People of the Wolf (38 page)

"I don't understand."

Heron puffed out her cheeks and spewed an exhale. "I

don't either. That's why I woke Wolf Dreamer up last night. I had to talk to him."

' 'You told him more than just about the Dream. The yellow rock from the geyser. The white crystals from under the mammoth dung. The herbs for medicine."

"They might come in handy. He'll have to know one of these days. He's learned a lot, more than he can even imagine. I just hope he knows enough."

Broken Branch shifted, watching cautiously from the corner of her eyes. "You act like you're not going to be around to finish teaching him?"

"Maybe not."

"What are you talking about!"

Slowly Heron shook her head. "All my life, from the time I left Bear Hunter, I've been in control of things—even if it was just observation. But the world is changing, people are dying and I don't understand it."

"You can't understand everything in the world, Heron. Father Sun made—"

"Ah, but I can see the patterns, old woman." She squeezed her eyelids tightly closed before heaving a tired sigh. "At least I used to be able to, but they're all jumbled up now. Broken and scattered like caribou bones in the spring. The old Dream paths are blocked, the new ones terrifying. Something's coming. I won't sit here and wait for it. No, old woman, I'm a seeker. I'll
know
what it is before it comes to swallow me!"

"Spirit knowledge took the place of Bear Hunter, eh?"

Their eyes held, Heron's going soft and watery. "Yes."

"That's why you sent the boy away? You're going to fight this . . . thing?"

Heron paused, biting her lip, brow furrowed. "He'd distract me. Maybe see something he's not ready for yet. Canny, that one, sees things too clearly for his years sometimes. No, he might be hurt by all this."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hush! I
need to see,
don't you understand?"

Firelight flickered over Broken Branch's taut face, her eyes fearful. "You need to see. What of it?"

"You, you're of it." Heron arched her back, filling her lungs deeply, beginning the preparation.

"I'm of it?"

"Unfortunately."

"What do you—"

"Go stay below the pool. I don't know. ..." She stopped when a quaver touched her voice. Gathering herself, she finished strongly. "I don't know how long it'll take, but don't come back until I call you. Understand? If you were to interrupt, break my concentration ... I don't know what might happen."

Broken Branch got slowly to her feet, shaking her head. "You're a crazy old curlew, Heron. I'm going. Do your Dreaming, you old—"

"Broken Branch?"

"What?"

"About Bear Hunter ..."

Broken Branch pursed her lips, dropping her eyes. "I was young then, the juices of life, ran hot in my body. My heart ached for him. What I did—"

"Did you make him happy?"

"He never bedded another. When he went hunting, he ran . all the way home to be with me and our children. We talked , . . laughed. Our children all lived to have families of their own. He used to love to rock the grandchildren on his knees at night."

"How did he die?"

"It was quick. Mammoth swung his trunk, Bear Hunter lost his footing and couldn't get out of the way."

Heron nodded in the long silence. "I could never have given him the things you did. Dreamers can never really love, Broken Branch. It's . . . it's a curse, you see. Dreamers who love destroy themselves or those they love. It's a fatal flaw. I tried to tell Wolf Dreamer. I hope he understands."

"Either he did or he didn't. You tried."

Heron nodded, smiling wistfully. "Get out of here. Whatever you hear, whatever you see, leave me alone! Understand? Alone ... or you'll kill me."

Broken Branch's wrinkled mouth worked. "I'll not meddle in your Dreams, Heron." She lifted the hide flaps and disappeared into the bright midday sun.

Heron watched the flap wave slowly back and forth. She hesitated, dread making her hands tremble. "Get up, you old

fool," she cursed herself for delaying. "There's no other way."

Jaw thrust forward, she stood, reaching for the mushrooms. Gently, she laid them near the fire, then grasped her bundle of willow stems, rich and red, and threw a handful into the gut bag hanging from the tripod near the fire. As they absorbed the water, their pungent scent filled the shelter.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and stared at the mushrooms, speaking intimately. "How long has it been? It was the night Wolf Dreamer called to me from the mists. You remember, don't you?"

The bag of mushrooms glowed darkly in the flames.

"We wrestled like two bears. ..." She swallowed hard, feeling the fear in her gut widen. Her voice came barely audible, "You almost killed me. . . . Remember?"

She jerked her eyes from the bag and poked at the fire, getting the coals to even out. At the fringes of her consciousness, she could feel the presence of Broken Branch out below the pool. A distraction, still a distraction.

"Concentrate!" she reprimanded harshly. "She won't disturb you. She said she wouldn't."

Behind her, she heard a soft murmuring of voices and turned to stare at the mushrooms; they were calling her, beckoning like a lover.

"I'm coming," she choked out. Tears welled powerfully.

With shaking hands, she reached for the soaked willow stems. Chanting the old song, she cast the first handful into the flames. They sizzled wildly, steam and sacred smoke twisting through the soot-thick vent above.

Dropping her face in her hands, she fought the terror writhing in her breast.

The mushrooms whispered, their eerie voices echoing from the cold stone walls.

As darkness fell, the brilliant lights of the Monster Children's War stained the sky, bands of orange, red, blue, and green undulating across the heavens. The People stopped to set up camp. Babies wailed their hunger, dogs yapping as men and women dropped their packs and went about gathering wood for supper fires.

"Where's Talon?" Dancing Fox asked, looking around.

