Darkness swelled around them, heavy and damp. Above, the ghosts groaned and shrieked, their voices often so loud the People couldn’t hear one another speaking. Ice Fire braced his back against the gritty ice wall, feeling along the rough surface with his hands as he cautiously placed each foot. Dancing Fox walked gracefully in front of him, silhouetted by the fat-fed lamp Moon Water had told him how to find. Such a little light, such a terrifying place. And she had passed through here in the darkness—while water ran? His respect and admiration grew.
They pushed onward, a bond forming despite the bristling hostility. Men and women alone with their fears, not even their intense hatred could separate them from the rumbling ice overhead.
“I’m more awed by Wolf Dreamer every day,” Ice Fire admitted. “How could anyone trust themselves to this?”
Dancing Fox nodded soberly. “And I’ve been through it twice before. It never gets any easier.”
A sudden grunt sounded; Red Flint fell with a sodden thud. Something snapped like a dart shaft. He groaned and caught his breath.
“What is it?” Singing Wolf called in the darkness, voice echoing eerily.
“My foot,” Red Flint groaned, the sound of his hides rustling against the rocks and gravel.
“Here. I found you. Take my hand,” Singing Wolf comforted. “I’m bending down to feel your ankle. Can you guide my hand?”
Dancing Fox turned, starting back with the lamp. Ice Fire followed.
In the dim light, they saw Singing Wolf bending over the Singer, running quick fingers down the elder’s leg. A moment later, Red Flint gasped.
“I can feel it through your long boot. Broken.”
Red Flint choked some whimpering sound. “Not in here,” he whispered.
“We’ll get you through,” Singing Wolf reassured. Unslinging his pack, he laid out a long rawhide thong and two sticks. “Let me splint that. We can bear you on our shoulders.”
“Wait,” Broken Shaft called from further behind. “He’s our Singer. We’ll carry him.”
Into the darkness, Ice Fire called firmly, “We’ll take turns carrying him—and anyone else who hurts themselves. Or have you forgotten where we are?” He looked around, meeting worried eyes in the faint light cast by the lamp.
The ice shifted somewhere overhead, the rasping vibrations loud around them. For a second no one moved.
“We’ll all take turns,” Dancing Fox said crisply into the resulting deadly quiet. The subject closed, she bent down so Singing Wolf could see better as he bound willow artfully around Red Flint’s leg.
Fires sparkled like amber jewels strewn across the camp. People stood silhouetted before the flames, roasting meat, fiddling with boiling bags. In the light of the fires, prosperous new shelters of freshly scraped hide rose. The odors of cooking meat, roasting liver, and fat filled the air along with the pungency of a strange smoke. For once, the raking breath of Wind Woman had stilled. Sounds carried on the quiet night, the stars glittering, the mists banished for this evening of celebration. Raven Hunter sighed in elation and relief as a
pack of dogs yapped suddenly and raced out into the growing darkness toward him.
“Get away! You filthy …” Raven Hunter cursed, kicking weakly at the darting beasts.
“Who comes?”
“Raven Hunter,” he told the guard arrogantly, trying to stop wheezing. Legs trembling, he staggered past, hearing feet trotting behind him.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you. Is that someone wounded over your shoulder? A body? What—”
“Get away!” he cried as the young man reached for the White Hide. As if his words had triggered it, Wind Woman gusted out of the north, a biting nip in her cold breath.
The man backed uncertainly in the dark.
Raven Hunter’s eyes gleamed as he stepped into the light of the biggest fire, easing the White Hide down on Green Water’s unoccupied robe. The People gaped, eyes wide as if one of the Monster Children had stepped magically from the sky and into their midst. Wolfishly, he peered around. Thick chunks of spruce popped and cracked, twisting spirals of sparks whirling up into the night sky.
“Raven Hunter!”
His name passed from mouth to mouth.
Yes. He laughed to himself, turning on his heels and pinning their eyes, delighted by the awe in their laughter. I’m back, my people. I have returned … with a new way. A way you’ll all follow. Now, none may question me. None may challenge MY leadership.
“Look at him! He’s different—changed.” “Look at the light in his eyes. Like a Dreamer—he’s seen something.” “How did he dare to come back?” they murmured, backing away as he laughed.
“Raven Hunter?” Buffalo Back appeared from out of the dark, head tilted, rheumy old eyes faded and unsure. Firelight flickered across his wrinkled face.
