People of the Wolf (12 page)

"She was on your own tracks, Crow Caller," Raven Hunter said, "following them back to Mammoth Camp."

"Liar!" Defiantly, she met his eyes, seeing the ironic sympathy there. He looked away.

"She can't help it," he added in a low voice. "She must protest. She has nothing left. But I ... I ask you, Crow Caller. Take her back. She's not a bad woman, just confused and foolish—"

"I won't go back!" she cried. "I hate him!"

The People gasped, staring in fear at Crow Caller. The old

man's good eye blazed while the white one branded her with unseeing malice. The shaman flexed and unflexed his fists, then violently kicked her in the side where she lay. A small wretched cry of agony rose in her throat. Getting to her knees, she retched over and over, her empty stomach writhing in frenzied cramps.

She looked up at Raven Hunter, pleading soundlessly with him. And if she accused him of rape? No, it had gone too far. Who'd believe her? She bent her head.

"She tried to escape to my worthless brother," he said softly, as though it distressed him greatly to discuss it. "I brought her back to her rightful place beside her husband."

"Get up!" Crow Caller ordered, grabbing her chin and twisting her neck to stare into her tear-filled eyes. She tried to stumble to her feet, but weakness overcame her and she fell back to the ice.

"From this moment forward," her husband raged into the howling of Wind Woman, "I condemn this woman's spirit to spiral downward away from the Blessed Star People. When she dies, her body will be buried. Her soul will remain locked in the ground forever with the roots and mold and rot. She has shamed our clan!"

Fox saw old friends shake their heads and walk toward the shelters. Some of the young women stood awkwardly a moment, staring at her before they, too, shunned her. Only Gray Rock remained, hunched old and frail beneath her furs.

"Crow Caller," the old woman said timidly. "Don't hurt her. She's just young—"

"Get away from here!" he screamed, slashing the air with his arm. "Do you want me to curse your legs so they lose their strength and you can't keep up with the clan?"

Gray Rock cringed. "No, but you—"

"Then go!"

She cast a glance of regret and sorrow at Fox before turning to hobble away toward the shelter.

Crow Caller knelt, horny fingers gouging into her arm as
he probed her eyes threateningly. "People will laugh behind
my back. They'll say I wasn't man enough to keep my own
wife home." -"

"So, live with the truth for once."

'
'Shut up!''
he shouted, backhanding her so powerfully her head slapped loudly against the ice.

Dizzy and nauseated again, she lay limp, feeling the frigid breath of Wind Woman caress her face. She heard the scuff of ivory and stone on leather as the old shaman drew his knife from its sheath.

Better to die. Feel me calling you, Runs In Light? Beloved, I tried to reach you. Not your fault. . . don't blame yourself.

She opened her eyes in time to see Crow Caller's long obsidian blade glittering glassy in the pale light and held her breath as he wrapped his fingers in her hair. Her heart beat a throbbing cadence as she tried to swallow down a fear-knotted throat.

"Dreamer?" Raven Hunter said, grabbing the old man's hand and staying the knife. "She's disgraced you, made a mockery of your leadership among the People. But this is wrong."

"Hush!" Crow Caller's cheeks reddened, breathing quickening. "I'll kill her to erase the—"

' 'But death is so easy."

' 'It's no longer your affair!''

Raven Hunter shrugged, releasing the old man's quaking hand. "True. But think about it. If you let her live, you can shame her every day for the pain she's caused. That's a far more just punishment than ending her misery now.''

His voice sounded so reasonable and controlled, but Dancing Fox swallowed at the desperation in his eyes. One of the long darts rested in his fingers, poised to strike.

The old shaman stiffened, blinking thoughtfully as he stared
down at his wife. He wiped his mouth with his hand. "Make
her an outcast? " -

Raven Hunter nodded. "That way she'll survive only if people throw her scraps of food. Or on what she can scavenge, like a crow.''

"Yes . . ."

Fox closed her eyes.
And you can torment me whenever you want.
"Husband," she said imploringly. "Kill me. I'm no use—"

"No one will share their scraps. We're all hungry," Crow Caller said thoughtfully, rubbing his wrinkled jaw as a slow smile crept over his face.

Raven Hunter smiled in return. "This way, her death will be a lingering one and—"

"Live, woman! And see what it gets you," the old man bellowed. Looming over her, he whispered malevolently, "In one turning of Moon Woman's face,
you'll wish I'd slit your throat.''

She gazed absently at the distant peaks that glowed a dusty purple. Runs In Light would be there by now, going through the hole in the ice to paradise beyond. She imagined his face, the softness in his eyes when he looked at her—and her soul cried in silent misery.

"I'll tell the People," Crow Caller said. She heard his retreating footsteps.

After a few moments, Raven Hunter exhaled loudly, kneeling beside her. He lifted her chin, forcing her to face him. He reminded her so much of Light . . . except for the cold glitter in his eyes.

"I thought for a second I'd have to kill him. But it looks like we passed the test. Now we must—"

"What test?"

He frowned as though thinking her stupid. "Didn't I tell you? There'll be many on the path. But don't worry, I'll make sure you have enough food so you'll have the strength."

"Why?"

His face softened. "Because I love you. And you're important to the future of the . . ." He paused, cocking his head and staring absently at the cloud-strewn sky. "I don't know how exactly. But someday, I'll need you. Remember the life you owe me."

As she gazed into his crazed and glassy eyes, a tremor shook her.

"Don't worry," he said. As if quieting the hysterics of a child, Raven Hunter closed his hands around her trembling mittens. "I told you, I'll take care of you."