Singing Wolf straightened, his keen eyes cataloging faces. "I don't see her. I guess I'd better go back and look. Maybe she stopped."

"I'll go." Dancing Fox stared uneasily at the falling dark.

"Alone? There might be—"

"Don't worry." She smiled slyly at him. "I lived out there alone, for several turnings of Moon Woman. I'll be fine. Besides, Talon's my responsibility. You keep camp in order, I'll find her."

He looked uncertain, but nodded.

Dancing Fox took her darts, walking swiftly back down the trail they'd made, scuff marks of the People's long boots marking the way where the snow had drifted in the lee of the rocks.

How long since she'd seen her? An hour? Maybe two? She'd become involved in a conversation with Green Water, talking about the Others.

Shadows stretched as the evening darkened. An owl hooted out in the rocks. Three crows passed overhead, their wings rasping on the air while they clucked and cooed to each other. Stillness settled on the land, dropping with the mantle of night.

"Talon?" Her voice carried like a bleat in the evening.

She picked up her feet to trot, eyes searching the trail as she wound around glacial cobbles.

"Talon?"

"Here, girl," it came as a faint echo on the wavering breezes.

Weaving through a jagged scatter of boulders, she found her.

Talon rested on a smooth granite slab. Behind her, boulders had been piled by the retreating glacier to form a shelter from the wind. Silt and sand had blown in to stop the gaps in the gray rock. A few tendrils of exploring wormwood hung from the precarious dirt. Overhead, the sky darkened, scattered clouds drifting down from the north.

Talon looked up, meeting her eyes. She worked her wrinkled lips over toothless gums and shook her head wryly before smiling. A twinkle reflected from the ancient eyes as she braced herself.

"Found me, eh?"

"You get lost, or stop to—"

"Can't go on, girl."

Fox bent over the old woman where she sat, hands clutching up one bony knee. "What?"

"It's just that time, is all," Talon said easily, head cocked to look up at Fox. "I've been holding the rest back, always the last in line. I think I'll just find a nice spot and sit."

"No, Talon. We're making camp. You can—"

"No." A delicate hand reached up to pat her as understanding dawned and Fox's eyes widened. "Now, child, don't start that. I've been around long enough to know how these things work. I can feel death close. My soul's itching to go." She waved toward the few gleaming stars poking through the rainbow blanket flooding the sky.

A hollow expanse spread in Fox's stomach; she whispered, "What will I do without you?"

Talon laughed. "Oh, you'll get along, child. I'm proud of you. You've got spirit like women in the old days. Ah, that day you grabbed Mouse by the throat made my heart warm. And then do you remember that dart cast you made before Renewal? Knocked that snow goose right out of the air! Lot of men can't make the beat of that!"

"Come on, you've rested now. Let's go. The People aren't camped more than a dart's throw over that hill up there. I should have kept better watch. If I would have—"

"Would have nothing," Talon grunted. "Took me two days of hobbling on these worn-out legs to finally get a chance to

sneak away. And Green Water was enjoying talking to you. Good woman, that Green Water."

"But you can't—"

"Of course I can." She pushed Dancing Fox away. "It's a matter of responsibility. Look at me. I can't work hides. I fall asleep when I'm supposed to be caring for the children while the women are out hunting, trapping, and picking plants. Besides, I know I'm going to die this Long Dark."

"You don't know that."

"I do. And Fox, knowing that, what's better for the People? Should I sit around and eat up the meat stores, take food out of a baby's mouth? No, you never can tell about Long Darks. Food's critical."

"What if I want you to have mine?"

Talon grinned tenderly. "You're a good girl, but I wouldn't eat it."

"Why not?"

"I've drained myself dry, Fox, teaching stories and what I know about hunting and gathering. That's how it works among the People. We pass things on. You live like I showed you, and one of these years, you'll teach someone. That's what's important."

Dancing Fox shook her head. "I can't see how you know you're going to die."

Talon laughed. "The young never can."

"Camp's just a little way up the trail. At least go that far. I'll help you with—"

"No, child." Talon shook her head. "Go on, leave me. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I know better. The best I can do, I've done. You go find your Dreamer, girl. Find your future."

Dancing Fox closed her eyes, sinking down to hold the old woman's skeletal hand. "I . . .I'll stay. Keep you company. Make a shelter for—"

"Go," Talon whispered gently. "I might hang on here for days. You'd be late in finding your Dreamer.''

"I'll find him later. Let me—"

"Fox?"

"Hmmm?"

"About this Dreamer. You've never known a real Dreamer and I'm afraid—"

"I saw Runs In Light after the Wolf Dream. And I was married to Crow Caller.''

"It's not the same."

"What?" she asked with trepidation, seeing the old woman's hesitation.

Talon sighed, lungs wheezing. "The old Dreamers, the real ones . . . Well, I've never seen one with a mate."

"I don't understand."

Talon clucked her lips. "I figured you didn't. I never said much about your Runs In Light and all, but, child, if he's been with Heron you may not know him when you meet him."

"That's silly, of course I will. I've known him since I was—"

"That's not what I mean." Talon leaned her head back, old eyes scanning the stars. "Fox, Dreams change people. Something happens inside their heads. They lose interest in things of this world. In friends—especially lovers."

"But a Dreamer's just like anyone else. I mean, Crow Caller wasn't any different than—"