Dancing Fox huddled at the edge of the knot of people who stood at the corner of the big shelter. She stared out across the snow-blasted wastes, heart numb, watching three men buck the snow.
Runs In Light walked in front, Wind Woman flapping his worn caribou-skin parkas, the creases of his garments lined white where snow had caked and frozen. A whisper of awe rose as the last of the light caught his face.
Fox lifted a mittened hand to her mouth. Look how he has painted his face! Red lines of blood ran down around his cheeks, circling his mouth like a muzzle. In speckle-dried blood, the image of what might have been either a bear or wolf faced left on his forehead.
Her heart raced. Look at the oddness gleaming behind his eyes—like a whale-oil fire in the night. He’s seen something powerful. Maybe spirits do exist?
“Hah—heeee!” Broken Branch shrilled, wild gray strands of hair whipping in Wind Woman’s grasp. She raised a bony arm, knobby brown finger stabbing through the glacial air. “There … There’s a Dreamer! See the light in his face? Spirit has walked there. Spirit has drawn marks of a powerful Dreaming!” She bobbed in excitement.
Dancing Fox stared fearfully at Crow Caller. He loomed black against the driven white. Tight jaw muscles jumped beneath his sunken cheeks.
“My brother?” Raven Hunter scoffed. “A Spirit Dreamer? More likely he conjures images of snowflakes in sunlight.”
Fox squared her shoulders, feeling his gleaming black eyes trace the lines of her face. She looked away, hearing him as he approached to stand beside her. Teeth gritted, she kept her eyes on Runs In Light.
“My brother’s mind is simple, woman,” Raven Hunter whispered softly. “His thoughts are in a different world than yours or mine.”
She swallowed and looked up into his hard face. “How would you know?”
“Your devious ideas lie on your face like tracks in fresh snow,” Raven Hunter said, sarcastic humor and something else, something painful, in his eyes. “And it’s not just me who sees them.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“I think you do.” Smiling, he walked away, lithe, a predator even in starvation. Curse him to be buried, did he have to be so sure of himself? Something, the way his eyes looked, made her wonder. Haughty or not, Raven Hunter rarely made mistakes. That was his genius, knowing how souls—human and animal—worked.
Two children broke from the knot, stumbling out to greet Jumping Hare and One Who Cries as they tramped nearer, bearing angular chunks of frozen wolf meat.
The only burden Runs In Light bore dangled gray from his shoulders: wolf’s hide, head still attached, eyes crystal-frozen and dull.
“Runs In Light brings meat!” Jumping Hare cried. Then his voice thrummed higher, like walrus gut in the sun. “And he brings a Dream!”
They waited, tense, staring at the red-white slabs of meat on the hunter’s shoulders, minds on the promise of life it bestowed. A Dream? A Spirit Dream?
Runs In Light stopped at the edge of their circle; he looked from face to face. Everything stilled except for Wind Woman, who playfully harassed their clothing, tickling their faces with loose strands of hair.
“Tell us,” Broken Branch cackled eagerly into the silence.
“Wolf Dream,” he said softly, face stony. “But not here in the cold. Let’s go inside before Wind Woman takes all our warmth and blows it to the Long Dark.”
“Cut up the meat!” Crow Caller snapped sourly. “Don’t play games, boy. People are hungry.”
“No,” Runs In Light responded with eerie calmness. “Wolf gave the meat to me to take us south. He came in a Dream and showed me the way. His body will keep the People strong on the journey. Heart blood runs in my veins—it is the way.”
“Bah! You? You’re just a boy! You wouldn’t know a Spirit Dream if it—”
“You dare! Look at him! Look and see Power! The
Dream’s in his eyes.” Broken Branch whirled, a crooked finger lancing dangerously up toward Crow Caller’s face.
Fox caught her breath as Runs In Light’s eyes swirled and shifted, reminding her of the way wolves’ eyes gleamed beyond the butchering fires at night.
