Branches of dwarf birch and willow twined through the mist of the hot springs, stretching into the turquoise sky. The yellowish green crust on the boulders at the edge of the pool sparkled in the golden sunlight.
Wolf Dreamer shook aside the sweat-dampened ends of his long hair where they clung in curls to his forehead; his oval face glistened with sweat. He watched as Broken Branch used a hand-sized stone and flat rock to pound the dried corpses of ground squirrels into paste. She mixed the flesh with mashed berries, then slid handfuls into caribou intestine. After each handful, she poured hot fat into the ropy sack. Broken Branch rammed home the whole lumpy mass with a stick until the gut bulged.
He stood uncomfortably, thinking. They’d hunted, Dreamed the caribou in again. And this time, he thought he’d heard a single breath of the One voice they shared. But had he? Or had he simply imagined it? Heron’s steps crunched over gravel behind him and he turned, smiling at her.
“Come,” she said, heading for her shelter.
He followed, eyes losing focus in the narrow darkness. She threw a finely tanned hide at him, which he caught before it touched the ground.
“The flies are gone. The frost has sent them to hiding. How many days since you’ve eaten?”
“Three.”
“Go high. At least a day from here. Remember the Dance. Dream.”
He took the robe and turned, pausing to look back. “I called them all the way this time, didn’t I?”
She studied him, thoughtful. “I did nothing. You called; they came. We killed enough for winter. We’ll have fat for the cold times. Meat for strength.”
“I thought …” He hesitated, afraid to mention it lest it be a false perception.
“What?”
“For a moment, I thought I heard a breath of the One.”
“What did it sound like?”
“It didn’t have a sound … really.”
A wry smile lit her face. “Then maybe you did hear it. Is there a ‘voice’ we share with the animals that goes deeper than the world we think we hear around us?” A veiled look in her eye, she waved him away. “Go Dream. Listen for it.”
Uneasy, he walked into the light, turning his steps west toward the ice-shrouded mountains. She always did that, left him wondering what was real … what was imaginary. Had they come to his call? Was there really only One voice for the One Life? Or had it been accident that they’d walked into his trap? What was real?
This year, the shelters looked shabby, worn, poorly repaired. Dancing Fox led the way down the slope slowly, aware that Talon hobbled painfully behind. The old woman wasn’t as strong as she’d been before. Since the starving days when they’d left Buffalo Back’s camp, some part of Talon’s soul had been diminished. She hobbled along, little more than an ancient wraith in hide rags.
Before them, the camp stretched, nestled on the edge of the marshy flats, muskeg spreading out into the northern horizon in a green haze. The flies and mosquitoes would be miserable here this year. To the east, the Big River raced in a torrential flood, overfilling its banks to drown portions of muskeg. To the south, behind the camp, the rumpled gray hills rose to obscure the horizon until they merged with the mandibular teeth of the glacier-patched western mountains.
From the smattering of shelters on the terrace overlooking the muskeg, winding spirals of blue smoke rose toward the
sky. The odors of cooking meat, wet dog, and camp trash already carried on the air. A rack of fish had been placed beside a shelter to dry; a young boy with a stick guarded it from the dogs. People sat around smoldering fires, hiding in the smudge while they talked and gestured.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” Talon called, voice thin and wavery. “Go. Go find your Runs In Light. I’ll be along.”
With a fleeting smile, Dancing Fox began to break into a run—and stopped short, a cold chill in her heart.
“Why did you stop?”
“Crow Caller. He’ll be there. So will all the others who survived. The story of his casting me out will have gone around. No, Grandmother, I want you to walk in with me.”
Talon studied her from the corner of her eye. “Not ready to go it alone, eh?”
Dancing Fox fought a flush of embarrassment. “I … Maybe. Still, no matter what I think, I owe it to you. We go together. It would be … more proper.”
Why do I lie?
The dogs saw them first, running out yapping, growling, snarling, their hair stiff and menacing. Dancing Fox slapped them away with her darts. Children followed on the heels of the dogs, calling “Who comes? Who comes?”