“I have returned!” he called out. Straightening his back, he jammed his good thumb into his chest, ordering at the top of his lungs, “Look at me!”
They came from all around the camp, feet grating on snow. Anxiously they looked, hissing questions back and forth behind their hands.
“See me?” he called. “Look at a hero!” He knotted a fist and raised it high over his head. “I, Raven Hunter, the first warrior of the People, went to kill the Other shaman, Ice Fire! I, Raven Hunter, first warrior of the People, stole the White Hide instead! What is the life of a worthless Dreamer when the heart and soul of a people can be looted away?”
“You did what?” Buffalo Back asked, eyes going wide. “The White Hide? The White Mammoth Hide? The one their Power …” He gulped, unable to finish, and backed away a step. A hushed chattering picked up among the rings of spectators.
“I took it!” he asserted, the thrill of victory shooting up through him, lending strength to his weaving body. “I robbed them of their spirit—of their courage and will. Do you think they can stand against us now? Do you think the silly tricks of my witch brother can lead you? Here! Look at me and see a man of true Power! My father, Father Sun, is more powerful than their Great Mystery. Now their greatest totem has fallen to us … to me!”
“But they’ll come after it!” Buffalo Back cried. He advanced, chin thrust out, hands imploring. “You can’t take such a powerful—”
Raven Hunter lanced stiff fingers into Buffalo Back’s old throat. It took all his strength, but he backheeled the man, his useless arm flapping and blasting pain. Nevertheless, as the old man dropped, choking and gagging, Raven Hunter centered himself, dropping his knee across the old man’s throat, his total weight behind it.
The snap carried loud in the air, people staring, mouths opened in shock. For a brief second they stood, then rushed forward as a river when the spring ice breaks, reaching for him.
“Stop!” he shouted, slashing out with his good hand as he jumped backward to grip the White Hide.
People milled, losing momentum, some in the front stepping back as Raven Hunter lovingly stroked the Hide. He felt the Power, using it to push them back. “Yes, you feel it, don’t you? The White Hide serves me. I am the Power of the People. As this Hide kept the Others—made them strong—so shall it now keep the People.”
Broken Branch hobbled her way through the assembly, elbowing
people to get them to move. She stopped, swinging her wizened head around the circle, then stared down at Buffalo Back, grunting under her breath. When she looked up, her eyes glittered.
“So,” she accused. “You got Buffalo Back this time? Who’s left? Four Teeth and me? Then you don’t have any elders to stand before you.”
“I have the Power, old woman.” The surge filled his chest. “See the White Hide? It’s mine. The gift of Father Sun to me, his child. You know the story, don’t you, old woman? The story of my mother, taken by Father Sun as she walked by the salt water?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t—”
“And two sons were born, taking my mother’s life in the birth.” He cackled the Power of it. “A woman can’t bear Father Sun’s children and live. The Power is too great. That’s why I’ve always seen. I’m his new way for the People. Look, old hag, see the White Hide? We’re here, south of the ice, and Father Sun has given me the strength to carry the White Hide away from the Others. Father Sun has tried me, molded me through hardship and suffering. He’s shown me fear and cold and hunger and pain. And now, he’s shown me the way to lead the People.”
“You killed Buffalo Back!” Broken Branch cried feebly, pointing with a gnarled finger. “You’ve broken the People’s peace. Last time, Wolf Dreamer kept us from casting you out. But this … this is too much!”
He closed his eyes to slits. “You’d try me, woman? One step closer, and I’ll kill you. That’s the Power of the White Hide. Unless you can feel the Power, you can’t understand what it gives me.” He reached, energized by the touch of the Hide, grabbing up her skinny arm. He closed his thick fingers around the wailing woman’s wrist, feeling the brittle bones sliding across each other. Her hideous cry fueled him, goading, as the bone cracked and snapped and Broken Branch screamed agonizingly.
He released her, letting her collapse in a whimpering heap at his feet. The cold Power radiated through him, as his hot gaze cataloged their horrified faces. None could meet his eyes; they backed away, swallowing, shaking their heads.
He seated himself, careful of his swollen arm. “Is this how
you treat the bearer of the White Hide? Is this a hero’s welcome? Bring me food. Hot roasted liver, thick steaks rich in fat. Now! Or the old woman dies.”
Green Water separated herself from the crowd, ignoring his attention as she gently bent over Broken Branch, attempting to lift her.