“We go north.” Crow Caller’s hand swung, pointing to where Father Sun brightened the far horizon. “I, too, have Dreamed … boy. Mammoth calls us back the way we came. Like I told you all last Long Light. Remember? Let’s go back—”
“Then go.” Runs In Light lifted his chin. “Spirit Power comes where it will. It’s not a thing of men. Wolf gave me his Power. The Wolf Dream will take me—and those of the People who will follow—to the south. There in the Big Ice—”
“Lies death!” Crow Caller’s voice cracked.
As Runs In Light’s eyes fell on him, the old shaman wet his lips and stepped backward, as though he feared the boy. Frosty breath plumed white in the feeble glare. Snow-shot wind stinging their faces, the People backed away.
“Death! You hear, boy?” Crow Caller’s white eye glowed baleful while his black one sparked like flint against granite. “Monsters climb in the ice. The souls of the lost dead sing from there.” He turned, pointing to each of the People in turn. “When you get close to the Big Ice, you’ll hear them … creaking and groaning, their bones cracking under the weight. They’ll kill you! We have to go north.” “You go north,” Broken Branch shouted. “Maybe you and you alone are supposed to be killed by the Others.”
Hobbling to Runs In Light, she hooked taloned fingers in his worn skins. “See me, boy. Look at me. See … see … the Dream?” She drew his face so close to hers that their condensed breath mingled in a white cloud to curl around their heads.
For a long second she stood stiffly, fingers tight around the back of his neck. Then she pulled him closer still, eyes almost touching.
“Ha-heee!” she wheezed, letting him go and stumbling back, arms circling for balance. She sat down suddenly, crooning to herself as the People watched in frightened fascination.
“Fools, both of them,” Raven Hunter grunted from behind.
“Grandmother?” Laughing Sunshine grabbed one of the crone’s withered hands. “What’s in Light’s eyes?”
“Dream …” the old woman whispered. Slack-jawed, she stared absently at nothing. “Wolf’s in his eyes. Wolf …”
One Who Cries shifted, turning uneasily to Crow Caller. “Is this true? You’ve led us many places … healed us when we were sick. Runs In Light says your vision is wrong. How do we know who’s right?”
“He’s a boy,” Crow Caller said flatly. “He plays games with the survival of the People. Dreams take fasting and preparation. You don’t—”
“He hasn’t eaten for four days,” Laughing Sunshine blurted. “He gave his food to me … for the baby.” She pointed a trembling finger at the death drift.
“Aiieee …” Gray Rock, age-thin lips twisting in her wrinkled face, turned beady black eyes to Runs In Light. “Four days, eh? Spirit number. Like the way of Father Sun over the heart of Earth. Opposites crossed.”
“He’s a boy!” Crow Caller shouted, shaking a fist.
Runs In Light trembled as if the shaman’s horny hand had slapped him. “Wolf came to me. He’ll save those who go south. He showed me the break in the Big Ice where we can pass. Beyond is mammoth. Buffalo are there. Caribou grows new antlers in green grass.”
Dancing Fox’s mouth parted as she met Light’s eyes. “I see the Dream,” she whispered. “It’s there. Reflected in his—”
“Get inside the shelter!” the old shaman ordered. “Go warm my robes. We go north tomorrow … and I want a good night’s rest first.”
“No,” she said. Stunned by his anger, she looked up at him, uncomprehending, feet rooted to the spot. Rage burned fiercely in the old man’s thin face. He drew back his hand to strike her.
She threw up her arms in defense, stumbling away, murmuring, “Don’t touch me!”
“Go!” Crow Caller shouted.
As she scuttled toward the shelters, she glimpsed the
sharpness in Runs In Light’s face as he stepped forward. Broken Branch placed a restraining hand on the youth’s shoulder.
