“Their women come first.” Eagle Cries looked up from the rock he lay on, perplexed as he stared into the blowing snow.
“Looks like an entire clan on the move. Coming right for us. But I’ve never heard of the Others coming with the women first. And look, there’s children with them.”
“This will be a slaughter,” Eagle Cries added with a grin. “Kill their women, and they’ll never come so arrogantly to our land again.”
Singing Wolf’s hard face tightened, eyes far away, as if
envisioning his own wife and child facing darts. Dancing Fox squinted into the growing storm.
“There’s one man walking in the front,” Big Mouth called softly from the side. “See? The one with the white cloak slung about his parka. That’s a man. Why only one?”
“Ice Fire.” Dancing Fox sat up. “Not only that, but see, he comes to the place where we turned back their advance scouts. No, I think this is more than an attempt at taking our land. If it was war they sought, the young men would come first—alone.”
“You’re not going to trust Others?” Eagle Cries looked up.
Crow Foot and Full Moon grumbled to each other on the other side of the defile. Dancing Fox shot a hot glance in their direction. “Eagle Cries, if any of the young men start something, your first cast is into them.”
“Into our own …” His mouth dropped open.
Dancing Fox tilted her head, knowing all eyes had gone to her.
“That’s what she said,” Singing Wolf supported. “I heard the Dreamer put her in charge of the warriors. He came out from a Dreaming and told me. Act against Dancing Fox, and you act against the Dreamer and the People.”
Eagle Cries dropped his eyes, a sullen expression on his face.
“You can always follow in the footsteps of Crow Caller,” Dancing Fox reminded casually. “No one forces you to obey the Dreamer.”
The warriors stared uneasily back and forth as she crawled back from the edge.
“What are you doing?” Singing Wolf cried, trying to keep his voice down.
“I’m going to see what Ice Fire—if that’s who that is—wants. I’m going to see why he’s come like this, leading women and children.”
“It’s a trap,” Eagle Cries sputtered angrily. “These are Others, woman. The ones who drove us from our lands. You’d talk with such maggots?”
She stared at him, a cool control asserted in her crossed arms. “It’s time to see what can be done about all this. The Others know the way to the hole in the Big Ice. What do we
do? Try and stop them? Just the handful of us who remain on this side of the ice? If we try and stand up to them, we’ll die. You, me, our families. Moon Water knows the way. Our old people can’t outrun their young warriors. We can’t close the hole through the ice. So, what will we do? Here, at least, we have an opportunity to talk.”
“Go.” Singing Wolf motioned, eyes on Eagle Cries. “It’s time for sense instead of anger. Perhaps words will do what darts have failed to.”
“Cover me from above. If they didn’t come to talk, I’ll try to kill Ice Fire and escape up the trail. Our position is strong enough you should be able to keep them off.” She hesitated. “Assuming a dart from above doesn’t skewer me.”
Eagle Cries’ jaw ground loudly, muscles knotting in his cheeks as he lowered his eyes. “You’ll be safe from above,” he mumbled. “I swear by the spirits of the Long Dark.” He looked meaningfully at the rest of the warriors where they crouched in the rocks, watching.
Nodding sharply, she took the trail.
Her ankle pained her, sending stitches up her leg. But then, it always did now when a storm was blowing down.
She stepped down the rocks into the narrow defile, winding around the bend where they’d ambushed the Other warriors. That event, too, had strained her authority. Perhaps, however, it now paid off. Perhaps the lives of those warriors had brought Ice Fire.
She stepped around the corner, seeing the Others climbing up from below. Snow had begun to fall from the darkening sky, big fluffy flakes landing on her shoulders, sticking to the fur at the side of her hood, melting coldly on her bare hand where she gripped her darts.
The man in the front looked up, stopping. A young man ran up from behind, pointing to the cleft where she waited, chattering excitedly to the leader before running nimbly back down through the gathering Others. A visible tension rippled through the group as they shaded eyes against the snow, staring up at her from under the flats of their hands.
She stepped forward, anxiously bracing her feet apart. The man continued his walk up the trail, now less than a dart’s throw away.
As he closed, she studied him. Tall, lean, he wore a doubled
parka, hood thrown back to expose his long graying hair. A white fox-skin cloak lay over his shoulders. His feet moved surely on the trail, each step light.
Her heart began to pound again as she looked into his knowing eyes. A Power lay there, a Power like the one she’d seen in a young Runs In Light’s face. A longing restricted the base of her throat. She’d loved the man who’d once looked at her out of those eyes.
“Ice Fire?” she asked when he finally stopped, no more than a body length away.
He nodded, studying her. His handsome face hardened. “Dancing Fox.”
She stared intently, going over his every feature. He looks so much like Runs In Light.
