People of the Wolf (68 page)

Around him, the souls of the People glowed, frightened, nervous. Some watched with anticipation, ready, drawn by the violence. Others reflected pain, anxiety filling them. They'd be free soon, these people of his.

Raven Hunter took a step to the side, moving easily. "Even wounded, brother, I'm still more than a match for you. You think your Dream is stronger than me? Stronger than the Power of the White Hide? Look at you,
lost in your head!
You'd lead the People? You? What do you know of
this
world, Wolf Dreamer?"

"He's right,"
Wolf murmured. The beast's voice echoed from the trees.
"Your time here is done. "

'
'But I ... I have to save the People from him.'' He turned uncertainly, meeting Wolf's yellow eyes. "Don't I?"

"You've already saved them."

Raven Hunter guffawed and gazed around the crowd, pointing at his brother. "Look at him, talking to the air! He's mad. I told you all long ago! And you still followed him."

Wolf Dreamer looked back, seeing the deadly resolve in Raven Hunter's soul as it blackened. "You've chosen." And at that, he stepped around his brother and into the fire, Dancing with the flames as they licked at his flesh. The souls of the People flickered with fear as he bent and plucked the coals from the pit.

Raven Hunter watched nervously, the first signs of uncertainty reflected in the shadows of his soul. Carefully, Wolf Dreamer drew the effigy of Wolf on his face with a searing coal, the same effigy he'd drawn that long-ago day outside of Mammoth Camp. Then he reached for Raven Hunter.

Frightened for the first time, Raven Hunter stepped back, holding his broken arm protectively.

"Come, brother," Wolf Dreamer called, following, arms open. "Step into the Light. Embrace me, let my soul mingle with yours. Opposites crossed. Resolution."

"No!" Raven Hunter crouched and charged. He caught Wolf Dreamer with his one good arm, dragging him out of the fire and smashing him to the frozen earth. The air in his lungs exploded past his teeth. For a second, he Danced with the pain, shifting its illusion away as he gulped for breath.

Raven Hunter slammed his fist repeatedly into Wolf Dreamer's face, bellowing in rage, "You're a witch! I'll kill you, bury you so your soul ..." Raven Hunter's fingers wrapped themselves around Wolf Dreamer's windpipe, choking off the air. Wolf Dreamer's lungs began to clamor. In the Dance, he watched them begin to turn blue.

"It doesn't matter," he mouthed silently. "Nothing—"

"Stop it!
Stop it!"
Dancing Fox screamed from somewhere far away.

Wolf Dreamer lay still, conscious of his body's struggle for life, feeling his brother's fingers go tighter, hearing Wolf call him again.
"Come
. . .
Come
..."

His soul shivered, longing to follow.

Raven Hunter's scream rippled like a physical thing as it tore through the People, changing the colors of their souls. He leapt up, releasing Wolf Dreamer and standing menacingly over him. "Get up!" he shouted. "Get up and fight!"

Wolf Dreamer gasped for air, lying weakly for a moment before stumbling to his feet. His throat rasped as he drew air into his lungs. A blinding flash caught him as Raven Hunter kicked him in the belly. Wolf Dreamer sat down hard, a warm rush spreading below his heart.

For a moment, he retreated into the nothingness beyond the Dance. With a curious detachment, he looked back at his suffering body. Raven Hunter had kicked him again, flopping his empty flesh sideways to heave and retch on the trampled snow.

Raven Hunter laughed, the black green of his soul sparkling as he bent down and settled his knee on Wolf Dreamer's throat. His body twitched, and Raven Hunter looked up at Dancing Fox, cackling his victory.

From the side, a bent shape scuttled out of the darkness. The soul shifted between red, green, and blue. A sparkling lance of orange-white pain shot up from one of the old woman's arms. Despite the agony it caused her, she crabbed for-

ward, keeping to the shadows behind Raven Hunter as he bellowed victory to the People.

Wolf Dreamer shifted to look back at Wolf. The beast had trotted closer. He stood so close now, Wolf Dreamer could feel his warm breath on his face.
Do I have to go back? Is there a reason to leave the peace, the silence of the One? I don't want to go back. Not even for the brief moment it will take to bring this to a close.

Wolf only stared, yellow eyes glimmering with the firelight.

Wolf Dreamer Danced back into his body as Broken Branch reached from the shadows. Despite the blinding pain from his crushed throat, despite his burning lungs, he felt the cool polished wood as the old woman thrust it in his grasping hand. The lingering essence of One Who Cries seeped from the worked wood of the foreshaft, caressing his fevered skin. Resolution. He lanced the stone-tipped dart up, following the vibrance of Raven Hunter's hard soul to the center of his brother's Dance.

Raven Hunter stiffened as Wolf Dreamer drove the dart deeply into his side. He knew—with the hunter's skill—where-the tender organs of life were most vulnerable.

Somewhere in the shadows, Broken Branch cackled happily.

Raven Hunter whirled slowly in the light of the fire, mouth open, moving soundlessly as he stared around at the People. From the wound, blood coursed down his side and leg, dripping onto the snow in bright scarlet spots.

He blundered through the fire pit, traces of flame eating up the sides of his long boots. He shrieked loudly as the coals burned through the holes in his boot soles. Howling in agony and fear, Raven Hunter bolted into the night.

In the silence, the People watched, their souls wavering in a panoply of light.

The world spinning, Wolf Dreamer turned to his father. "Once you looked into the night sky and saw the Spider among the stars. And now his web has begun to spiral. A son ... for a son."

"Come
..." Wolf's haunting voice called, and he felt a familiar velvet nose nudge his hand.

He looked down and held the beast's eyes for a moment.

