Dancing Fox and Talon sat together at the base of a tall basalt ridge. Broken rock spattered the slopes. Grass filled in the spaces between the tumbled boulders, weaving an irregular green and black patchwork. An eagle circled curiously through the cloudy sky over their heads, diving low on occasion to keep an eye on them.
“It’s not very good.” Dancing Fox held up the point she’d been working on, flake scars catching the light. The basalt outcrop contained a gritty rock that flaked poorly, unlike the colorful cherts and fine-grained quartzite tool stone One Who Cries cherished.
“So be it. It’ll work. The point’s the thing, Fox. Got to have that tip sharp so it cuts in. Now, the next thing is the binding. I remember what that worthless man of mine always said. ‘Get the hafting too thick, and it hangs up, slows the dart.’ Well, at least the old maggot bait could make good darts. But keep in mind, girl, when you haft it, too little binding and the point turns on impact instead of penetrating.”
Dancing Fox frowned, sucking at the red slip of skin on her hand where she’d cut herself. It was the bane of all flint knapping; she’d driven a flake deep into the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. About her feet lay a litter of stone chips—including more than one of the long, thin points that she’d cracked during manufacture, striking too deeply into the stone. She lifted the point again and grinned.
“Now,” Talon added softly, “you must breathe spirit into the point. That’s the key—making it live so it knows it’s supposed to drive deeply into the side of the animal, to seek its life. Use all your soul, girl. Sing!”
Dancing Fox nodded, slowly chanting, feeling the Power of her soul as it washed over the dart tip. She clutched the point in her bloody hand, willing herself into the black rock. A warm feeling filled her.
“Now do the binding and the shaft,” Talon explained. “You have to get your Power into the whole thing. The point
is only part of the whole. Without a strong straight shaft, the point can’t kill. Without the point, the shaft is harmless. The binding makes them one. Then you have to run the grooves along the base and tie the feathers on. That’s important … keeps the dart flying straight and stable in the air.”
“I never realized how much went into this.”
Talon rubbed her fleshy nose. “Think of it like a man and woman. The binding is the marriage to make a whole out of the system. It joins the spheres of Power. Taps the spirits of the rock, the wood, the animal, and the bird. A union, that’s Power. Male and female, understand?”
Dancing Fox stared sightlessly at the point. “Like I would be with Runs In Light,” she whispered.
“Still can’t get him out of your head, huh?”
Dancing Fox pulled long strands of gleaming black hair back from her face, looking longingly to the south. “No, Grandmother, I can’t. He fills my dreams, making my nights lonely and empty. I hear his voice, feel his arms.”
“Well, it won’t be long until Renewal. We’ll find him there.”
Fox sighed heavily. “I hope so.”
“You’d give up your freedom for him? After all this work you’ve done to learn how to survive on your own?”
Dancing Fox lifted her slim muscular shoulders. “I’d rather survive with him helping me. Is that bad?”
Talon considered, tongue prodding the gaps in her teeth, eyes scanning the darkening sky. A few stars poked through the slate blanket overhead. “To be honest, child, I don’t know. Without children, there’s no People. But once you’ve got a baby, you can’t hunt like we’ve been doing. Men are free. They don’t have to stay around and look after their brood. Women do.”
“Won’t you take care of my child for me while I go out to hunt?”
Talon smiled. “Of course I will. But I won’t be around forever.”
Dancing Fox nodded thoughtfully. “Well, even without help, there’s hunting I can do with a baby. I can still run animals off a cliff like we did that buffalo. Or use a pit trap, like you showed me for the caribou. I can smoke out ground
squirrels, club mice, rob eggs out of nests, and snare hares. I don’t have to stalk the way a man does.”
“And where’s the baby going to be while you’re doing this?”
“For small game, I can carry her on my back. For big game I might have to find a safe place away from the jump or surround, then come back and get her later.”
“You can do it, that’s true.” She squinted hard, rearranging all the lines in her ancient face as she studied Dancing Fox. “But consider this. If you go out and get killed by a wounded buffalo while you’re hunting alone, then what? You see, that’s the real difference. If a man dies, his child is home safe, but if you die when your baby’s with you, well …”
“So I’m stuck with having other people to care for my children while I hunt.” She shook her head.
