As darkness fell, the brilliant lights of the Monster Children’s War stained the sky, bands of orange, red, blue, and green undulating across the heavens. The People stopped to set up camp. Babies wailed their hunger, dogs yapping as men and women dropped their packs and went about gathering wood for supper fires.
“Where’s Talon?” Dancing Fox asked, looking around.
Singing Wolf straightened, his keen eyes cataloging faces. “I don’t see her. I guess I’d better go back and look. Maybe she stopped.”
“I’ll go.” Dancing Fox stared uneasily at the falling dark.
“Alone? There might be—”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled slyly at him. “I lived out there alone, for several turnings of Moon Woman. I’ll be fine. Besides, Talon’s my responsibility. You keep camp in order, I’ll find her.”
He looked uncertain, but nodded.
Dancing Fox took her darts, walking swiftly back down the trail they’d made, scuff marks of the People’s long boots marking the way where the snow had drifted in the lee of the rocks.
How long since she’d seen her? An hour? Maybe two? She’d become involved in a conversation with Green Water, talking about the Others.
Shadows stretched as the evening darkened. An owl hooted out in the rocks. Three crows passed overhead, their wings rasping on the air while they clucked and cooed to each other. Stillness settled on the land, dropping with the mantle of night.
“Talon?” Her voice carried like a bleat in the evening.
She picked up her feet to trot, eyes searching the trail as she wound around glacial cobbles.
“Talon?”
“Here, girl,” it came as a faint echo on the wavering breezes.
Weaving through a jagged scatter of boulders, she found her.
Talon rested on a smooth granite slab. Behind her, boulders had been piled by the retreating glacier to form a shelter from the wind. Silt and sand had blown in to stop the gaps in the gray rock. A few tendrils of exploring wormwood hung from the precarious dirt. Overhead, the sky darkened, scattered clouds drifting down from the north.
Talon looked up, meeting her eyes. She worked her wrinkled lips over toothless gums and shook her head wryly before smiling. A twinkle reflected from the ancient eyes as she braced herself.
“Found me, eh?”
“You get lost, or stop to—”
“Can’t go on, girl.”
Fox bent over the old woman where she sat, hands clutching up one bony knee. “What?”
“It’s just that time, is all,” Talon said easily, head cocked to look up at Fox. “I’ve been holding the rest back, always the last in line. I think I’ll just find a nice spot and sit.”
“No, Talon. We’re making camp. You can—”
“No.” A delicate hand reached up to pat her as understanding dawned and Fox’s eyes widened. “Now, child, don’t start that. I’ve been around long enough to know how these things work. I can feel death close. My soul’s itching to go.” She waved toward the few gleaming stars poking through the rainbow blanket flooding the sky.
A hollow expanse spread in Fox’s stomach; she whispered, “What will I do without you?”
Talon laughed. “Oh, you’ll get along, child. I’m proud of you. You’ve got spirit like women in the old days. Ah, that day you grabbed Mouse by the throat made my heart warm. And then do you remember that dart cast you made before Renewal? Knocked that snow goose right out of the air! Lot of men can’t make the beat of that!”
“Come on, you’ve rested now. Let’s go. The People aren’t camped more than a dart’s throw over that hill up there. I should have kept better watch. If I would have—”
“Would have nothing,” Talon grunted. “Took me two days of hobbling on these worn-out legs to finally get a chance to
sneak away. And Green Water was enjoying talking to you. Good woman, that Green Water.”
“But you can’t—”
“Of course I can.” She pushed Dancing Fox away. “It’s a matter of responsibility. Look at me. I can’t work hides. I fall asleep when I’m supposed to be caring for the children while the women are out hunting, trapping, and picking plants. Besides, I know I’m going to die this Long Dark.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. And Fox, knowing that, what’s better for the People? Should I sit around and eat up the meat stores, take food out of a baby’s mouth? No, you never can tell about Long Darks. Food’s critical.”
“What if I want you to have mine?”
Talon grinned tenderly. “You’re a good girl, but I wouldn’t eat it.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve drained myself dry, Fox, teaching stories and what I know about hunting and gathering. That’s how it works among the People. We pass things on. You live like I showed you, and one of these years, you’ll teach someone. That’s what’s important.”
Dancing Fox shook her head. “I can’t see how you know you’re going to die.”
Talon laughed. “The young never can.”
“Camp’s just a little way up the trail. At least go that far. I’ll help you with—”
“No, child.” Talon shook her head. “Go on, leave me. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I know better. The best I can do, I’ve done. You go find your Dreamer, girl. Find your future.”
Dancing Fox closed her eyes, sinking down to hold the old woman’s skeletal hand. “I … I’ll stay. Keep you company. Make a shelter for—”
“Go,” Talon whispered gently. “I might hang on here for days. You’d be late in finding your Dreamer.”
“I’ll find him later. Let me—”
“Fox?”
“Hmmm?”
“About this Dreamer. You’ve never known a real Dreamer and I’m afraid—”
“I saw Runs In Light after the Wolf Dream. And I was married to Crow Caller.”
“It’s not the same.”
“What?” she asked with trepidation, seeing the old woman’s hesitation.
Talon sighed, lungs wheezing. “The old Dreamers, the real ones … Well, I’ve never seen one with a mate.”
