The People rested and ate and rested through another stretch of darkness, reviving. When the storm finally abated, Heron led them off in the new snow, webbed snowshoes crunching while she followed Black, who drove his nose deep into the powder, sniffing for the trail.
By sunset, Green Water stood at the top of the ridge, staring in awe at Heron’s shelter; it was a marvel. For a brief moment, Wind Woman stilled her constant howl to provide a glimpse of the little valley. White water bubbled from the ground through a rent in the rocks, cascading down to a deep aquamarine pool. Beyond, the water ran open and foggy as far as the eye could see. Tall stands of willow lay buried deep under the snow; nearby, depressions lined by living grass could be seen. Below them, the snow had melted away.
“How long have you been here?” she called timidly to the Spirit Woman.
“Awhile,” Heron shouted from the front of the procession. “Now, to me, it looks like the ground broke here and all this hot water come up. A couple of years back … let’s see. Well, maybe twenty or so, the ground shook. Scared me to death. Till then, that hot spring just dribbled. Afterward, it started shooting water up way high. Like something broke loose down there in the rock. Scares me what might happen if the ground breaks again. Don’t get near that geyser. It’ll cook you. I mean it. I boil meat in that.”
Green Water shook her head. There’d been stories. Old Geyser—dead now—had talked of such things. Had he been here? Slowly, trying to take it all in, Green Water followed them down toward the smoking waters. Unsure, she remembered the stories told around the fires. Stories of how Heron had left the People. Stories of how she bartered with the spirits of the Long Dark. Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder, staring out into the white wastes. Well, perhaps there were worse fates.
When they reached the edge of the steaming pool, Heron disappeared into a crack in the rocks and returned with a pile
of caribou hides. “Here,” she said, dropping them on the snowy ground. “I got more inside that you can use to make a shelter. While you do that, I’ll put on some moss tea and get out some meat for dinner.”
A tremor of relief went through the People. Hurriedly, they joined hands to make hasty lodges. Hours later, Heron returned and surveyed the shelters approvingly.
“Come and sit down now,” the old woman instructed. “We’ve got things to talk about.”
Gratefully the People gathered around the edges of the deep pool to drench in the warm mist. Heron had built a fire in front of her rock shelter and the flames licked upward, casting long shadows over the surrounding boulders and flickering amber across the greenish pool. She passed out sacks of meat and told people to help themselves to the bags of hot moss tea.
When everyone had settled down to eat contentedly, the Spirit Woman declared, “I can feed you all for a couple of weeks on what I’ve stored. But after that …”
Singing Wolf nodded, cupping a horn full of thick black tea. “How much game is here?”
Heron lifted a thin shoulder. “Enough. A small herd of caribou winters out in the basin down by the river. The wind sweeps it clean. They can get willow there, dig for moss and grass. Seems like every year more grass grows. Lot of changes since I came here … let’s see … Well, no matter—back when Broken Branch there was still young enough to steal my man.”
Broken Branch stiffened, stopping in midchew to narrow her eyes.
“As far as hunting goes,” One Who Cries said, clearing his throat, “we can build a drive line. Green Water and Sunshine can work the wings, the extension of the lines, with the children between cairns to keep the animals moving. With Singing Wolf, Jumping Hare, and me, there are three men to run down the—”
“Four,” Heron added, jerking her head toward Runs In Light, who sat silent, head down.
People grumbled among themselves. Now that their bellies were full, they’d started complaining again, calling Runs In Light a false Dreamer.
Heron lifted a brow, spitting, “You fools. He’s seen more than you’ll ever understand.”
An awkward silence descended, the flames lighting tense faces.
“Grandmother.” Runs In Light spoke. “Don’t worry. I—”
“Hush, boy. You and I aren’t done yet.” She turned and looked at him, heedless of his embarrassment. “Don’t know what you are yet, eh? Keep that attitude and you might never know.”
“Wolf Dream,” Broken Branch muttered, her eyes bright again.
Heron turned, head cocked. “You saw it?”
“It was in his eyes.”
Heron nodded. “Much has changed since I’ve been gone? No Dreamers?”
Broken Branch waved miserably. “Crow Caller had it once. I think he killed it. Dreamed sour … like maggot-filled meat. These young ones, they’ve never seen a real Dreamer before. You need to come back, Heron. The People need you. There’s no heart. No fire. The old ways, the true ways, they’ve gone like smoke in Wind Woman’s breath.”
Heron turned, pointing. “He’s the future.”
Wolf Dreamer shook his head in the silence. Ashen, he got to his feet and vanished into the night beyond.
After the long pause, Broken Branch shook her head. “I don’t know. His spirit left him.” She sighed: “It’s no longer in his eyes.”
“You’re wrong.” Heron grinned. “As usual.”
Singing Wolf cleared his throat. “He’s young. Like his brother, Raven Hunter, said, he’s susceptible to delusions.”