Somewhere out in the drifts, a wolf yipped, his mournful howling carrying on the wind.

In the milky light of the evening sun, Wind Woman swirled the clouds into long stringers of gold and picked at the bones of the People. A thin gilding of frost lined their hoods. Dark circles beneath their hard eyes, the People squinted ahead to the endless tiers of stark ridges.

One Who Cries looked back at the staggering line of people, working their way up the long ridge. Broken Branch came at the end, placing her feet carefully on the snow-blown rock. Three of the little children paced in front of her. Ahead, farther up the ridge, the one they now called Wolf Dreamer plodded onward, darts over his shoulder, pushed by the lure of his Dream.

One Who Cries glanced at Jumping Hare. His young cousin looked as worn as the ancient landscape. Wiping crusted ice from the hood fur around his jaw, he squinted against the frigid blasts ripping the land. "Four weeks, Crow Caller said. Four weeks until we'd feel hunger.''

Jumping Hare pursed his lips tightly. "We've caught what? Three rabbits since we left Mammoth Camp?"

"And that's been only a week," One Who Cries grumbled miserably, staring at Wolf Dreamer's back. ' 'We should have gone back."

"One way's as good as another," Green Water whispered. "We could have starved just as easily in Mammoth Camp."

One Who Cries lowered his eyes and lifted one hide-wrapped foot in front of the other, keeping the slow pace, knowing from experience that the night would be upon them before they made the crest of the ridge. Shame burned in his breast. Had he lost faith in the Wolf Dream so quickly?

Step-by-step, they climbed, testing the footing with the deliberateness of hunger-weak muscles. No extra move wasted what precious energy remained in their tired limbs.

"Spirits," Jumping Hare muttered under his breath. "Runs In Light had to hear Wolf. Had to run out and get mixed up in Spirit Power."

"You still believe that?" Singing Wolf asked, condescendingly.

"You don't?"

"Wolf wouldn't torture us to death if we were following his Dream."

"Hush. We had to do something," Laughing Sunshine chided. "You don't notice the women complaining, carrying on. We save our breath and effort for walking. If men had sense, so would they."

A heavy silence fell. They glanced back and forth uncertainly. In the distance, Father Sun's face wavered silver through the blanket of clouds, crawling downward.

"Maybe it's a test of our faith." Green Water sighed.

One Who Cries looked up to the gray sky. "Starving isn't a bad way to die. There's worse. There's bad teeth that rot and swell a man's jaw with pus. There's the joint-pain where a man hobbles in agony, his joints grinding and burning. A fellow can always break his leg out away from help-be eaten by Grandfather Brown Bear. And remember old Walrus Tusk? His legs swelled up fit to bust his long boots.-Then his water got bloody. And then there was—"

"Hush!" Green Water said in exasperation.

Ice Fire woke in the night. Around him, he could hear the soft breathing of his clan. Over his head, the vicious wind rippled the hide roof of the shelter. In the darkness, he could see condensed breath rising from the robes around him. He shifted his position beneath the soft piles of hides, frowning into the sea-scented darkness.

A curious dream; he'd been walking, seeking something in the south. Behind him came the White Tusk Clan, hungry, trusting, and through it all he'd wondered if he'd been betrayed by some Power in the night. Yet, as he led his band up the rocky hills, they could feel eyes upon them, someone watching from above. There, on the side of that windswept hill, he'd turned, casting a searching look to the cloudy skies.

And he'd seen her eyes, staring down: The Watcher!

As he resettled himself, he tried to shake the feeling of premonition. The haunting call echoed around the edges of his mind. He blinked, yawned, and rolled over, trying to sleep again. Hours later, he pushed back the robes, putting

on his outside parka and heading for the cold trap and the doorway.

"Can't sleep again, Elder?"

"No, Red Flint, my old friend." He paused, feeling the chill of the deep blackness seeping up from where he held the door flap slightly ajar. "At times I wonder if I'm slowly losing my mind."

Red Flint stirred in his furs and reached out, prodding the ashes in the fire pit, exposing a red eye of coal. "So, you were going out to walk around the night like some homeless ghost again?"

Ice Fire lifted a shoulder as Red Flint pulled on his parka and bent over to blow on the coal, feeding a bit of dried moss to the tiny eye, coaxing a blaze with bits of willow stems and dried leaves.

"The light might wake someone up," Ice Fire said, gesturing to the sleeping bundles around them.

Red Flint grinned in the glow; humor pulled the lines of his flat face into comic patterns. "I doubt it. You kept them up too late retelling the story of the Sky Spider spinning the web that holds up the sun and the sky. No, they'll sleep."

Ice Fire settled himself on the foot of his friend's robes, crossing his legs carefully. He grunted acceptance and stared into the flickering yellow flames.

"You're not gonna die, are you? Sometimes men can't sleep before they die."

Ice Fire bowed his head and chuckled softly. "Not yet."

"Then what's bothering you?"

He reached a long-boned hand for a willow stem and slowly poked the blaze with a length as he thought. Where to begin? "I dreamed of an old woman—a witch. I . . ." He frowned. "I know her. At least, I've felt her before."

"You old dog, you! Been feeling women? You're not ready to die . : . except for maybe your taste? Now, I "got this daughter, Moon Water. She's budded out. Make you a good—"

"Do you want to hear this?" he asked irritably.

"I'm sorry. You just seemed so ... Well, I thought maybe teasing would help."

Ice Fire slapped a hand to his friend's knee and paused for

a time, staring at the flames. "You remember me telling you about the woman I caught by the sea years ago?"

"The Enemy woman," Red Flint nodded, eyes gleaming. "Yes."