Then Wolf turned and trotted to the edge of the trees, waiting.

He followed on rubbery legs, staggering toward the darkness, the mushrooms whispering with anticipation.

"Wait," One Who Cries called, coming along behind. "Where are you going?"

Wolf Dreamer reached out a trembling hand, touching One Who Cries, feeling his warm soul. "Where you can't come, old friend. To a place Wolf calls me."

"Wolf?" One Who Cries stood, a lost look on his face as he shook his head, but he stayed, watching as Wolf Dreamer faded into the dark trees.

From the shadows behind him, Broken Branch's ancient voice whispered, "Wolf Dream!"

The camp had been placed on the edge of the timber. There, a shoulder of the hills provided protection from the north winds, while from the heights, the People could see for a day's march or more over the sprawling grasslands to the south. On the gentle slopes below the camp, thick fall grasses waved in the wind. Far to the south, a range fire sent a gray-brown plume of smoke to the cloud-puffed sky. A large herd of buffalo splotched the rolling lands to the east while several mammoth grouped together under the watchful eye of an old cow in the lush drainage below. Another of the marvelous new animals—the pronghorn—ghosted fleetly across the grasslands, following in the wake of the buffalo.

One Who Cries shifted and shot a look over his shoulder at the sienna-colored lodge. "You'd think it wouldn't take so long."

Singing Wolf lifted a shoulder. "It always takes so long." Practiced fingers whittled away at the dart foreshaft he crafted so carefully.

"Can't figure. You make the best foreshafts. They have to be fit just right. A little bend and
poof!
The dart doesn't work. Can't understand how come I can't make them like that."

"Same reason I can't make a point like yours."

"Binding's still too thick." One Who Cries frowned pensively at the point he pulled from his pouch.

They sat silently for a while, One Who Cries running his

eyes over the colorful chert, Singing Wolf shaving long slivers of wood from the foreshaft.

"Moon Water still mad at Jumping Hare?"

"Does the sun come up in the east?"

"What are they doing together? You'd think he'd kick her out. That woman's nothing but trouble."

"She could be trouble in my robes anytime." Singing Wolf chuckled. "You saw what happened. What's she going to do? Go back to Red Flint's lodge? After Jumping Hare came in and offered a stack of robes as tall as a man for her? Not only that, but Red Flint got three of our darts from him! No, she's not leaving. Besides, those twin kids of hers are still his."

One Who Cries sucked in his cheeks and chewed them. "And to think we used to war with White Tusk Clan?" He looked absently out to the south. "You think Wolf Dreamer knew it would be like this?"

"Yes."

Ice Fire came to squat next to them. "I think he saw it all—and more."

"You look nervous," Singing Wolf pointed out. "Don't -be. I've been through it five times now. It's always the same."

Ice Fire smiled too quickly as he rubbed his palms back and forth. "Five times? For me ... this is a first."

"Green Water will take good care of her. Not only that, Broken Branch is in there. No bad spirit will fool with Broken Branch. White Hide goes to Tiger Belly Clan again?"

"You've seen any Enemy here we could earn it from?" Ice Fire pulled his white-shot hair back. "No, I think Tiger Belly will have the White Hide for a long time now."

"Water's still rising. After a while, they'll have to find honor somewhere else."

Ice Fire laughed. "They'll think of something."

One Who Cries turned the point and shook his head. "Too much binding."

Ice Fire cocked his head, trying to take his thoughts off the activities in the lodge behind him. "How about driving two flakes off from the base forward? You know, like grooves."

One Who Cries studied the base of the point. A skeptical look on his weather-beaten face, he pulled his sandstone from

his pouch and between grinding and some initial flaking, prepared two special platforms.

"Here goes." His tongue crept out the side of his mouth as he frowned in concentration. Like lightning, he tapped the baton across the platform, a long thinning flake snapping out of the point base.

Ice Fire beamed as One Who Cries turned the colorful stone over. He eyed the point again and grinned, driving the second flake from the other side.

"Hey!" Singing Wolf exploded. "Now, cut that out! Every time I sit down you're—"

"Oh, hush! 'Cut it out ... Cut it out.' That's all I ever hear from you. Every time I start doing a little flint knapping, you're howling about the flakes being all over! When was the last time you got stuck with one of my—"

"How about the point?" Ice Fire asked from the side.

One Who Cries sheepishly mumbled, "Oh, yeah."

He lifted it. The length of a man's hand, it gleamed in the sun, flake scars rippling to catch the light. It was made from red-banded caramel-colored chert, its parallel sides ending in a keen point. The base was concave below the new flake scar. One Who Cries turned it over.

"It worked," One Who Cries said breathlessly. "Look!" He grabbed the foreshaft from Singing Wolf's hand, fitting the fluted point into the binding. "That's it!"

Ice Fire and Singing Wolf leaned close, sighs of admiration escaping their lips.

"You know," Ice Fire mused. "That's almost too pretty to throw into an animal."

One Who Cries glowed.

Behind them, the voices of the women grew louder. Ice Fire stiffened. Even Singing Wolf—old veteran that he was-- cocked his head, eyes tense.

The squall of the child carried shrill in the still air.

Moments later, Broken Branch hobbled out of the tent, beaming a toothless smile through her wrinkles.

"A boy." She chuckled. "Ha-heeee! As if the Dreamer hadn't known!"

A curious feeling swelled in Ice Fire's chest. "A son for a son. Yes ..." For a moment, he twisted his hands nervously in his lap, thinking about Wolf Dreamer. They'd searched for

him that night after the fight, but had found no traces—not even tracks marred the snow.

But the wolves had howled triumphantly for days.