Wolf Dreamer stood on the cloud-capped ridge, watching the People wind toward him. Tender emotions of warmth caressed his breast. They’d returned, safe and sound. His eyes searched for old friends.
A gray curtain of snow slashed at the undulating plain, roaring up behind One Who Cries as he led his band around the twisted glacial rocks. Wind Woman battered at them, breath like a knife in the chill of oncoming evening.
Wavering voices came to him on the gale.
“Thought we wouldn’t make it!” Singing Wolf called, a smile on his lips as he pointed to the puffing billows of Heron’s geyser where the steam blew away in torn clouds. “Looked like the storm would get us first.”
“It’s Wolf Dreamer!” One Who Cries shouted back, lifting a hand to wave.
He waved back, a smile lighting his deeply tanned face. The band trudged up to meet him.
“Well,” Singing Wolf said, puffing out his cheeks. “We’re here. I can’t say how much I dreamed of this little valley in the last year.” He turned, smiling. “It’s good to see you, Wolf Dreamer.”
“And you, cousin,” he said, clapping the man gently on the shoulder. “Seeing you kindles a warmth in my breast. How was the Renewal?”
Singing Wolf exchanged a glance with One Who Cries before lowering his eyes to frown at the icy ground.
Wolf Dreamer tensed, gaze roving the People. So many new women. He studied them, sullen, bent under heavy burdens, eyes filled with hatred. The dogs were packed, even the puppies. So much baggage? For only a seasonal migration? He spied Mouse; she’d remarried to Three Falls. Her hair was cut short. Quickly he looked over the group. So many widows.
“What’s happened?”
One Who Cries said through a long exhale, “The People are in trouble.”
“What kind?”
“Raven Hunter raided the camps of the Others all summer.” Singing Wolf looked away. “I went with him, once. I saw things that sickened me.”
“Have they returned the attacks? Is that why so many of the women—”
“Yes, many times. All the clans are suffering. Our own young men are running off to defend their villages or avenge deaths even as we speak.”
An ache touched Wolf Dreamer’s stomach. He whispered, “During the Long Dark? That’s crazy. No one can survive.”
“Crow Caller,” One Who Cries said reluctantly, “is promising the warriors spirit protection from the Soul Eaters.”
His gut twisted at the name. He clenched his fists tightly to still the rising tide of emotion. “Don’t they know by now he’s a false Dreamer?”
Singing Wolf lightly kicked an ice-encrusted rock rooted to the ridge top. “Your brother has convinced most otherwise.”
“Blessed Star People!” He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the chill breath of Wind Woman flooding his face and flapping his hood. “Heron will know what to do. Come, let’s seek her counsel.”
“Are you sure she won’t mind us being around?” Singing Wolf moaned. “We don’t want her mad at us.”
“She sent me to find you. She won’t mind—at least not for a while.”
In relief, Singing Wolf and One Who Cries laughed and
nodded, heading up the trail. People straggled behind them, the Other women casting hard looks at him as they labored past. Green Water herded several small children.
She smiled as she climbed to stand beside him. “You’re looking well, Runs In … Wolf Dreamer.”
He returned her smile feebly, wanting desperately to ask about Dancing Fox, but frightened of the answer. “You too, Green Water,” he said lamely.
She laid a tender hand on his sleeve, a pained look in her soft brown eyes. “She’s not here.”
“She stayed with—”
“No. It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
“She followed you, ran away.”
“What …” The air went out of his lungs. She tried to come to me. “What stopped her?”
“Your brother found her before she escaped and dragged her back to Crow Caller.”
Hatred welled hotly. His brother … always trying to hurt him. “What happened then?”
“Crow Caller accused her of adultery and cast her out. Raven Hunter … took ‘care’ of her.” She tilted her head awkwardly, face downcast.
“Are you trying to tell me he …”
She lifted her eyes to probe his apologetically. “He kept her alive.”
No! His own brother had raped the woman he loved? He rubbed hands roughly over his face, hiding his shock and disgust. “Raven Hunter. Everything comes back to Raven Hunter.”
Green Water chewed her lip for a moment, looking at him from reserved, pool-like eyes. “She is coming.”
His gaze shot to the trail and he took a halting step forward. She caught his arm.
