Anxiously, Wolf Dreamer looked out over the rugged land. It undulated in sharp peaks. Wind Woman’s harsh breath left them tottering on their feet. The emptiness provided no solace. In the crevasses, thick stands of willow and dwarf birch locked the snow, making hazardous traps into which he’d
fallen more than once, floundering out with a dangerous waste of energy. Slick ice slopes had to be negotiated, treacherous footing always a peril. He could risk no fall, no broken bones. It would mean his death.
And the People were his responsibility.
Like the weight of a mammoth tusk on his shoulders, the burden bore down on him. The taste of Wolf’s blood rested eternally on the back of his tongue, the fire of the Dream pushing him onward.
It had been real.
As tormented days passed, he fought to convince himself that Wolf hadn’t played trickster with him. To joke so with the lives of the People lay outside his comprehension. Runs In Light stopped, leaning on his dart shafts, looking out at the piled rock where snow packed the rounded gray boulders.
“Another Dream Hunt?” he whispered, feeling the presence of the Soul Eaters of the Long Dark hovering close, held at bay for these few short hours of light. “I’m too tired.” If only I could rest, lie down in the snow, and let the Long Dark suck my life away into Wind Woman’s chant. Death would be release. He clenched his jaw, silently chastising himself. Coward.
He took a deep breath and drove himself over the crest of a ridge, forcing his crying body beyond its feeble limitations. Behind him they came, bellies hollow, the flesh of their faces sagging, accusation in their eyes. Most no longer believed in the hole in the ice.
“Wolf?” he pleaded hoarsely. “Lead me.”
He looked back, seeing One Who Cries and Jumping Hare stop and begin cutting into the side of a tapered drift. With a sharpened bison scapula, they removed blocks of frozen snow, gouging out a shelter with the shoulder bone.
“Must we camp here?” he whispered.
He saw Broken Branch and the sight filled him with pity. She still waddled along, sallow-faced, the glow of the Dream in her eyes.
Clenching his fist, he walked away from the digging—away from the People.
Wind Woman blew twisting wraiths of snow over him in a veil. The crystals clattered in muted defiance across the empty
land. Upward, ever upward, how far had they climbed into these craggy hills? Cold and desolate, this land around them could have been the chill spine of some monster of the ice. Wind-ravaged and worn, the blue-black rock loomed, massive in the darkening night.
“So many mouths, Wolf. So little food.”
Out of sight of the camp, Runs In Light sank to his knees, mittens clutching the forever snow.
“Was my Dream false?” he cried to the gathering spirits of the Dark. Head bowed, he could feel them rustle restlessly around him, their fingers already pulling at his soul.
Moonlight tarnished the slopes, gleaming silver from the polished drifts. Yellow hollows flickered and shimmered where moss and birch fires illuminated shelter holes dug into the snow. Through wavering clouds, the Star People glistened, watching.
Dancing Fox crouched behind the shelter, listening to the turmoil inside. Weeping pierced the haunting death songs. Gray Rock had grown desperately weak, her frail old body unable to take the long torturous days of endless walking and climbing. A deep aching regret tormented Fox. She wanted to rush inside and hold the old woman in her arms, rocking her back and forth while she poured out words of love and gratitude.
But she was an outcast. She could not enter the lodge unless someone mercifully asked her to, and she feared Gray Rock was too far gone for that.
She shuddered there in the bitter cold, her breath a white mist in the air. Wind stung her face, carrying the pitiful mourning of wolves.
“Why don’t you leave?” she whispered angrily to herself. But she both knew and hated the reasons. They were too far away from Runs In Light now and she feared the snowstorms had long since covered the trail he’d left for her. She could not touch the food reserves of the clan. If she ran away, it would be without food or weapons.
A hollowness throbbed below her heart. If only she could reach Runs In Light, he’d help her, comfort her. Knowing that only made her struggle for survival more unbearable.
The singing inside stopped suddenly.
Twining fingers tightly in her parka, she waited, fearing the worst. Feet crunched softly on snow behind her.
“She was a good woman,” Raven Hunter said regretfully. “I’m sorry Jumping Hare isn’t here.”
Her back muscles crawled. “I wish I could—”
“You can’t,” he said sympathetically. “They fear your cursed soul would interfere with her rise to the Blessed Star People.”