“I don’t understand.”
Talon clucked her lips. “I figured you didn’t. I never said much about your Runs In Light and all, but, child, if he’s been with Heron you may not know him when you meet him.”
“That’s silly, of course I will. I’ve known him since I was—”
“That’s not what I mean.” Talon leaned her head back, old eyes scanning the stars. “Fox, Dreams change people. Something happens inside their heads. They lose interest in things of this world. In friends—especially lovers.”
“But a Dreamer’s just like anyone else. I mean, Crow Caller wasn’t any different than—”
“Bah!” Talon hissed. “Crow Caller? He’s no Dreamer. Oh, he had glimpses, once, years ago. Then the status got to his head, muddled it all up. That’s why he lost it, child.”
Dancing Fox squeezed the woman’s hand, steering the conversation back to Runs In Light. “What about Light, Grandmother?”
“Real Dreamers lose interest in everything but the Dream. Nobody knows why it happens, but it does. I remember hearing about lots of broken hearts when I was a girl.”
Fox breathed in the chill night air, filling her lungs. A weight lay heavy on her chest. “You mean he may not want me anymore?”
“That’s what I mean.”
Fox swallowed and let her eyes dart anxiously over the patches of snow glistening in the wavering lights of the Twins’ northern war. Stubbornly, she murmured, “He’ll be there, waiting, I know it.”
A white haze grew on the horizon as Moon Woman gathered herself to spring into the sky. “He didn’t come to the Renewal. You know why?”
“He couldn’t. He was busy.”
“If he’d really wanted to see you he’d’ve been there. He stayed with Heron because the Dream was more important.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, then? I could have prepared.”
“At the time, well, it didn’t make sense to lay another burden on you. Not with Raven Hunter making trouble. And … I thought I’d be there when you finally saw Light again and I could make the landing softer for you. I didn’t know I’d give out so quick.”
“I just can’t believe he’d … can’t.” She shook her head, hope and anticipation mixing with premonition. All those long months, the suffering, the loneliness. Only his promise of love had kept her going.
Talon swallowed, the sound loud in the night. “This is the girl who worked so hard to make herself independent? You’re stronger than this. Get your head back to earth. Only crows fly up there.” She pointed a gnarled finger at the crystal night sky. “You’re worth more than that.”
Fox’s heart throbbed as though it would burst. “He won’t have me and you’re leaving. I don’t want to be alone. I need—”
“You don’t need anybody, you’ve just been fooling yourself into believing that because it’s the way of the People. A woman’s supposed to depend on others.”
“People need each other.”
“Do they?”
“Of course.”
Talon pointed a thin bony finger. “There’s only one reason people are afraid to be alone. It’s because they fear themselves deep down, child. They’re scared to death there’s not enough in them to survive without help.”
“I don’t fear myself,” Fox insisted.
Talon smiled faintly, pride in her eyes. “Good. Because of all the women I’ve ever known, there’s only two I thought could make it on their own.”
“Who?”
“You and Heron.” Talon sighed weakly and gazed out across the moonlit jumbles of rock. “I didn’t know her so well. I was only ten when she left camp. But even then, I remember admiring her for going.”
“What if it’s not Heron who’s keeping Runs In Light
away?” Fox asked shakily, her mind seeking other possibilities.
“You mean what if you walk into his camp and find him with three wives?”
“Yes.”
“You going to throw yourself off a cliff?”
Fox bowed her head, blinking at a long-abandoned bird nest tucked in the rocks no more than a foot off the ground. The sticks were crusted with frost. A broken speckled shell nestled inside, gleaming in the night. “No.”
“Ah, it’s easier to think about him belonging to another woman, is it?”
“I can fight another woman. I can’t fight the whole spirit world.”
“No, you can’t. But he won’t be the first person you ever lose in your life. There’s worse things.”
“Like what?” she scoffed miserably.
Talon eyed her seriously. “Like the death of the People. If he’s sacrificing himself to the Dream, it’s for the People. You understand that? It’s not because he hates you.”
Dancing Fox stared at the dark figure of the old woman, heart in her throat. “I’ll learn to understand it.”
Talon’s voice warmed as she looked longingly up at the dim stars. “I know you will.”
Long minutes passed while they listened to the rasping of Wind Woman over the rocky plains and watched the flickering northern lights.
“You’re not coming back to camp … really?”
“No, I’m going to wait here and talk to the Star People.” Talon squinted upward a little fearfully.
“I’m staying with you. It’s not right that you die by yourself.”
Talon shooed her away. “Dying’s a private thing. I don’t want you here.”
A sob welled in Dancing Fox’s throat. She forcibly choked it back. “Are you sure?”
Talon scrutinized her tormented expression. “You really need to be close to me to the end?”
“I can’t stand the thought of you getting weak … and the wolves …”
“Well, I can’t much either. You going to keep them off?”
“If you’ll let me.”
“You think you can face it? It’ll mean that much longer before you find out what’s happened to Runs In Light.”
Dancing Fox’s eyes locked with the wrinkled old woman’s and some silent communication passed between them, tender and intimate. “I can face it.”
She lifted the broken shell from the nest, tender fingers caressing the sharp edges.