Crawling through the flap, she heard her husband’s powerful voice: “Don’t listen to this child! Mammoth lie just over there … to the north! I’ve seen our hunters surround them, driving darts deeply into bawling calves. The mothers whirl, trunks lifted to seek Wind Woman for our presence. But we’re cunning! The calves flounder in the deep snow, their blood soaking our darts. The herd stampedes, running north, and we harvest—”
“Liar!” Broken Branch raged. “You see nothing. You make this up as you speak. There’s no Dream in your eyes.”
Fox cringed as the sharp slap carried through the shelter. Huddling in Crow Caller’s robes, she pulled them over her head to block the continuing sound of flesh on flesh. Anger so violent filled her that she retched suddenly into the corner, her stomach twisting in pain.
She feared for the old woman, and for herself, for defying Crow Caller. As she had shamed him today, he would shame her tonight. She curled into a ball, wincing against the agony she knew would come.
Crow Caller drew his hand back to strike Broken Branch again. The old woman rocked away, crabbing over ice, muttering to herself. Cloud Mother crept through the grayness overhead, streaking the sky with ribbons of pink and orange.
“Leave her alone,” Runs In Light said tightly, the vision of Dancing Fox’s terrified face sharp in his mind. Wolf flowed rich and strong in his veins. Deep in his soul, a hatred rose for this old man who tortured his people.
“What? Words of valor from my brother?” Raven Hunter said, arms crossed as he watched.
“You would break the People’s peace?” Crow Caller accused. “You? You would threaten me?”
“There’s no peace when an old woman suffers. You’ve already broken the—”
“Don’t tell me.” Crow Caller pulled himself straight, chest thrown out. “I have the right to punish where—”
“No one has that right. Not even—”
“I’ll kill you, boy. My Spirit Power is great!” Livid, the old shaman grinned, revealing yellowed and broken teeth.
Crouching low, his skinny arm snaked out of his sleeve, tracing magical signs in the air.
Runs In Light took a deep breath, nervously fingering his darts. “Wolf protects. I don’t fear you.” But he did. Once too often he’d seen the powerful effects of the old man’s magic. Silently, he prayed to Wolf for courage.
Hushed whispers swirled behind him, feet sliding on snow to clear a space so the two shamans could face each other alone. Power sizzled on the frigid air.
“In four weeks,” Crow Caller sang in a haunting melody with his head thrown back, “your stomach will ache from turning itself inside out …” Soon the chant became incomprehensible. The old man raised his arms, and his voice trembled to the sky as he cavorted in an unknown dance.
Runs In Light squeezed his eyes shut. Crow Caller’s Spirit Power chafed at the edges of his soul. “Wolf protects me … .” he repeated over and over, heart throbbing. “He won’t let me die until I reach the land beyond the Big Ice.” He touched the blood-wolf effigy on his forehead. “Wolf leads me south to the land of the Father Sun. I follow the Wolf Dream.”
Crow Caller’s Power seemed to ebb at the edges of his being. Runs In Light opened his eyes and smiled his relief at the old shaman where he danced.
Awed exclamations erupted behind him, at the demonstration of his Power. Broken Branch grabbed up her toes, rocking back and forth like Grandfather Brown Bear. A grin exposed her toothless black gums and pink tongue.
“Wolf Dream!” her gravelly voice cracked. “Ha-heee! I go south with Runs In Light. I go south with Wolf!”
Father Sun slid below the jagged horizon to the southwest, darkness accenting the hollowness of the People’s cheeks and eyes. Dusk descended like opalescent veils of smoke. The wavering brilliant fires made by the Monster Children’s war rose in rainbow patterns to light the northern sky. The Twins had fought from the beginning of time, one good, the other bad, locked in eternal combat.
“You go south to death! Hear me, Father Sun! I, Crow Caller, have your Dream. Feel my Power? I curse these … these traitors! Their souls will never reach the Blessed Star
People. Death!” he shrieked, pirouetting, arms spread like an eagle to end in a low crouch facing Runs In Light.
“I follow Wolf. Anyone who eats the meat of Wolf follows my Dream.” Turning, Runs In Light weaved through the crowd to duck beneath the shelter flap.