“I didn’t say she could leave.” Raven Hunter glared icily.
“I didn’t ask you.” Green Water met his eyes, a strength there he’d never seen before.
He moved quickly, tumbling Green Water aside with his foot.
Overbalanced, she rolled, catching herself on propped hands. Green Water’s eyes sparked like flint off granite as she stood, jaw muscles jumping with anger.
I’ve never noticed how attractive she is. Perhaps she can warm the White Hide for me until Dancing Fox arrives? He chuckled to himself. How long since he’d had a good woman?
He reached down, dragging Broken Branch closer. The old woman huddled over her broken arm, clutching it as she moaned to herself. His eyes didn’t leave Green Water’s.
“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the ground before him. She started to shake her head as he reached down, gripping the back of the old woman’s neck. Green Water froze as Broken Branch stiffened.
“Sit,” Raven Hunter repeated, voice soft.
“Don’t do it!” Broken Branch raged, slapping and kicking at Raven Hunter. “Your head’s blowed up like a walrus bladder. What makes you think we’ll obey your foolishness?”
He easily shoved her aside and leaned down to glare into her withered face. “You won’t have a choice,” he said, stroking the Hide. Then he turned back to Green Water. “I said sit!”
Eyes locked with his, Green Water lowered herself, lips twitching, missing no detail of his actions.
Two girls, almost to womanhood, set a hide boiling bag full of meat before him, then darted nervously into the night. After taking note of the silent people, Raven Hunter attacked it with abandon, eating heartily but slowly, knowing the risks of overeating on an empty stomach.
“Where is my brother?” He looked up, saliva filling his mouth with the blissful taste of fresh meat. Strength, drawn
for so long from the White Hide, was replaced in his stomach.
Jumping Hare’s tight expression barely changed. “He’s out there, in the dark. One Who Cries went to get him.”
Raven Hunter cocked his head. “Out in the dark?” He burst out laughing. “My idiot brother’s out in the dark when his better comes to lead the tribe into a new land?” He laughed again. “Oh, that’s rich, isn’t it? That’s the man you trusted yourselves to?”
Some of the young men began looking back and forth. The demonstration of Power over Buffalo Back, Broken Branch, and Green Water had shown the White Hide’s gift. Raven Hunter nodded, catching their eyes. “Yes, my friends, think of it. You turned your backs on me at Heron’s. Thought you’d seen a greater strength than mine, eh?” They lowered their eyes, heads bowing to the validity of his words. “But who comes in out of the night, the White Hide of the Others over his shoulder? And where is Runs In Light? Oh, excuse me. Wolf Dreamer.” He cocked his head. “What? No answer? It wouldn’t be because he’s out in the dark … having false Dreams?”
They all shifted as Raven Hunter continued to eat, rationing himself piece by piece, savoring the taste so as not to bolt the food and vomit.
Green Water’s glittering eyes never left him. A defiant woman as well as an attractive one? He’d find a lot of satisfaction in driving himself between her legs. He’d have to kill One Who Cries—or perhaps the coward wouldn’t challenge his authority.
“A new land, a new leadership.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You see, from now on, the strong will dictate where the bands move. We’ve made a mistake all these years listening to the likes of Buffalo Back.” He pushed the corpse with his toe. “As a result of their decisions, we’re wasted, ground away by war and disease. That won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll rebuild the People. Make them strong so that no Others anywhere will ever wear us away again. Like the wolves, our strongest will lead.”
He looked up, chewing, hearing the young men whispering back and forth. “Do you like that? Would you be wolves? Or like the musk ox, slow and stupid?”
A gleam had settled in the young men’s eyes. Raven Hunter smiled. “Yes, you remember the honor I led you to. You remember the strength that was ours before Wolf Dreamer tricked us.” He looked around. “What does one do with a witch?”
“You know nothing of Power, young idiot,” Broken Branch spat from where she hunched before him. She started to scuttle away, but he hooked a toe under her arm and hauled her back, chewing thoughtfully as he looked down into her hate-filled eyes. Green Water started to her feet as he kicked the old woman to the ground and settled his worn-out long boots over her neck. Green Water froze, fear of him bright in her eyes. The corners of her wide lips trembled.
“A worthless woman, you know?” He chewed and swallowed. “She’s borne all the children she’ll ever bear for the People. Should have killed her clear back at Mammoth Camp. Remember the discussion we had? About how a woman was good only to grow a man’s seed? Now she eats our food, drinks our tea. Without her, there’s more for everyone.”