“Tell me what you’re seeing?” he asked softly.
“Nothing … I … you look like someone I know.”
“And you look like someone I knew once. She was part of a Dream. Had the Spirit Powers and Heron not been interfering, and had I been in possession of my senses … things might have happened differently that day on the beach.”
His voice touched something deep within. A shiver finger traced up her back. “Spirit Power makes people do strange things.”
He nodded, heedless of the rapidly falling snow that swirled on the whimpering wind. “You sent my warriors back.”
“The time for killing is over. You came with women and children in the lead. What do you want here? This last refuge you’ve left us is almost devoid of game. We haven’t much left but our lives and our honor. Still, we’ll keep what’s ours if you’ve come to take it.”
His nostrils flared as he filled his lungs. A curious smile bent his lips. “Perhaps the time for taking from one another is over, too.”
A tracing of humor animated his eyes. A part of her instinctively sought to trust him. She waited, knowing the bargain was yet to come. He watched her, as if knowing her very thoughts. A quizzical expression vied with a deep regret in his sensitive eyes.
“Is it?” she riposted.
“We’ve taken your land. You’ve taken our soul. Haven’t we hurt each other enough?”
“We’ve heard your people live to kill, that the warrior way is where you find honor. Have you changed so much since I sent your warriors back?”
He dropped his eyes to stare at the snow gathering on her long boots. “Perhaps it’s not a change so much as a return to the old ways.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We come from the same people. Didn’t Heron tell you? Had my grandfathers not feared yours, our loins would have interlocked. Our clans would share meat over a warm fire today.” He paused, eyes softening. “Had Spirit Power not intervened, perhaps these years of war and rape would have been avoided.”
She watched him warily. “You seem at home with Spirit Power.”
The lines around his mouth tightened. “Spirit Power is just that. Power. How it’s used—what it becomes—depends on the emotions of people involved. Some will use it for only good. Some for only evil. I’ve reason to regret some uses and to hope for others.”
She nodded, respecting the earnest way he spoke, attracted to his humility. “You and your people climbed so far to tell us that?”
He shook his head. “We came for something of ours that you have.”
“The White Hide?”
“Yes.”
She slitted her eyes, tensing. “One of our people has that hide. His name is Raven Hunter. He has been disgraced by our Dreamer.”
“We know him. We’d planned on torturing him to death for the horrors he committed on our relatives. He escaped, taking our most sacred White Hide with him. Now we must get it back. Perhaps we can come to an agreement which will accomplish several aims. Will you and your warriors accept a truce? Will you be willing to listen as we listen to you?”
She considered, studying him, looking for the trap. “A lot of pain has been inflicted. Many of the People cry for the blood of Others. They cry for revenge.”
A grunt of assertion came from above despite the orders to remain quiet. Ice Fire must have heard, but he betrayed nothing, gaze steadily locked with hers. “It won’t be easy,” he admitted frankly. “Among the White Tusk Clan, many have suffered at your hands. Even my Singer wishes death for all of you.” A wry smile crossed his lips. “Is that not yet another thing which binds us to each other?”
She chuckled before she caught herself.
A twinkle of appreciation sparkled in his knowing eyes. “Leaders with a sense of humor can get along.”
She nodded. “Maybe. Tell me where we shall talk?”
He gestured over his shoulder. “A storm comes. I see from your clothing that times have been hard. There has been little game in your camps recently. If you will allow us to camp on your land, we will supply you with shelters and food. Our hunters had a good year. Perhaps we can begin a mending of the rift between our peoples. Out of all this trouble, perhaps we can bring good. Do you think Father Sun would mind our offering a truce for peace in his name?”
Her eyes narrowed. He wanted to make an offering to the People’s gods? Where was the flaw? Could she trust this man she instinctively liked? He did offer food and shelter. Too many nights they’d been freezing in their worn-out parkas, huddled together for shared warmth.
“I’ll need to talk to my warriors.”
He nodded, arms spread wide. “You might want to argue with some haste; this looks to be a bad storm. If you could fight it out in a hurry, we could be pitching camp and cooking food for all before it gets really bad.”
She laughed and nodded, holding his warm eyes. “I’ll argue fast, Ice Fire.” She wheeled and trotted up the trail.
Eagle Cries and the rest watched from outside the camp, huddling close in the growing cold, fingering darts as they stared through the haze of blowing snow at the Others staring back, fingering their darts in return.
Inside the main lodge, the leaders of both tribes sat together around a large fire, the flames flickering golden across their wary faces. Rich aromas of caribou steak and sweet boiled roots filled the smoky air.
Singing Wolf tilted his head to stare through the partially open door flap at the evil night. “They’ll freeze out there.”
