People of the Earth (90 page)

 
          
 
Wind Runner lunged to his feet, ducked under
the low flap of his lodge and ran out into the graying morning light.
Aspen
rolled from their robes and pulled her
dress over her head before following him. Here and there, men poked heads out
of their lodges, looking around.

 
          
 
The camp seemed peaceful. Tendrils of smoke
rose from the fire pits. Birds greeted the dawn with song in the sage. The
rounded mounds of Greasewood camp's earthen lodges huddled against the morning.
The air carried the cool taint of sage and
rabbitbrush
,
as well as the land's sweet scent.

 
          
 
Cottontail came running into camp, a hand to
her breast, a stricken look on her face.

 
          
 
Wind Runner called out, "What is
it?"

 
          
 
He grabbed her by the shoulders as she ran up
to him; he could feel her panicked trembling.

 
          
 
"Hot Fat," she whispered. "Out
there ... in the sagebrush. Dead."

 
          
 
"What?"
Aspen
reached for the woman, disbelief etched on
her delicate face.

 
          
 
Wind Runner shot a worried glance at
Aspen
and ordered, "Show me."

 
          
 
Cottontail shivered and shook her head.

 
          
 
"Cottontail?"
Aspen
took her by the hand. "Come on. I'll
be with you. He's my grandfather. Maybe he's just Soul Flying. Maybe ..."

 
          
 
People had begun to cluster around, worried
whispers going back and forth.

 
          
 
Aspen
and Cottontail walked back into the sage, Wind
Runner to one side. He could see
Aspen
's pale face. His own heart had gone heavy
in his breast. Hot Fat? Dead? He shook his head in disbelief.

 
          
 
Cottontail stopped, taking a deep breath and
stiffening.

 
          
 
Hot Fat lay facedown on the soft, sandy ground
at the base of the flat-topped butte that sheltered the camp. Sagebrush rose
knee-high all around him, its silver-green contrasting sharply with the Soul
Flier's golden-brown clothing.

 
          
 
Aspen
made a deep-throated sound, and Wind Runner
hugged her to him. Her shoulders shook. Cottontail's frightened eyes mirrored
the panic that swept the murmuring crowd.

 
          
 
People closed around them to stare at the
body. Wind Runner patted Aspen on the back, then broke free in order to bend
down and inspect Hot Fat's body. The top of the old man's head had been bashed
an.

 
          
 
Wind Runner fought down the urge to scream his
pain to the heavens. This lump of lifeless flesh had first offered the warm
hand of friendship, and it had grown to be into something precious between them.
Another warm love had been torn away from his soul—like sagebrush twisted from
dry ground. I'd come to love you, old friend. And now you, too, are gone.

 
          
 
Hot Fat's breechclout was undone, as if he'd
squatted to relieve himself. Wind Runner turned, seeing only scuffled
tracks—obliterated by the people clustering around them. He searched the
ground. On the other side of the sagebrush he found two smudges on the hard
soil—as if a man had stood on tiptoes to smash the blow down.

 
          
 
"Who would have done this?"
Aspen
asked, her voice strained.

 
          
 
"Blue Wind! Cut for tracks. Quickly,
before we trample them all." Wind Runner pointed. "The rest of you,
don't move another step until we scout."

 
          
 
Blue Wind jerked a nod and slipped out of the
crowd.

 
          
 
Wind Runner struggled to keep the grief at bay
and think. "Did anyone hear anything? See anything?"

 
          
 
People looked back and forth uneasily and
shook their heads.

 
          
 
"We have many enemies," Black Moon
reminded as he stepped forward and bent down. Sadness glistened in his eyes.
"Maybe we missed one of the Earth People's warriors. Maybe it was one of
the captive women."

 
          
 
Wind Runner sucked in a breath. "He ate
with us last night. It must have happened sometime after that."

           
 
Aspen knelt, struggling against tears. Heedless
of the blood, she gently cradled her grandfather's head on her lap.

 
          
 
Wind Runner bent down and fingered the
coagulated pool of dark scarlet on the sand. Then he touched the old man's
flesh—stone cold.