She looked up at him. His brooding eyes gleamed darkly in the reflected moonlight. “Why did you come out?”
He crouched beside her in the dark and she could feel his warmth on her face. “I had another glimpse in there.”
“Of what?”
“We’ll see the death of the People, you and I. Unless something is done.”
“So?” she spat hatefully.
Wails rose sharply in the shelter to pierce the wind. Bitterly, she murmured, “She’s dead.”
She closed her eyes, trying not to think of the dead they’d left behind. Old Talon would be next. She already staggered on wobbly legs. Where would the deaths end?
“I placed some meat in your pack. It’s not much. Some strips I salvaged from a winter-killed buffalo. What the wolves left, I cleaned up before the crows got it. I’ll bring the bones in tomorrow. There’s enough bone butter there to keep another couple of souls with their bodies for a while longer.”
She ignored him, staring dry-eyed at the shelter, remembering the little scraps of food Gray Rock had left from her share of the band’s scavenged meals. Such a welcome kindness. Gray Rock had been one of the few to share, to talk guardedly and wink occasional support.
“I’ll miss Gray Rock,” Fox whispered miserably. “She never forgot that I needed to hear a kind voice on occasion.”
Raven Hunter sat silently, listening. She appreciated that, knowing she’d pay later when he crawled into her robes. Someone had begun to sob uncontrollably inside the shelter. Numbly, Dancing Fox stood. In a moment, Raven Hunter, too, got to his feet.
“I suppose you’ll come by to force me again tonight?”
He shrugged. “You have no one to speak for you. I don’t hurt you. With Gray Rock gone, who else but me will speak
kindly to you? Besides, I leave you enough to get by. You eat better in disgrace than Crow Caller’s pets in fine social standing.”
“I hate you, you know.” She walked away.
“I’m not your enemy, Dancing Fox.”
“Then what are you? My keeper? Why didn’t you let me just go? Why drag me back here?”
He walked slowly, snow crunching under the soft layers of his long-booted feet. “Because I love you. I won’t have you dying in the snow.”
Anger swept her. “You don’t love me!” She spat into the snow to emphasize her point. “I’m nothing more than amusement for you. And I can’t do a maggot-cursed thing about it.”
Her skin prickled at the sudden, crazed look in his eyes. He smiled sweetly. “But this way you’re mine alone.”
She took a step backward. “Yes, you’ve seen to that. You’ve tied me as firmly as if you’d bound me with a mammoth-gut thong like some prize bear dog.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder, ignoring her flinch as he turned her to face him. In tones cutting as obsidian he remarked, “I’ll tell you once again, I love you. One day, you’ll understand.”
“Take your hands off me.”
He tightened the grip on her shoulder. “And I need you. I’m the hope of the People. I’ve seen it, you understand? I just … just can’t see it all. But I have to keep the Others back or they’ll bury the People.”
“Your delusions will be the death of us all.”
He sighed heavily, shoulders dropping. Head down, he added, “You can hate me all you want. I have to save the People. Just me … and a strange man. Face-to-face, he gives me something. Something that changes the People.” He stretched out his arms. “I don’t know what. Only that my son—”
She started, eyes widening. “Is that why you want me? For a son?”
“I don’t know for cer—”
Her move caught him off guard, her ringing slap staggering him. He fingered his cheek. A slow smile crossed his lips in the subtle glow of the night. “The vision is incomplete, but
I’ve already seen some of the flashes come true. Like finding you in the snow that day. I’m betting my very life and the lives of our people, that the rest will come and I’ll meet this strange man. He’s like … like …”
“I’ve heard enough,” she spat. “You’re crazy!” She turned as Crow Caller led the way from the shelter, the others in his wake, singing as they carried the remains of Gray Rock to the top of the drift, singing her soul to the Blessed Star People.
He gripped her arm, eyes burning into hers in the darkness. “Remember,” he said. “Even if I have to sacrifice both of us, I’ll save the People.”
He shoved her arm back at her, leaving her off balance and reeling as he went to sing for Gray Rock’s soul.
Dancing Fox pulled her hair back where it tumbled from under her hood and forced a deep breath into her lungs. Teeth gritted, she walked wearily to her worn sleeping skins, finding several long strips of dehydrated meat stuffed in her pack. Mouth watering, despite the guilt, she attacked them, ignoring the rancid taste.
That night, Raven Hunter didn’t come to her.