Children ran around her legs, laughter reserved as they chased each other, dogs barking at their heels. One Who Cries followed her. To still the violent spasms in her heart she asked, "I take it that he's feeling better?"

"He's healthy as a musk ox in rut. I ..." At her tightening expression he added, "Bad choice of words."

She waved it off, dread building.

"Anyway," One Who Cries added too briskly, "he came out of it fine. Just woke up and looked around and said he was hungry. Ate like a mammoth bull in spring. Then he got · up and walked out into the light. He climbed up to -a high spot and sat there for a day. Dreaming, I guess. But he said he was being One."

"Dreaming," she growled to cover her conflicting emotions.

At the flap, she stopped short, unsure. All the confidence' fled as she stared at the stained and worn door hanging. A tremble made her heart light. He was there. Just beyond that cracked bit of leather. So close, yet an eternity away.

She closed her eyes, frozen with indecision. I
don't really have to see him. I could just say no and walk away.

"Go on," One Who Cries urged gently.

It took all her nerve to lift the flap and step in. A bright fire crackled in the oxidized fire pit. He looked up, eyes meeting hers, melting her where she stood. The flames cast a reddish gleam over his handsome face, touching his tan leather shirt and turning it into a flickering ocher mantle. His waist-length hair hung loose over his broad chest, brushing the dirt floor.

"I hear you've practically been running the camp," he greeted, expression warm and concerned.

She shrugged, steering her thoughts away from him, back to the People, and finding refuge in the problems. "The worst part has been keeping Raven Hunter's warriors in line. The younger ones keep trying to sneak off to raid the Others."

"And the Others?"

"From what we can gather, they're involved in the fall hunt. Making meat for the winter."

"Will you sit?" he asked.

She settled herself hesitantly on a caribou hide, muscles tense, hands clasped to still the need to fidget, and looked across at him. His tall body had gained some perfection in the past months; a serenity and grace pervaded his every movement. And his eyes . . . even when he looked at her, he seemed to be staring into some distance in his mind.

"I approved all the suggestions you made. I know Four Teeth is your mouthpiece, but Singing Wolf and One Who Cries back you up. I didn't . . ." He smiled wistfully. "I didn't know what the Dreaming could do to a person. How it affected the mind and body and soul. Or I would have been here to help you."

"I know you would have," she whispered, heart thudding sickeningly.
If only I could reach out and touch you
...

"Thank you for taking care of the People for me."

"What's next?" she asked, keeping her voice steady, diverting him from personal subjects.

He frowned slightly, a fleeting change of expression. "We go south as soon as we can. Beyond that, I can't see, except that something cataclysmic looms on the horizon."

"Cataclysmic?"

"Yes . . ."He clamped his lip with his front teeth. "Opposites crossed. Balances equaling each other. Conjunction."

"What are you talking about?"

He spread his hands, leaning back. "Words aren't meant for Dreams."

She nodded, having no idea what he meant. "Are you finished with the mushrooms?"

He looked up at her, eyes haunted. "One more time. On the other side. At the conjunction. Then I'm through."

"And then what?"

He stared blankly. "What?"

"Can you ever ..." She stopped, squeezing her eyes closed. "Will you ever be a normal man again?"

He cocked his head quizzically. "Normal?"

In the long pause, she could see him searching his mind.

"Will you ever be able to love again?" she asked bluntly, nerves strung as taut as a bowstring.

His smile grew slowly, making his face glow. "I love everyone, Dancing Fox. It's part of the Oneness, you see. I—"

"Ah . . ." A hollow ache built in her stomach.

He smiled, a kind expression on his young face. "You're asking more, aren't you? If I'll ever feel a
special
love—like I once felt." He shook his head slowly. "Those feelings are illusory. That's what killed Heron. She never really allowed herself to go all the way. That center of her soul wouldn't surrender. Wouldn't become nothing."

She waved a hand negligently. "It sounds like nonsense."

"Nonsense? That's a good expression. A place where sense isn't. No me or you. No black or white. The pulse of One— and None." He cocked his head sublimely, eyes going over her face tenderly. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," she croaked. But she didn't.

"I love you more now than I did before," he said softly, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Because I don't . . . don't want you now."

"Don't want—"

"I know your soul for what it is. Pure and beautiful, and the same as mine." He spread his arms wide, taking a deep soothing breath. "The same as everything's. Humans only
want
what is different from themselves. You and I, we're one."

Defeated and confused, she sighed and stood. "I take it you'll agree to anything I say about moving the camp? About establishing chores for people? "

He nodded. "No one could do it better than you."

She walked to the hanging, staring back. "It snowed a little last night. The water that froze in the boiling paunches the other day never unthawed. I'm going to start the elders down to the hole. Will you lead them through?"