 
          
 
"Whoever it was is long gone. But that
doesn't mean he won't come back. For the time being, we hunt the night— and
guard ourselves better."

 
          
 
"To kill a Soul Flier?" Cottontail
shook her head. "I hope whoever did this is ready to meet Thunderbird. Hot
Fat's soul will return for him."

 
          
 
Angry mutters broke out among the people.

 
          
 
Wind Runner thought back to the day that he'd
faced One Man ... the day Hot Fat had spoken for him. How many nights since
then had he and the old Soul Flier talked, and laughed, and shared their souls?

 
          
 
He stood up and waved a hand harshly.
"Snail Shell, take some men and spread out. Double the lookouts on the
hills."

 
          
 
Still Water shielded his eyes, staring down
into the flats. Even from here he could see the lazy spirals of smoke rising
from Greasewood camp—more smoke than Nightshade's clan would make. He glanced
up at the flat-topped butte that threw a long shadow over the camp. Layers of
white dirt separated by sandstone gleamed in the morning light, while sage and
rabbitbrush
speckled the slopes on the logical place for
lookouts. And if that were the case . . .

 
          
 
Unease gnawed in his heart.

 
          
 
"This way," he said to White Ash,
pointing at a sage-dotted conical hill just before them. The low mound appeared
to be capped by white clay and scattered
chert
cobbles.

 
          
 
"And then what?" White Ash asked,
hurrying behind him. Trouble followed.

 
          
 
"Dream," Still Water told her.
"Dream the animals. You must."

 
          
 
"Why?"

           
 
"Those aren't Earth People. We're going
to have to make them think we have more Power than it seems."

 
          
 
Panting, they reached the top of the hill and
looked down over the flat. Still Water saw several figures headed their way at
a trot.

 
          
 
"Dream, White Ash! Dream like you've
never Dreamed before!"

 
          
 
White Ash dropped to the sand, placing her
hands in her lap. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

 
          
 
Still Water lowered himself beside her and
broke into a chant. He narrowed his concentration, seeking to ignore the fear
that pumped with each beat of his heart.

 
          
 
His pack ate into his shoulders, growing heavier.
He shook his head and chanted louder.

 
          
 
Perspiration shone on White Ash's forehead.
The warriors could be seen clearly now, trotting up the sage-thick slope toward
them. How much longer did he and White Ash have?

 
          
 
"Wolf Dreamer?" White Ash whispered,
struggling against the desperation of their situation. "Help me. I need to
call the animals."

 
          
 
The weight of Still Water's pack pulled
viciously on his shoulders. If I don't ignore it, a dart is going to get me. He
cleared his mind, chanting evenly, forcing his voice to stay calm.

 
          
 
The weight of the pack seemed to grow even . .
. Then it occurred to him: The Wolf Bundle!

 
          
 
He shrugged out of the pack and undid the
laces with frantic fingers. He grasped the Bundle and a lightning burst of
Power shot up his arm. The very air seemed to prickle, and White Ash steadied,
some of the desperation draining from her taut face.

 
          
 
Below, the warriors pointed at them and
shouted.

 
          
 
Still Water knew when White Ash touched the
One. The Wolf Bundle surged with a Power so violent, he almost dropped it. He
could sense the Bundle's threads of Power snaking out toward White Ash.

 
          
 
A black wolf wove a sinuous path through the
pale green stands of sagebrush. It peered at White Ash with gleaming yellow
eyes—as though waiting. An eagle cried in the sky.

           
 
Still Water's heart leaped when the wolf
padded to stand between him and White Ash, so close he could feel the animal's
whiskers brushing his hide pants. A meadowlark landed on top of Still Water's
head and trilled into the air. A badger eased out of the brush, grumbling
softly. The One pulsed.

 
          
 
Still Water's soul leaped in ecstasy.

 
          
 
The warriors stopped several dart lengths
away, observing in stunned disbelief.

 
          
 
Call to them. The command settled in Still
Water's soul.

 
          
 
"White Ash?" he said hurriedly.
"Tell them we come in peace."

 
          
 
One of the warriors balanced a dart for
casting.

 
          
 
"White Ash! I don't speak their
language!"