Dancing Fox took another bite of the roasted caribou, chewing it thoughtfully. “Maybe it’ll cool some of their anger.”
“Anger cools slowly,” Ice Fire admitted unhappily as he wiped greasy fingers on his long boots. He shot a quick glance at Red Flint, who glowered around the lodge.
The old Singer grunted, casting surly eyes on Singing Wolf. “Some of us bear too many scars.”
“We all bear scars,” Singing Wolf remarked mildly. He wiped the grease from his mouth. “I, for one, took the heart of a warrior of your people and placed it in the Big River so it would go to the Camp of Souls under the sea.”
“You …” Red Flint swallowed hard. His eyes shifted away and he got to his feet, walking to the flap, crawling out into the snow beyond.
Singing Wolf closed his eyes and sighed. “I fear peace will not come easily.” He shook his head. “It’s been a long time since I was warm. If you’ll excuse me, I’m taking this opportunity to sleep without my teeth chattering like gulls’ beaks.”
“Sleep without fear, friend,” Ice Fire assured.
For long moments after Singing Wolf rolled in his robes, Dancing Fox sat staring into the fire, a prickling awareness of the Others’ Most Respected Elder obsessing her.
“You surprise me.”
She looked over at him, experiencing that same tingle when their gazes touched that she had all evening. “Why?”
“I don’t expect such poise and intelligence from a woman so young.”
“I’m not young anymore.” She rubbed her eyes, feeling the incredible mantle of responsibility weighing on her shoulder. “I was young once, three years ago—an eternity.”
He paused, fingers tapping lightly on the hides the women had laid over the floor. “I’m surprised a man hasn’t made a wife of you. Your beauty takes a man’s breath away. When I look into your eyes, I see strength and soul.” He paused, unsure for the first time since she’d met him. “You have a lover?”
She smiled wryly, curiously unperturbed by his forward
question. “I loved once. It seems a Dream has stolen his soul more completely than I ever could have.”
Ice Fire smiled wistfully. “Wolf Dreamer. Heron must have led him to that.”
She studied him speculatively. “What do you know of Heron? Of Wolf Dreamer?”
He leaned back, face going serious. “I … met him in a Dream. You see he’s … my son.”
She straightened. “You’re his father?”
The edges of his lips twitched. “Yes, his and Raven Hunter’s. That’s why I couldn’t let him die—despite what he’d become.” His eyes flickered to hers. “Is that a terrible weakness? That I couldn’t kill my son?”
She thought about it, a tenderness in her breast that he would confide in her. “No, I don’t think so.” She shifted, reclining, pulling her hair to the side. “All of us, all people, have to cherish our children. They’re the future.”
He played with a frayed corner of the white fox cloak. A corner—she noted—that had become smudged from fingering, the hair mostly gone, worn away. More than anything else, the action made him less powerful—a frail human like herself.
“The future,” he repeated. “Yes. That’s why I couldn’t watch Raven Hunter die—no matter that he’d earned it.”
She inspected him, the wariness back. “For the mutilations and retaliation?”
At her cooling tone, he looked up. For a moment, he searched her eyes, then shook his head slightly. “For being what he is.” He paused. “Let’s see, how do I explain.” His hands molded the air before him. “A man, or woman for that matter, is body and soul; agreed?”
She nodded, waiting.
“The body can be flawed. Maybe born without fingers, maybe it’s not strong enough to stand the cold, or it coughs and dies, or it’s stillborn.” He shifted again, straining for the right words. “It’s the same with the soul. In Raven Hunter’s case, something is missing. He’s preoccupied with himself … with this obsession for Power. And the problem is that he has glimpses, visions of what could be. Only he doesn’t have the ability to extend that part of soul and share the identity. Understand?”
“Share the identity,” she mused, bracing her chin on her palm.
“Yes,” he whispered, handsome lines of his face puckering. “A healthy soul can extend itself, put itself in the place of another creature’s experiences. From that comes wisdom. I learned it long ago.” He stared at the fire, a sadness deep in his eyes. “Raven Hunter, however, has none of that compassion, that extension of the soul.”
She reached over, touching his shoulder, meeting his eyes as he looked up. “But you saved him anyway?”
For a long moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not all that compassionate.” He looked around, seeing Singing Wolf’s slack face in the back where he slept soundly. “Perhaps I’m as much a monster as Raven Hunter. I provided him with the opportunity to steal the White Hide.”
She started. “You let him steal the …”
Ice Fire lifted a shoulder. “It’s a means to an end which needs to be met.” He gestured, mouth working, a conspiratorial light in his eye. He lowered his voice and she bent closer. “You must tell no one. Not your people, and especially none of mine. I’ve seen where my son Wolf Dreamer is going. I know the future of the People is in the south. And I know we were one, once, long ago. I don’t know why, but somehow, I was set up. My wife died. My life changed. I loved her with all my heart. And when she’d been taken, I left. Just like that. Men who’ve been hurt terribly, they do strange things sometimes. We were camped along the salt water at the time, down where the land bends south, where the southern sea is only a month’s journey away. That camp’s under the water now, long buried, but something drove me east along the coast.”