“No!” Laughing Sunshine and Curlew rushed forward, stopping as Green Water thrust her hand out.
“That’s right.” Raven Hunter plucked up another small piece of meat, plopping it in his mouth, feeling life born again in his aching joints. “He who challenges, faces not only me, but the White Hide. You rush forward, the old hag dies. You kill me, the Power of the White Hide is unleashed against the People. I’m the future. I’m destiny. Bring me new long boots, a new parka. This is winter. A leader of the People shouldn’t be dressed in rags.”
“What of your wounded arm?” Salmon Bone asked.
“A man of Power needs no arm.” Raven Hunter yawned, staring at them through slitted eyes. And still no Runs In Light? Oh, this is good indeed! The Power of the White Hide must have gutted the poor fool, filled him with fear. Real Power has that ability.
“You’re sick,” Green Water whispered. “Twisted. Filled by some wretched ghost.”
He laughed. “Id expect a statement like that from someone who doesn’t understand—doesn’t see with the clarity I do. It’s in the Hide. My visions have been true all along.”
He smiled at Green Water. “And beginning tonight, I shall plant my seed among the People.”
She sucked in her breath. “You wouldn’t …”
He pressed down slightly on Broken Branch’s neck while the People shuffled nervously, the young men’s eyes veiled. In the background, Raven Hunter saw One Who Cries start forward, hearing the last. Hard hands grabbed him back, people whispering tersely in his ear.
“People,” Raven Hunter added reasonably, “have certain responsibilities to those with Power. I was born of Father Sun’s seed! I am the gift of Father Sun—the way to the new life. What woman with sense wouldn’t want to share my strength?”
“Me!” Broken Branch hissed from under his foot. Raven Hunter looked down.
“The old way must go.” He smiled at her. “As I speak, I’ll crush the life out of your thin neck, old hag. The Power of the White Hide—”
“—is nothing in your hands!” a strange and powerful voice commanded.
People turned, squinting into the blackness of the forest.
Raven Hunter balanced his foot, the breath wheezing in and out of Broken Branch’s constricted throat.
They walked in from the side, ten people. Eagle Cries, Dancing Fox, Crow Foot, and … and Ice Fire? Red Flint? Raven Hunter’s eyes narrowed, confused.
“No closer,” he ordered. “The White Hide’s mine! The Power’s mine.”
Ice Fire walked carefully forward, calmly parting a way through the People. Behind, the Others advanced, Red Flint supported between Singing Wolf and Broken Shaft.
Raven Hunter hunched, grabbing up a corner of the White Hide, kicking Broken Branch ahead of him. “Stop, Ice Fire. Another step, and I throw the White Hide into the fire.” He balanced there, Ice Fire halting in his very tracks, a wary look on his handsome face.
“You don’t know what that would do.”
“Destroy the heart of the Mammoth People. I’d roast your soul!”
The Other warriors tensed, eyes darting back and forth,
fear replacing the haughty distrust in their eyes. Nervously they licked their lips, waiting for Ice Fire.
“And you’d bring the combined clans of the Mammoth People down on you.” Ice Fire crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, the runners are already on the way. So far, only the White Tusk Clan has fought with you. But behind us comes the Buffalo Clan, behind them, the Round Hoof Clan, and last but most deadly comes the Tiger Belly Clan.” He shook his head. “The White Hide is very important to us. The man who destroyed it would never be safe. We’d hunt him to the ends of the world.”
The frown tightened Raven Hunter’s face. “But you said …”
Ice Fire smiled wistfully. “I lied.”
Raven Hunter’s cheek began to twitch. “Lied?” Then he laughed, feeling the Power of the White Hide. “But I fooled you. I was worthy of the Hide. I carried it here. By myself. Up over the rocks, through the ice.”
Unminded, Broken Branch scuttled away into the darkness.
“And look at you.” Ice Fire shook his head. “Wasted, thin, you look like a starving wolf pup.”
Dancing Fox nodded soberly. “That’s why you didn’t follow me that day. It’s destroyed you.”
“It’s sucked his soul away.”
Raven Hunter flinched, heart pounding. No! What did the old man know? The Hide had kept him alive, not harmed him. “I’m—”
“And the caribou?” Ice Fire asked easily. “You turned your back on it. We read the story in the tracks, Raven Hunter. Obsessed with the Hide, you’d starve to serve it. Is that how you’d lead the People?”