“Or you don’t have children.” Talon leaned forward, bending over her knees. “And then where would the People be?”
“All I want is to love Runs In Light, to be with him. Why do I have to give up my freedom?”
“Because Father Sun made men one way and women another. You tell me, what if Runs In Light walked over the hill just now? What then, huh? How long until you were under the robes with him?”
Dancing Fox lowered her eyes.
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. That’s the trouble, girl. Everything alive has a drive for coupling. It’s deep, keeps us going. Man’s worse than woman. Always got to stick his spear into you. But a woman—a young woman in love—that’s just as bad. And that’s how Father Sun made us.”
“And it takes away freedom?”
“Can’t help but take it away.” Talon shrugged. “Thank goodness, though, that Father Sun was smart enough to give the burden of babies to us. Hard to say what would happen if he’d given those fool men the responsibility. People would have died off of stupidity clear back when Father Sun blew life into us after we fell from the stars.”
Dancing Fox ran a finger absently along the dart tip. Could I stand to be near him? Could I stand to see him every day without holding him close? Could I give up Runs In Light to live in exile out here by myself? She swallowed hard, looking
up to the sun. The time for Renewal grew closer. A slow ache built under her heart.
“For him,” she whispered, “I could give this up.”
Talon nodded, exhaling heavily. “I think maybe you’re being foolish … but I understand.”
A summer like none he could have imagined. Blue Sky Man glowed above, his ponderous belly only hidden by occasional clouds. The flies, mosquitoes, and gnats rolled across the green land in droves. Sprigs of willow and dwarf birch rose from the rocks, lining the yellow-caked sides of the stream. Broken Branch smiled in the sun, eagerly attacking the moss and plants with her digging stick, creating feast after feast for dinner. Blossoms, sweet and delicate, scented the slow breezes in a rich promise of bear berries. Sour dock and wild rhubarb greened above the verdant blaze of willow and alder.
Overhead, flights of snow geese, ducks, and chattering ravens passed in a whir of wings. Curlew called lonely from the ponds to the east. Eagles twisted and turned, spiraling against the endless blue.
Wolf Dreamer floated in the spring, blessing the stink of the geyser that kept the columns of bloodsucking black flies and mosquitoes at bay. The day before, he had marched to the big river with Heron. The tumult of the water had shaken him to his bones. Such Power, such violence, the very ground reverberated from the tormented sandy flood.
“Never seen it this high,” she muttered, looking across” the rush. “Never.”
“Where does it all come from?”
She turned, features stony. “Your Big Ice, Wolf Dreamer.” So much? Only the salt water was so large—and almost tame compared to the river thrashing its way to the north.
He settled back, letting the warm water support him, and cleared his mind. Peace filled him. The battle had almost been won. Time after time, he’d forced himself, each attempt bringing longer and longer spans of silence. Heron had been patient.
“Not even a child learns to walk in a day,” she’d reminded.
The feeling of water lapping at his sides, slapping in his
ears, soothed him. The voice of the water, he’d discovered, resembled human speech. Lulls punctuated the noise, lulls of pure silence.
By some sense, he felt her presence, raising his head to watch her disrobe. Even in her old age, Heron’s beauty remained. Her breasts, though sagged with age, still held an allure as did her flat stomach, unspoiled by children. Firm legs and arms bespoke the graceful essence of woman.
And Dancing Fox? Would she have that look at Heron’s age? He tried to picture her, the image of her bursting youth forming in his mind. She walked in his imagination, hips swinging, eyes sparkling promise as she made for him. His manhood hardened.
Her hair would shine blue black in the sun, tumbling down over her smooth shoulders. She dove seallike into the pool, water rippling from her brown back. Beside him, she came up, breasts bobbing. Her touch would be light on his skin as she reached for him. He would turn, stroke her, holding her close as her legs went around him. He could feel her as she opened herself, ready to …
“You have something in your mind?” Heron asked, popping the image, causing him to start. Water rushed into his nose, leaving him coughing and sneezing as he struggled to get his feet under him.
A wicked light gleamed in her eye. She looked at his hard maleness, protruding from the water. “Not this old woman. Too old … even for a handsome boy like you.”
He gasped, rolling in the water to hide himself, shame running hot in his veins.
