People of the Wolf (60 page)

"You will protect us?" Buffalo Back called.

"My soul is yours. We walk together in One." Wolf Dreamer smiled radiantly and walked back down the slope to Heron's shelter.

"Walk together in One?" Buffalo Back asked, perplexed. "What's he talking about?"

The People looked anxiously back and forth, eyes veiled.

One Who Cries had seen that look before—among a herd of caribou about to bolt as they sensed a hunter's keen eyes upon them.

One Who Cries—without thinking—called out, "Use your heads. The man's a Dreamer. He means we go through
one hole
together."
At least, I hope that's what he meant.
"I've been through there. Dancing Fox came through alone—with

no light. Wolf Dreamer knows what he's doing. He's Dreamed us safely through already."

"What's he going to do now?"

One Who Cries shrugged irritably. "Talk to the ghosts, maybe. Tell them we're coming and to leave us alone."

He looked around, suddenly aware he'd become the total center of attention. For a half second, he stood there, speechless, undone by their shining eyes. He could see the fear that lay hidden behind set mouths, worry grating at the bottoms of their hearts. They
wanted
to believe—desperately.

One Who Cries caught himself before he lowered his eyes. Instead he looked back, saying the first thing that came to his staggered mind. "I've been through to the new land. The animals are fat and unafraid! Not only that, but we've got a Dreamer to call them in. There won't be any Others there. We can live in peace, see what's to the south beyond the ice."

"But we have to walk under the ice for two days?" Four Teeth shook his head.

"It's not that bad! We've all had to walk in the depths of the Long Dark. There's not much difference. My beloved Green Water carried my little son through. Curlew Song walked with Jumping Hare. Even Old Broken Branch went through." He paused, frowning. In a wry voice he added, "Well, no wonder the ghosts didn't want to mess with us."

A chuckle of laughter broke the dam of reservations.

A warmth spread through his breast as he looked at them. His people, they looked back, a trace of the old humor in their eyes. "Sure, it's a scary place under the ice," he agreed honestly. "But we're safe. I've seen the truth of the Wolf Dream." He waved his hands. "Oh, I know, I've sat around the fires with you, heard the stories. What if this? What if that? Well, the time's come to go. There's nothing here for us anymore."

Several looked up at him with beaming hopeful faces, nodding, eyes alight. As suddenly, he swallowed hard, realizing what he'd done, what he'd given them of himself.

"One," he whispered under his breath, taken aback.
Like Wolf Dreamer says, I've given them something of my soul.
He tried to feel around, to see if any of him was missing, but he seemed whole, curiously satisfied—even if their staring eyes left him shy and embarrassed.

Four Teeth nodded agreement as he stepped over next to One Who Cries. "I've heard the Dreamer. I've heard One Who Cries, Singing Wolf, and Dancing Fox. If we have even a little bit of their courage and honor, no harm will come to us."

One Who Cries grinned sheepishly. ' 'If a coward like me can make it through just think how well the rest of you will do!"

The next morning, they wound their way out of Heron's valley, leaving behind trampled snow, the refuse of a year's occupation, charred fire pits—and the bones of the dead. One Who Cries stood on the rim of the valley, looking back. The stinking geyser billowed toward the snow-gray sky in a puffy .cloud. Around the spots where the shelters had been, rings of brown from discarded scraps and chipped stone flakes remained. The willows had been systematically trimmed out, their roots riding high where they'd been tied to packs, the sweet bark eaten while the outer material had been woven into rope and string. The People used all of the willow.

We are so few. Where once the People would have streamed by for hours, now we are this pitiful remnant. Look at us. Our clothing is worn, torn, polished thin from use. The children walk on legs like spindles. No face is without lines traced by pain and loss. Is this what we've become?
He shook his head.

Tired, ragged, they walked southeast to the Big River, a line of bobbing forms. Together they followed the Dream. j But what of the Dreamer? A gnawing misgiving ate at the base of his heart. Every time he thought he'd come to know the man Runs In Light had become, he changed, became someone different. Each time the sensation was more and more disquieting.
I feel like I lose more of my old friend every moment.

He looked ahead, seeing that thin figure walking with a straight back, head held high. Though he couldn't see his eyes from where he stood, he knew what they looked like: distant, shining with an eerie illumination.

One Who Cries sighed. "Well, he's led us this far. The end is almost come." He shook his head, muttering softly under his breath. As the last of the women passed, he took

one final look at Heron's valley before following in the steps of his tattered, weary people.

Everyone tried to pack in around the outskirts of the council. Ice Fire found mild amusement in their jostling. Beyond the bobbing heads and the whispers back and forth behind secretive hands, he could see the marshy lake they'd just skirted. The ice still couldn't be trusted to bear a man's weight—so they'd gone the long tedious way around through the rocks. Behind him, to the south, the hills of the Enemy rose. There, in the final holdings of the Enemy, the web would be drawn tight. There, it would all be played out.

A fitful burst of wind harried them as he tried to bring his thoughts back to the council at hand. Strange developments, these, but what did they mean? He looked up to see the confusion in Broken Shaft's face.

"We were dead. They caught us completely by surprise." Broken Shaft lifted his arms helplessly. "I was in the lead. The trail ran around this big boulder and they were standing there, up above us, with darts and big rocks to throw down. Like a mammoth in a gully, we couldn't do anything."

"For one, I was ready to die," Smoke continued. "I nocked a dart in my atlatl and glared up, trying to judge the angle, and someone yelled, 'Stop!' "

"It was a woman." Broken Shaft shifted nervously, looking around at the hard-faced men who stared back at him. "A beautiful woman." He scuffed the toe of his long boot in the snow. "She held up both hands and spoke. I suppose if it had been a man, I'd have darted him just like that. But a woman? A warrior doesn't expect a woman to stop a fight. Not when we were in such bad position."