“This is Talon,” she called. “I’m Dancing Fox.”
An older boy, evidently the leader, stopped short, kicking one of the big dogs out of the way, a deep frown on his forehead. He was tall and thin, his face long and eyes small. “Are you the wife Crow Caller cursed?”
Dancing Fox stiffened. “I am.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You supposed to be around a Renewal? Your soul won’t do anything? Cause sickness or the Others to find us?”
Talon brushed past her shoulder. “Who are you, young brat? Did no one teach you manners?” She charged him on her thin sticks of legs, the youth’s eyes going wide as he scrambled back.
“I’m sorry!” he bawled. “Forgive, Grandmother. I didn’t mean you. I was only … only—”
“Only acting like an animal!” Talon spat. “Oh, your parents will hear! I promise that. And so will the leader. This may have been a bad year, but that’s no excuse for sniveling
brats like you to lose your manners and act like maggots in the body of the People!”
The youth turned on his heel—eyes downcast in shame—and ran. The rest of his group stared wide-eyed and broke after a heartbeat, pounding away after him.
“Looks like my fame has spread far and wide.” Dancing Fox sighed. “This may not be pleasant.”
Talon turned to face her. “You knew that before we came here. But don’t be so worried. After Crow Caller killed so many, people will think twice about his curse.”
“We’ll see.”
They plodded forward, weaving through the array of hide lodges, seeing hundreds of new faces.
“Look over there,” Talon said, pointing. “Isn’t that One Who Cries and Singing Wolf?”
Fox held her breath, searching the faces of the people near the two men, searching for Runs In Light. “I don’t see …”
“I don’t see him either. But the fact that two of his cousins are here means he led them safely. They didn’t die.”
Pride welled in her chest, a broad smile lighting her face. “Yes, it does.”
Talon clucked her lips, muttering incoherently under her breath. “Well, let’s go find your hero. Maybe he’ll let us move right into his lodge, eh? You figure he needs an old woman to sew for him? Cook? Maybe tell your brat kids the old stories?”
Dancing Fox grinned, patting the old woman’s shoulder. “After Seagull’s death, I’m sure he’d be grateful.”
At One Who Cries’ shelter, she called out politely. Green Water ducked through, waving at the horde of flies, a slow smile coming to her face. “Dancing Fox!”
“Green Water! You lived. The Wolf Dream … it was true.”
Green Water’s warm hug enfolded her first, Talon next. She stepped back, looking Fox up and down, her broad face beaming. “Yes, the Dream kept us alive. As to the hole in the Big Ice, who knows? But we found a haven from the Others.”
Dancing Fox’s eyes cast around hopefully. “And Runs In Light?”
“He’s not here.”
“Not …” Her heart stopped.
In her calm way, Green Water took her hand and motioned for them to enter the low tent. “He’s stayed at old Heron’s to learn to become a great Dreamer.”
“Heron!” Talon gasped.
Green Water nodded. “Yes, she’s more than a legend.” As she sat down on thick robes, Dancing Fox looked her confusion at Talon, seeing reservation in the old woman’s eyes, some veiled secret. “Why would he stay with her? He’s already a great Dreamer.”
Green Water leaned forward, earnest eyes on hers. “He wants to be as great as Heron. Better even, maybe.”
Talon slapped gnarled age-spotted hands on her knees. Her eyes met Fox’s, challenging. “If that’s the case, girl, he’ll never have time for you.”
“I don’t—”
“Dreaming!” Talon hissed to herself, eyes focused someplace beyond the shelter. “Real Dreaming! The People need a Dreamer. Been so long since we had one. And now … who’d think it would be Runs In Light?”
“But I don’t—”
Talon started, attention returning to the present. “No, of course you don’t! Girl, if he’s going to be a Dreamer, he’s become a man possessed. Oh, he’ll know you, and if he really cares for you, he might even be swayed from his Dreams. But know this, Fox. Even if you win him back for a while, draw him away, he’ll never be all yours. Never.”
A cold hand tightened on the bottom of her heart. “Why not?”
“Because the visions cage a Dreamer’s soul and never let it go.”