“It won’t be for a while.”
“Why? Where is she?”
“Talon befriended her after Crow Caller cursed her soul. Together they left the camps, lived for a while in exile. Now she comes here, fleeing Raven Hunter’s robes. Talon left the band to go off and die. Fox went looking for her and found
us the next morning, saying she would stay with her friend until the end.”
“The storms are coming!”
Green Water pulled him back by the sleeve as he started up the trail. “She’ll be fine. She’s … well, not the girl you once knew. The last year has hardened her, like a good dart shaft in fire. She’s fine out there. The girl you knew is gone … as is the young man she once smiled at.”
He swallowed, searching her honest face.
“Trust me. She’ll be here in her own time.”
“But she’s coming.”
His eyes fixed on the distant horizon where snow-heavy clouds twisted across the heavens and his heart pounded in anticipation, hope like a dull blade in his gut.
“She’s well,” Green Water comforted. “For an expelled woman. Just don’t expect her to—”
“I’ll punish him.” He knotted a fist inside his thick mittens. “I swear, I’ll pay him back.”
“Shhh!” She placed mittened fingers to his lips. “Don’t, Wolf Dreamer. Don’t say it aloud. Not now. We need someone strong and wise to lead us. The People are already shredded like a mouse skin in a weasel’s mouth.”
He stood stiffly, not breathing. People straggled by, figures black in the night, battered by Wind Woman’s merciless breath. So many? How would they feed them all? Diffidently, he forced himself to turn and blend with the flow of bodies. He had to talk to Heron.
As they rounded the corner, he could see Heron’s shelter and the People gathering in awe on the banks of the hot springs. Murmurs of amazement filtered through the crowd. He searched but didn’t see the old Dreamer. Curious. She usually greets people before they get this close.
Gazing through the eddying bodies, he looked to her shelter. The flap hung motionless. Somewhere in the back of his mind, dread built, a feeling as terrible as if the end of the world had come. He picked up his feet to run, panic increasing with each pounding step. Stopping before the flap, he shouted, “Heron!”
No answer came.
Breathlessly, he called again, “Heron?” He felt as though
his heart were breaking and he didn’t know why. He stepped forward cautiously in the dark.
“Wolf Dreamer?”
He turned at Broken Branch’s voice. “Where’s Heron?”
The old woman waddled out of the dark, features illuminated by a burning knot of willow root. “In there … When you left to find the People, she did something. Said I should leave her alone.”
From her ancient fingers, he took the root and clamped it hard in his trembling fingers. Then, bending low, he stepped inside, the fire flickering and jumping yellowly off the walls.
On the floor, Heron glared up at him, glassy eyes shining eerily in the light of the torch. Beside her lay gatherings of willow stems and … mushrooms. Their flat black shapes loomed dangerous, deadly, where they lay exposed in the folds of the fox hide.
Horror twisted his soul. He cried pitiably, “No … no, what did you do?”
“Dream … Dream, boy.” The words shuddered from her mouth.
He crouched and touched her arm tenderly. “You’re so cold.”
Frantic, he plucked wood from the pile, applying the burning roots, thankful as flames licked up around the dry sticks.
“Here, sit up. Let me—”
“C-can’t, boy. Poison. Can’t move. Can’t … feel. Dreaming, boy. Drifting. Not … not here.”
He dropped to his knees, heart bursting, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Fight them,” he whispered. “You can do it. Don’t let their spirits beat you!”
He wrapped her in her robes, keeping her warm where she lay beside the crackling coals. “Please, Heron. Come back. I need you. I’m not finished learning.”
“Dream, boy!” she croaked, saliva dribbling down her chin, eyes unfocused. “See? Look … there!” She cried:
“Built a big mountain out of dirt.
Raised on sweat and hurt.
Rose so high over the river.
Eating plants! Bah! No spirit in that.
Not like blood-filled liver.
”Father of Waters flows so rich,
Trickles water into the ditch.
Grow a plant, so tall and green,
Fruit is yellow. I have seen.
Feathers colored, the dead are laid.
Logs across and dirt is made.
Lazy sloth, in baskets carried—
Sun, man, and woman high are married.”
“She’s raving,” Broken Branch murmured from behind him, voice shaky. “I don’t know what to do for her.”