“something drove you?”
“At night, Dreams haunted me. My wife filled them, and I felt the presence of another woman. Like me, her soul cried out over the loss of a loved one.” He studied her. “I don’t know if you can understand, but I thought it was a Spirit Woman—to take the place of my wife.” He swallowed.
“Then, one day, I awoke, and the Dream was powerful. I walked in a daze, hearing a calling—a powerful calling. It stirred me and I felt desire for the first time since my wife
had died. And then I saw her. Beautiful.” He reached up, gently touching Fox’s long hair, a reverence in his eyes as he ran his fingers along her face.
“I knew it was the Dream woman. I … I stalked her, afraid she’d disappear into the mists, back into the sea. That fear drove me to a madness, and when she saw me, and ran, I chased her down.” His hands knotted and he closed his eyes. “I took her there on the sand, the Dream pounding in my ears. With each movement of my body, the Power built until my soul sang and seemed to explode with the glory of it.
“And I came to, lying there on her, totally spent. And I looked down into her eyes and saw pain and hurt and disbelief all rush up at me.”
He frowned at the fire. “And I realized what I’d done. The edges of the Dream were there, the Spirit Woman watching from someplace else through a Dream. And I knew it wasn’t that girl, so beautiful, so vulnerable. When I looked into those shattered eyes, I knew I could have loved her. That she could have loved me. Only Heron’s Dream changed it. It wasn’t supposed to have happened like that. And the children that rape bore were different, changed by the violence of their conception. Circles within circles, everything changed and no reason why. Like a spiral, which is the outside and which the in?”
She stared at him, soul drifting in his soft eyes. “And you think it would have all been different without Heron?”
He nodded miserably. “The woman on the beach and I, we were to love, to unite the People. Instead, so many died. Raiding began because I wasn’t the one to return with a wife of the People—to link our clans which had been split so long ago.”
“Perhaps Heron had her reasons. I hear she was driven by things beyond her, too.”
He nodded contemplatively. “Maybe.”
“Didn’t you tell your—”
“I’ve told no one the whole truth. Oh, Red Flint knows some of the story. But not the Power of the symbolism. He doesn’t know how important it is for us to go south. If he did, he’d probably kill me on the spot and assume the Most
Respected Elder robe, despite the fact that visions scare him to death.”
Dancing Fox touched his hand, feeling his fingers twine strongly with hers. “Why did you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He focused on the fire a moment, then asked, “Tell me about you? What drives you?”
“The survival of my people.”
Ice Fire’s eyes deepened and she seemed to fall into them. “And what would you give for that survival?”
“Anything.”
“I know a way.”
She probed his gentle expression cautiously. “Tell me about it.”
“Will you trust me? Take me and a handful of my young men to your camp beyond the Big Ice to get the White Hide back? If your people were to return it as a gesture of goodwill, and my clan were to offer gifts of clothing, food, and new shelters, we might be able to forge a new people.”
“Or reforge an old one?”
He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Yes. Then you think we could share the south together?”
“Together.” The word rested easily on the tip of her tongue. “I’ve been alone for so long, I’m not sure what that means anymore.”
His warm smile caressed her heart. “Nor do I, but it’s part of the Dream. A chance to reunite that which should have never been sundered.”
She peered into the fire, watching the rose-amber flames lick at the rocks lining the pit. Slowly, her eyes shifted to rest on their entwined fingers. Noting her gaze, he hesitantly brought his other hand over to turn up her chin and meet her eyes.
Do I trust him? She looked hard into his eyes, trying to read his soul. How many times have men made promises to me? He has a new land to gain. And the People? Can we stand against them in the end? His warriors look healthy, strong, eager for war. Can our young men stop them?
A grim reality blocked her thoughts. What choice do I have? And yes … despite my fears, I trust him. Her heart raced. Fool!
“It won’t be easy,” he warned, seeing her caution. “I think we both know that.”
She nodded. “I’ll take you—and only a handful of your young men—to the People. Call it a test of your resolve. But Raven Hunter will be there.”
“Yes.” He nodded soberly. “I’ve been preparing for that final confrontation.”
“It will be … cataclysmic.” She stilled, tensing.
He nodded soberly, meeting her eyes. “You know what’s coming, then?”
Her teeth ground hollowly as she nodded. “Not completely.”
He began to say something and hesitated, seeing her stiffen. “I wish I knew which of them is stronger.”