Eagle Cries looked back and forth. “What’s this about the clans? What about more of them coming?”
Like a wash of cold water, Raven Hunter understood. “You used me,” he breathed. “You knew they’d follow! You knew!”
Ice Fire stood placidly, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “Of course. The clans of the Mammoth People needed a powerful excuse to follow you south through the ice. Only the White Hide would drive them to it.”
Raven Hunter stiffened, weaving on his feet. A nauseated cramping gripped his stomach.
Eagle Cries and the rest shifted slowly away from the jittery Others. Dancing Fox stared about nervously, seeing the lines drawn, aware of the darts being fingered by both sides. Only Ice Fire seemed calm. He smiled serenely.
“There is still time,” Eagle Cries added. “We kill the Others, take the White Hide back through the ice. If we left it there, maybe they’d leave us alone. Maybe—”
“No!” Red Flint cried out, ripping loose from Singing Wolf’s arms and taking a step, only to crumple to the ground crying out as he reached for the White Hide. “It’s not for Enemy hands. It’s for the clans … the clans alone!”
“I say kill them.” Eagle Cries had backed away, Crow Foot and the rest doing the same. The Others dropped into a defensive circle around Ice Fire, Dancing Fox pointedly outside their ring.
“Stop this!” she cried, stepping forward, arms uplifted.
“Our oath ends here,” Eagle Cries reminded, a hard set to his lips. “We’ve brought them safely without raising weapons. But now they’re here. My oath is dead!”
Mutters of agreement followed, darts clicking as eager fingers nocked them.
“Others.” Raven Hunter sneered. “Brought to a camp of the People.” He raised his fist over his head, shouting, “Kill them!”
Arms arched back, ready to cast their darts; the Others gripped their weapons for release. Raven Hunter laughed hysterically as he danced from foot to foot, the Power of the White Hide hazing the images of carnage in his mind.
“Wait!” Dancing Fox cried, hands up, standing between the sides. “Wait.”
“Die!” Raven Hunter roared.
“He is here?” Wolf Dreamer asked softly as the hurried steps crunched on the snow.
One Who Cries lifted the black flap of the sweat lodge Wolf Dreamer had built of bowed willows and covered with hides. A white gout of steam rolled out.
“He’s here,” he assented. “You’d better come quick. Broken
Branch sent me for you. She says there’s going to be trouble. You’ve got to come.”
Wolf Dreamer cocked his head, seeing the worried patterns of One Who Cries’ soul; yellow, red, and orange, they wove together through the man. The bitter taste of the mushrooms coursed in his veins as he watched in fascination.
“It doesn’t matter,” he pronounced seriously. “Raven Hunter’s trouble will pass.”
One Who Cries reeled back, stunned, the colors changing in his soul. “Of course it matters! What of pain and hurt now? What of the People suffering? Curse you, Wolf Dreamer, don’t you remember? You were one of us! You’re our Dreamer! You’ve got responsibility. We need you!”
“Tell me why you need?”
One Who Cries gasped frustration. He shook his head suddenly. “Are you so far from us? We’re here because of the Dream. For all I know, we are the Dream! We—”
“Yes, now you see.”
“And—and if that’s so, you’ve got to come Dream it all right again!”
“Illusion has no right.”
One Who Cries stifled an anxious cry. Futilely, he beat his fist into the ground. “Look, I can’t argue with you. I just want to hunt in peace, huh? That … that’s my Dream. You must come drive Raven Hunter—”
“Then you should Dream for yourself. Hunt within the illusion to find—”
“Hunt within … Great Mammoth!” One Who Cries exploded. “Can’t you understand we need your Power!”
“You don’t need me.”
“Yes, we do! Raven Hunter’s coming with some sort of Power … some White Hide. You have to go and—”
“It won’t matter in the end.”
One Who Cries sputtered and stopped, a dot of blue growing in his soul. Fascinated, Wolf Dreamer watched the blue expand, seeing One Who Cries’ desperation become all-encompassing.
Through a strangled voice, One Who Cries choked, “For the spirals maybe. I don’t know.” And he was gone, steps pounding away across the snow.
“For the spirals,” Wolf Dreamer repeated, seeing inside
the illusion, feeling Wolf’s call. “The spirals of the web. Yes …”
He smiled into the blackness, gazing gratefully at the remaining withered black mushrooms resting on the hide in the corner. He got to his feet, walking as if he were a mist. Around him, he could see the colorful souls of the animals, of the trees, each reflecting their own existence in this realm.