"I'll do anything you want me to."

A grim smile touched her lips, the ache intensifying to throb through her. "Hardly," she whispered, stepping through the flap.

A dead weight lay heavy on her soul as she started across camp.

* * *

The shelter stood dark, a musty smell wafting on the breeze filtering through the door flap. In the dim light of a dying fire, dozens of hostile, hurt faces shone sanguinely.

' 'I don't know what happened!'' Walrus defended sullenly. Standing with hunched shoulders in the far corner, he slapped his pants hard. "I felt fine and then—"

"And then you fell asleep and let an Enemy steal the Hide!" Red Flint raged, pacing before the fire.

Ice Fire gritted his teeth and knotted futile fists at the door where it flapped in the wind. "Of all the . . ." He shook his head violently. "You were fine when I left. We talked about the hunting, about whether or not the Enemy would raid with their war leader dead and buried, and I asked if you'd be all right. 'Sure,' you said. 'He's going to be no trouble.' And you laughed. So I went back to Red Flint's shelter and went to sleep."

Walrus's face fell, his defiance shattering like a skim of ice under a hammerstone. For a brief instant, Ice Fire's chest tightened, regret filling him. This doughty warrior deserved, better than the pain he was forced to give him.

"Walrus wasn't the only one," Yellow Calf reminded, glaring at the four young men who sat in the back of the shelter with their faces downcast in shame. Yellow Calf's arm shot out. "The finest of our young men? These ... these ..." He couldn't finish, he was shaking so hard. He turned his back to them.

Ice Fire paced up and down the narrow aisle in the packed shelter. "What happened isn't important anymore."

"Not important?"
Horse Tracker thundered. "The White Hide's been stolen by an Enemy! You tell me what
is
important!"

"Getting it back!"
Ice Fire roared. He looked around in the sudden silence. He shouted so rarely, it stunned people now. Every man, woman, and child in the clan stared open-mouthed at him. They waited, hearts and souls wrenched by the greatest tragedy to have ever befallen the Mammoth People. He cringed, feeling their pain touch his heart. But there was no other way to force them south.

Horse Tracker raised his hands, dropping his head. "We'll get it back."

"Of course we will!" Ice Fire slammed a fist into his palm, then turned pensively to Yellow Calf. "You represent Buffalo Clan. Horse Tracker speaks for the Round Hoof Clan and Ice Stalker speaks for Tiger Belly. Does everyone agree that I shall speak for White Tusk?"

Heads nodded all around the shelter. "Very well, I say this. Send the fastest runners we have to Buffalo and Round Hoof Clans. Ask for their best warriors." He raised a hand. "I warn you, only the best, the bravest!"

Horse Tracker threw his shoulders back, saying tersely, "All our young men—"

"Will all your young men be willing to walk under the ice through the ghost hole in pursuit of the Enemy? Do they have the courage to fight and die under the ice. In the blackness?" Ice Fire cocked his head, waiting.

"You haven't mentioned Tiger Belly in all this," Ice Stalker pointed out, his thin face grim.

Ice Fire nodded. "I don't think we can afford to have the Tiger Belly Clan weakened when the diseased peoples to your west would try and force you back.'' He gestured. ' 'If it does turn out that the water is rising to cover the world, it will meet between your lands and the far Enemy's. Do we want it to close behind them? Or in front?"

Ice Stalker considered that. "We'll hold the western borders of our land." He paused for a long eloquent moment, then stabbed out a finger. '
'But you had better recover the White Hide!"

Ice Fire held his eyes until the leader looked nervously away. "I understand Tiger Belly Clan's concern. You've honored the White Hide for many years. But that does
not
mean the rest of us value it less."

"Just get it back," Ice Stalker rasped before striding angrily from the shelter.

"Yellow Calf? Horse Tracker?" Ice Fire turned his cool eye on them. "Are you willing?"

"Send the runners." Horse Tracker sighed. "I am responsible for my clan. We'll go south—through the ice—and get
our Sacred Hide back."

Yellow Calf nodded. "My clan is with you. And this Enemy will pay."

Snow clung to the air, stinging Raven Hunter's face as he trudged toward the mountains forming a high ivory wall. The sky glowed dully with waving curtains of gray clouds.
Storm coming.

He staggered under the weight. Rolled in a long tube, the heavy Hide bowed his shoulders where it bent over his back. Step by agonizing step, he climbed up the rocky slope.

He'd avoided the easy trails, pulling his exhausted body over the roughest paths he could find. They'd never follow him here. Never! Wind Woman's violent breath caught him, almost toppling him over under his burden. Gasping, he grinned into the evening. Wisps of snow twisted out of the mottled sky. He turned in the last light, staring back over the flat, seeing the snow where it blew in streamers along his backtrail.