"And what did she say?" Ice Fire frowned, feeling the pull of the south.

"She said to go back," Smoke told them, looking around. "She said that the People were tired of warring. That too much killing had gone on. She said that we should leave all but one dart on the ground and keep that one for protection from bears. We should take our lives which the People gave to us, and to come and tell our elders that our lives were given back for some of the ones they'd taken in war."

Whispers broke out among the listeners.

Ice Fire considered it, a flicker of hope born in his breast.

Broken Shaft shook his head uneasily. "It's a strange thing. I've never heard of an Enemy not killing. I don't understand this."

"They want peace."

"Peace?"
roared Red Flint. "They've stolen the White Hide and they want peace? They've cut apart our young men, raped and carried off our young women? And
they
want peace?"

"The man, Raven Hunter, stole our White Hide," Ice Fire reminded. To Smoke he asked, "Did she say anything about the White Hide?"

He shook his head, looking nervously around.

"Cowards," Red Flint growled, spitting angrily at the smoldering fire. "You could have killed them, wiped them out for—"

"We'd have died!" Broken Shaft protested, hearing surly mutterings among the watching warriors. "Dead, we do no good to the people."

"Cowards do no honor to the clan!" Red Flint sneered. ,

"Enough." Ice Fire turned, meeting the hot eyes of the warriors. Behind him, Broken Shaft, Smoke, and Black Claw stood defiantly, glaring back.

"Singer?" Broken Shaft challenged in a strained voice, his handsome face twisted. "Don't call us—"

"For my own part," Ice Fire softly interrupted, "I can't remember ever mistaking wisdom for cowardice." One of the warriors behind him grunted affirmation while the accusers shifted their glances.

Red Flint hissed something under his breath, violence in his eyes as he stared at the warriors.

A wound opened in Ice Fire's heart as he watched his old friend's face contort in rage. The other warriors shifted, some looking nervously at Red Flint, some chewing their lips as they glanced anxiously at Ice Fire.

Broken Shaft blinked and lowered his eyes, exhaling heavily. "I'm sorry, Elder. I didn't know our actions would—"

"It's the theft of the White Hide," Ice Fire decided in a voice loud enough to be heard by all. "We're losing our tempers, not thinking clearly."

Broken Shaft and his friends fidgeted nervously—unsure of

themselves. Across the lake, a lone goose fluttered her wings as she struggled to walk on the thin ice.

"I think . . ." Ice Fire hesitated, a deep frown incising his brow. Then he looked up at Broken Shaft. The young warrior searched his face, silently seeking guidance.

"Most Respected Elder, tell me what's right? I'll do whatever—"

"You already know," he comforted, coming to a decision, patting the man's shoulder affectionately. ' 'You left when the Enemy woman gave you your life. You speak correctly when you say you're worth more to the clan alive than dead.','

"Yes, Elder," the warrior muttered gratefully.

"I don't like dealing with the Enemy," Red Flint insisted. "Taking anything from them—even a life—makes me feel shamed!"

"Remember that we've hunted them, pushed them, driven them from the last of their lands over the years. Hmm? Put yourselves in their place. Would you have spared the lives of Smoke, Broken Shaft, and Black Claw?"

"But they're not human beings!" Red Flint cried. "They don't have the Great Mystery! They don't have the clans!' Their dead don't go to the Camp of Souls beneath the sea! They aren't like us! They're animals! Less than animals!"

Ice Fire paced slowly back and forth. He searched each of the faces in the silence following Red Flint's outburst. "Blueberry was one of your wives, Sheep's Tail. Was she an animal?"

The young warrior looked quickly around, seeing all eyes on him, and swallowed, lips moving. "Well, she wasn't a very good wife. I had to beat her all the time to keep her civil."

"But she did bear you a strong son." Ice Fire cocked his head, eyes throwing the challenge to Red Flint.

The Singer walked to stand directly in front of him, jaw clamped tightly. "I won't stand more of this Enemy diluting our ways!" he shouted finally. "I won't! We're losing ourselves!"

"Do you want the robe of Most Respected Elder?" He gently unslung the snow white fox hide from his shoulders, caressing it lovingly for a moment before handing it to his old friend. He waited, seeing unease replace anger on Red

Flint's face. "I'm waiting, Singer. If you want the robe, I'll surrender it willingly."

A hush draped over the spectators.

Red Flint's eyes dropped and he licked his lips. "Things have changed, is all," he added lamely, ignoring the fox hide before him.

"The whole world's changing," Ice Fire murmured understandingly, withdrawing the white cloak and swirling it around his shoulders again. "We're changing, too. Many things are different. That's why it's time for careful thought instead of brash action."

"And what are you going to do about the Enemy? How are you going to get the White Hide back?" Red Flint asked.

Ice Fire turned to Broken Shaft. "This woman, did she have a name?"

"Dancing Fox."

"Dancing Fox." He nodded, Raven Hunter's words fresh in his memory. "A very powerful woman," he added as if to himself.

"You know of this woman?" Red Flint asked skeptically, off balance from the recent confrontation.

"I know of her. She may be the key to getting the White Hide back.' *

"An Enemy woman?" Red Flint exploded scornfully. "A ... a
woman!"

"She trapped us," Black Claw added soberly. "And she commanded the men in her war party. They listened and they obeyed."

"So she has some foolish young men whose rods she's sliding up and down, that doesn't—"

"One of the 'foolish young men' was Eagle Cries. Remember him? I do. I remember him leading raids through our camps not so long ago at Raven Hunter's side. He's no foolish young man." Broken Shaft waited for rebuttal. None came.