Time slipped and bent around him, making each step a journey into a different world, like looking through sections of swirled ice. Images bled into each other, forms shifting, lines bubbling out of shape. Before him, the People stood like a wall of blue-green color. Fear there, anxiety, anger, it all mixed in splashes of vivid colors like the Monster Children battling in the sky, or sunlight through a haze of mist, breaking into bars of colors.
He wove around them, his soul touching theirs, feeling the straining anxiety. Color everywhere, even the fire rose red and yellow from the glowing bed of coals. Two groups separated, the Spirit Power they’d breathed into their darts clinging to the keen stone points. Their souls twisted in red-orange anger and greenish violet fear. Here were souls about to be severed from the body and they couldn’t stand it.
There stood Raven Hunter, a weird black swirl lit by a red yellow within, streaked by the spring green of pleasure and ambition. Muscles moved along the warrior’s arms, poised to release their darts.
“If you cast against each other, you’ll break the spiral,” he said softly, projecting his voice to their very souls. “We can’t do that and survive.”
They froze in their places, turning to stare at him. A white shimmering of curiosity softened their images, all uneasy except for anxious Dancing Fox and the man. The …
Wolf Dreamer stopped dead in his tracks.
“So,” he greeted, noting the shimmering white fox hides on his shoulder. “We meet, you and I. I offer greetings, Father.”
The man nodded, a Power within him, his soul tight and controlled, balanced between spirit and body. “Wolf Dreamer.”
“Kill them!” Raven Hunter bellowed from the side. “I am the future of the People. Here lies destruction! Death at the
hands of the Others! I have the Power of the White Hide. I’m born of Father Sun! Come to lead—”
“You’re born of me,” the man said, tone leaving no doubt.
Wolf Dreamer smiled, cocking his head to watch the whirls of white light dance in his father’s chest.
“Why did you lie to me?” Raven Hunter insisted.
“To save you.” Ice Fire sighed. “I let the White Hide pass judgment on you. You did what you did to yourself. Your soul is—”
“Powerful!” Raven Hunter hissed.
“Your soul is a darkness, brother,” Wolf Dreamer said sadly. “You’re not whole, Raven Hunter. You have no sharing of the soul.”
“Shut up! What do you know of souls, of Dreams? I’ve seen, seen the future, me and Dancing Fox. My child taking the People south into—”
“You’ve seen no future of yours,” Wolf Dreamer murmured. “You saw only a glimpse of your father’s.”
Ice Fire frowned, staring. “Mine? What—”
“No, it was mine!” Raven Hunter insisted, slamming a fist into the White Hide.
The Other warriors mumbled in fear and rage, easing forward on cat feet.
Wolf Dreamer bowed his head and watched the flames dance for what seemed an eternity. His thoughts drifted away, images of Heron’s visions floating through his mind. Sights, sounds, rising mounds of dirt along a winding muddy river. Rock-walled shelters rising five stories high, the corners of the rooms sharp against the sky. Long shelters, built of bark, all centered around tended fields of long-eared grass, its yellow kernels spilling life upon the mats of the Peoples.
Hunters came, long-limbed men, bearing darts as they stalked the buffalo. As the plains dried, women slapped desert plants, knocking the seeds into woven containers. A long thin creature crawled on its belly, fangs in its head, tail hissing in a buzz. Far to the south, men built mountains of stone while Father Sun descended to earth, plumed in feathers and scales.
“It can be saved.” Ice Fire’s voice penetrated the Dream. “Saved … saved … saved …”
Wolf Dreamer nodded. “Yes. That which has been sundered must become One again.”
“Let me help you,” Ice Fire offered, striding slowly closer to Wolf Dreamer.
In a shimmering fog, he saw him stop. Wolf Dreamer gently reached out a hand and touched his father’s chest, the place the white light flowed from. It warmed him, sending tendrils of harmony rushing through him. Before he realized what had happened, Ice Fire had enfolded him in strong arms and hugged him tightly to his breast.
“My son, you’ve done well for the People.”
Wolf Dreamer’s gazed at Dancing Fox. She stood rigidly, though her eyes lay warm on Ice Fire. He widened his eyes, seeing the tiny dot of white light growing in her belly.
“A son … for a son,” Wolf Dreamer breathed, “now I understand, Heron.”