She laughed, diving under the water, forcing him to turn again to hide himself.
Her old eyes twinkled as her head broke the surface. He huddled there, chin barely above water. “I’m still a man,” he challenged, anger covering embarrassment. “Dreaming doesn’t take that away from you.”
She wiped her face of the crystal beads of water and chuckled dryly. “Oh, you’re a man all right. Seems they think of only one thing.” Then: “But excuse an old woman. People coupling, that’s part of the Dance.”
He swirled the water with his hands, hoping the shimmering
ripples obscured what the water revealed. Desire drained; he felt better.
“It wasn’t you I was thinking of.”
She moved to sit on a rock, the water lapping about her waist. “Ah, a young woman?” She looked out over the willows, partially shaded now by the stark white font of geyser steam. “Is she waiting for you?”
“She’s not … Crow Caller took her as a wife.” He splashed frustration. “She ate of the wolf, accepted the Dream … but she followed him. A wife doesn’t …”
“Run off with another man,” she finished. “But she could have.”
“It would have brought dishonor. She would never—”
“More likely she fears Crow Caller. Fears what he would do to her.” She wrung water from her hair, appraising his defiant glare. “What’s this I see in your eyes? A bad case of young love?”
“Don’t,” he warned. The pain of losing Dancing Fox seared his chest.
She nodded, giving in. “I won’t torment you about her. Her love is your burden.”
“Burden?” he gasped incredulously. “More like solace.”
“I think you’ll see it differently in the near future.”
“Didn’t you ever long for a man? Didn’t you love your Bear Hunter?” He regretted the words as he spoke them.
She watched him, impassive for several moments. “Yes, I did. Would have given anything for him. Thought about killing Broken Branch when she weaseled her way into his robes.”
“Why didn’t you go back? As … pretty as you are, any man would have come here with you.”
She shook her head, sighing. “No, no man.” Looking to the sky, she worked her lips. “Wolf Dreamer, you must know this. Dreaming—real Dreaming—doesn’t leave room for a mate. When a man and woman are together, they take a part of each other. His or her problems become yours. Coupling produces children. No way around it. Children demand all your attention—and they deserve it. So much work goes into turning an infant from an animal into a human being. Children have no sense of time, they need attention now. You
can’t Dream when your child is hungry, or has a question, or gets cut on a chert flake.”
“That’s why you’re still here after all these years?”
“That’s why. No man, no temptation. Just me and my thoughts and Dreams. I made that decision when Bear Hunter went to Broken Branch.” She smiled wearily. “And I was young then, hurt. I didn’t want to have to see him … and her.”
“And now she’s here.”
Heron tilted her head. “It’s been a long time. He’s many Long Darks dead. Both Broken Branch and I have changed. And she’s brought me a different man. One more important than a lover could ever have been.
“Oh, I could wonder about what-if’s, but if you look hard enough, there’s a purpose, a reason why everything happens. Maybe you were calling me … even then.”
He frowned, moving up to sit beside her. “You’re sure it was me in your Dream?”
Her eyes left no mistake.
“But why would you Dream of me?”
She drew a full breath. “You’re important to the People somehow. Maybe we’ll all die if you don’t find that hole in the ice.”
A tremor of anxiety touched him. He fumbled with the gritty surface of a rock. “What should I do about Dancing Fox? She fills my thoughts more every day. I can’t concentra—”
“Your choice, Wolf Dreamer.” The brown orbs of her eyes revealed nothing. “These gifts of yours, they’re powerful. I see you changing. The man you were, the one she knew, doesn’t exist anymore. Worse, you’re growing so quickly into someone different, she’ll hardly know you when she meets you again. Will she understand? More importantly, will you want to go back to what you were before the Dreaming?”
“You tell me. You’ve walked this path.”
“I have no answers for you, but I can tell you the Dreaming is like eating a spirit plant. Once started, you can’t get enough. It fills you, drives you, guides you.”
“Constantly? Isn’t there time for—”
“Constantly.”
He frowned, watching steam twirl over his head. “That’s a heavy price to—”
“A terrible price.”
He propped his chin on one knee, staring unblinking into her serious eyes. Wet strands of silver-shot hair draped over her breasts. A grim smile curled her lips. “Is the salvation of the People worth it?”