“Raven Hunter?” Heron whirled, a thin finger jabbing at Singing Wolf like a dart. “You’d listen to him?” Her eyes narrowed wickedly. “What’s happened to you? Has that maggot-mouthed Crow Caller broken all of your Dreaming? Curse you all. There is no life without Dreaming!”
Singing Wolf’s chin stuck out as he mumbled, “Runs In Light nearly Dreamed us to death.”
“Idiots.” Heron shook her head. “Do you think you’re all just eating machines? Huh? That your only purpose here is to eat and make babies to do it all over again after you’re
gone? Curse you! No wonder the People are dying! You have to Dream to LIVE!”
“Yes!” Broken Branch cried, clasping her hands together. “See?” She pointed at Heron. “There’s Power! There’s a Dreamer! Hear how she speaks? Hear the Power? Ha-heeee! Wolf brought us here. Wolf Dream!”
“What of the boy, Wolf Dreamer?” Heron crossed her arms, eyes on Singing Wolf where he looked away, shame creeping up his face.
“He’s feeling guilty.” Broken Branch waved it away. “We lost one little girl, though the rest of us are here.”
Heron fingered her chin. “Did Crow Caller tell you Dreams came easy? Did he?”
No one ventured an answer, but their crimped faces told her what she wanted to know. “Well, they don’t. Dreams don’t come without pain … yes, and even death. Remember that.”
She shook herself, gray-shot hair spilling loose about her shoulders. “You, Singing Wolf?”
He looked at her with wary indignation in his eyes. “What?”
“You think you’re a hunter?”
“I’m the best—”
“No, you’re not. I’m going to take you on a real hunt. A Dream Hunt. I’ll call the caribou. I know the place. A drive line is already there. They hear me and listen. They’ll help the People if I ask.”
Singing Wolf glanced around uncomfortably. “You mean we’re not going to go stalk them? To drive—”
“No. I’m going to go Dream them in. Don’t disturb me.” She turned and walked out into the growing darkness, following Wolf Dreamer’s path.
Singing Wolf chewed his lip, confusion on his face. He raised his eyes to Broken Branch as she waddled past, heading out into the dark.
She stopped to scowl at him. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut?”
He dropped his eyes.
Runs In Light heard the soft tread. He bit back the frustration. “I’m not the one.”
“No?” Heron’s voice carried a subtle power.
“No.”
A hand rested on his shoulder. “Tell me again of what you saw.”
“I … I passed through a hole in the ice with Wolf. We climbed rocks. There on the other side, a green valley opened as far as the eye could see. Caribou, elk, moose, mammoth, all kinds of animals were there. Then I had the Dream with the man. The Other you call my father.”
“I knew you’d be a powerful Dreamer the first hour of your life.”
He shook his head, doubt twisting his gut. “I’m no Dreamer.”
The edge of hostility in her voice caught him by surprise. “You won’t be if you keep that up. I guarantee that,” she spat over her shoulder.
Runs In Light sighed with relief as her steps receded. After a few moments of silence, Broken Branch’s voice came from the darkness to his side. “What did she tell you?”
He blinked to make out her dark silhouette. “That I’m a Dreamer.”
“Hardly news.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand all this. That, and the man in my Dream.”
“Man?”
He nodded. “Heron says Seal Paw wasn’t my father.”
“What else does she say?”
He heard the stiffness in her voice, felt the growing tension. He bit his lip. Tell her?
“That my mother was raped. That I was born first and lay in a shaft of light. That Raven Hunter was born next. That he came out covered with blood. That it ran into his mouth as he was placed beside me. That a raven feather floated down and he grasped it.”
“Hah-heeee,” she gasped, placing a hand to her mouth. “Yes. Yes, I was there. I bit your cord in two myself. Where … where did your mother …” “On the beach, beside the salt water. Heron says she was collecting mussels.”
Broken Branch slowly settled on a rock, eyes focused on the moon rising over the western horizon; it gilded the drifting
clouds with silver. “Yes, I heard the rumors.” She looked up. “A Dreaming. And she saw you?”
Runs In Light nodded heavily. “Says I looked into her eyes.”
“Hah-heeee, I knew it. Wolf Dreamer. Even then you were … different.”
He got up and paced angrily. “I don’t want to be different! I want to be a hunter! That’s all!”
“What else did she tell you? About the People?”
“That we would be killed by the Others … or taken in among them. Soaked up like blood in fox fur.”
Broken Branch covered her head. “You would turn from your people?”
“I’m not the one!” He struggled to keep his voice down. “I went the wrong way! Crow Caller was right.”
“We’re not dead yet,” Broken Branch mumbled to herself. She looked up. “If not you … then who?”
He looked up at the geyser, hearing its roar, seeing the water flying high, sparkling white in the moonlight. “I don’t know!” he shouted plaintively, squeezing his head between his hands. “I don’t—”
“There’s no one else.”
“How do you know?”
“Who could it be?”
“I don’t know! If the Other in my Dreams is my father, then maybe this Dreaming is in our blood!”
“What does that—”
“Maybe the savior is Raven Hunter!”
Broken Branch sat deathly still, eyes squinted in thought.