“Nothing,” Wolf Dreamer said in a pained voice. “We talked about this possibility months ago. I think I understand what’s happening to her. She’ll live so long as she follows the Dream. If she hesitates, loses herself for an instant—she’s dead.”
“Sun God!” Heron exploded, body jerking.
“Born of Light!
Spiral, you god of gaudy feathers!
Carry the plant upon your back.
Parch the seeds upon the rack.
Rocks like sky are passing by.”
A black look crossed her face.
“Sun children … kill each other.
Long way south for the death of a brother.
Hot, dry, war is nigh.
Sing, Sun God, blood rises … stingers in the sky.
“And among the People?
Come the brothers!
Born of Sun. One is slayed.
Here, by the long trail, his corpse is laid.
Blood is spread, from the head.
Black one goes … aye, he’s dead.
He who loves is lost and gone.
Render of the fair heart’s song.
Woman weep, for not you know.
Lose forever—or live in snow!”
“That’s it,” he whispered, rocking her gently back and forth in his arms. “Follow the Dream through.”
“You, boy,” she whispered.
“You. Born of Father Sun.
Laid in the light next to night.
Choose, my people.
Dance the Father you don’t know.
South, ever south we go …
Find an end to the blowing snow.”
She blinked spastically.
“Death in the high plains.
Others come.
Our old path they follow from.
Shelters they dig in the ground.
Made like holes in the round.
Farther … farther south they go.
Shelters.
Rock piled high. Raise the infants to the god in the sky.
Earth, hey Earth, from it spread.
Raise the underworld of the dead.
“Flight of the bird, so big, so loud.
Calls the lightning from the cloud.”
“What’s she talking about?” Broken Branch asked. Wolf Dreamer shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Monster creatures on bellies crawl.
Bite a man’s foot. Watch him fall.
Legless, armless, hair of scale.
Shakes a rattle on his tail.
Teeth of poison, hollow flail,
Makes blood black and frail.”
Wolf Dreamer closed his eyes, her hand bound in his.
“East, aye, east.
Then south the trail.
Born of ice … the mother’s womb.
Oh, black brother, there lies your doom.
Taken by sea, their father came,
Born of Sun, of Sun the same.
One must live and one must die.
See the souls rise to the sky.
“The sky? Aye, always the sky.
Blazing hot, and white the land,
Scorched by burning brand.
Dream the big beasts to the stars, away.
Their corpses bleach on dusty clay.
Change the land the People tread.
Find a new way … or we’ll all be dead.
Learn the grass, the root, the berry.
Time is short, life not merry.
Pound and grind, grind and pound,
While the hot wind blows around.”
“How do we know,” Broken Branch muttered hoarsely, “what she means?”
“Who … who called?” Heron’s head twisted. “A voice out of time … Under it all, lies old pain.”
“It’s me, you old hag,” Broken Branch said in a strained voice.
“Hush!” Wolf Dreamer ordered in terror. Broken Branch’s hand flew to her quivering mouth. Wolf Dreamer pulled Heron close, whispering in her ear, “Hold the Dream. Don’t let go of it!”
“Broken Branch,” Heron muttered, shaking her head violently. “Death to the west! Bear Hunter? Bear Hunter! Come back to … to …”
She stiffened, gasping, mouth open, eyes wide. “Back to … the Dream. Gone … with Bear Hunter. Gone …”
She stiffened, tongue protruding, images of horror reflected in her eyes. “Can’t … love …”
The old woman went limp in his arms.
Stunned, he waited, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. “Heron? Dream. Follow it through!”
Her eyes emptied in the flickers of the fire. No expression changed her slack face.
“No …” he whispered in agony, shaking her gently. “No, don’t leave me.”
Broken Branch wailed, “She’s gone! No, I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“It wasn’t you, Grandmother,” he comforted. “It was Bear Hunter that killed her.”
Broken Branch swallowed. “No, can’t be. Dead. The man’s been dead for years … years.”
“She loved him.” He fought the growing pit of cold expanding in his stomach. “She told me once. Can’t Dream … and love.”
The pain caught him unawares, wrapping around him, stinging his eyes, burning his heart. He barely heard himself start sobbing in anguish.