People of the Wolf (20 page)

of caribou hides. "Here," she said, dropping them on the snowy ground. "I got more inside that you can use to make a shelter. While you do that, I'll put on some moss tea and get out some meat for dinner."

A tremor of relief went through the People. Hurriedly, they joined hands to make hasty lodges. Hours later, Heron returned and surveyed the shelters approvingly.

"Come and sit down now," the old woman instructed. "We've got things to talk about."

Gratefully the People gathered around the edges of the deep pool to drench in the warm mist. Heron had built a fire in front of her rock shelter and the flames licked upward, casting long shadows over the surrounding boulders and flickering amber across the greenish pool. She passed out sacks of meat and told people to help themselves to the bags of hot moss tea.

When everyone had settled down to eat contentedly, the Spirit Woman declared, "I can feed you all for a couple of weeks on what I've stored. But after that ..."

Singing Wolf nodded, cupping a horn full of thick black tea. "How much game is here?"

Heron lifted a thin shoulder. "Enough. A small herd of caribou winters out in the basin down by the river. The wind sweeps it clean. They can get willow there, dig for moss and grass. Seems like every year more grass grows. Lot of changes since I came here . . . let's see . . . Well, no matter—back when Broken Branch there was still young enough to steal my man."

Broken Branch stiffened, stopping in midchew to narrow her eyes.

"As far as hunting goes," One Who Cries said, clearing his throat, "we can build a drive line. Green Water and Sunshine can work the wings, the extension of the lines, with the children between cairns to keep the animals moving. With Singing Wolf, Jumping Hare, and me, there are three men to run down the—"

"Four," Heron added, jerking her head toward Runs In Light, who sat silent, head down.

People grumbled among themselves. Now that their bellies were full, they'd started complaining again, calling Runs In Light a false Dreamer.

Heron lifted a brow, spitting, "You fools. He's seen more than you'll ever understand."

An awkward silence descended, the flames lighting tense

faces.

"Grandmother." Runs In Light spoke. "Don't worry. I-"

"Hush, boy. You and I aren't done yet." She turned and looked at him, heedless of his embarrassment. "Don't know what you are yet, eh? Keep that attitude and you might never know."

"Wolf Dream," Broken Branch muttered, her eyes bright again.

Heron turned, head cocked. "You saw it?"

"It was in his eyes."

Heron nodded. "Much has changed since I've been gone? No Dreamers?"

Broken Branch waved miserably. "Crow Caller had it once. I think he killed it. Dreamed sour . . . like maggot-filled meat. These young ones, they've never seen a real Dreamer before. You need to come back, Heron. The People need you. There's no heart. No fire. The old ways, the true ways', they've gone like smoke in Wind Woman's breath."

Heron turned, pointing.
"He's the future."

Wolf Dreamer shook his head in the silence. Ashen, he got to his feet and vanished into the night beyond.

After the long pause, Broken Branch shook her head. "I don't know. His spirit left him." She sighed. "It's no longer in his eyes."

"You're wrong." Heron grinned. "As usual."

Singing Wolf cleared his throat. "He's young. Like his brother, Raven Hunter, said, he's susceptible to delusions."

"Raven Hunter?"
Heron whirled, a thin finger jabbing at Singing Wolf like a dart. "You'd listen to
him!"
Her eyes narrowed wickedly. "What's happened to you? Has that maggot-mouthed Crow Caller broken all of your Dreaming?
Curse you all. There is no life without Dreaming!''
'

Singing Wolf's chin stuck out as he mumbled, "Runs In Light nearly Dreamed us to death."

"Idiots." Heron shook her head. "Do you think you're all just eating machines? Huh? That your only purpose here is to eat and make babies to do it all over again after you're

gone? Curse you! No wonder the People are dying!
You have to Dream to LIVE!"

"Yes!" Broken Branch cried, clasping her hands together. "See?" She pointed at Heron. "There's Power! There's a Dreamer! Hear how she speaks? Hear the Power? Ha-heeee! Wolf brought us here. Wolf Dream!"

"What of the boy, Wolf Dreamer?" Heron crossed her arms, eyes on Singing Wolf where he looked away, shame creeping up his face.

"He's feeling guilty." Broken Branch waved it away. "We lost one little girl, though the rest of us are here."

Heron fingered her chin. "Did Crow Caller tell you Dreams came easy? Did he?"

No one ventured an answer, but their crimped faces told her what she wanted to know. "Well, they don't. Dreams don't come without pain . . . yes, and even death. Remember that."

She shook herself, gray-shot hair spilling loose about her shoulders. "You, Singing Wolf?"

He looked at her with wary indignation in his eyes. "What?"

"You think you're a hunter?"

"I'm the best—"

"No, you're not. I'm going to take you on a real hunt.
A Dream Hunt.
I'll
call
the caribou. I know the place. A drive line is already there. They hear me and listen. They'll help the People if I ask."

Singing Wolf glanced around uncomfortably. "You mean we're not going to go stalk them? To drive—"

"No. I'm going to go Dream them in. Don't disturb me." She turned and talked out into the growing darkness, following Wolf Dreamer's path.

Singing Wolf chewed his lip, confusion on his face. He raised his eyes to Broken Branch as she waddled past, heading out into the dark.

She stopped to scowl at him. "Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?"

He dropped his eyes.

Runs In Light heard the soft tread. He bit back the frustration. "I'm not the one."

"No?" Heron's voice carried a subtle power.

"No."

A hand rested on his shoulder. "Tell me again of what you saw."

"I ... I passed through a hole in the ice with Wolf. We climbed rocks. There on the other side, a green valley opened as far as the eye could see. Caribou, elk, moose, mammoth, all kinds of animals were there. Then I had the Dream with the man. The Other
you
call my father."

"I knew you'd be a powerful Dreamer the first hour of your life."

He shook his head, doubt twisting his gut. "I'm no Dreamer.''

The edge of hostility in her voice caught him by surprise. "You won't be if you keep that up. I guarantee that," she spat over her shoulder.

Runs In Light sighed with relief as her steps receded.

After a few moments of silence, Broken Branch's voice came from the darkness to his side. "What did she tell you?"

He blinked to make out her dark silhouette. "That I'm a Dreamer."

"Hardly news."

He shook his head. "I don't understand all this. That, and the man in my Dream."

"Man?"

He nodded. "Heron says Seal Paw wasn't my father."

"What else does she say?"

He heard the stiffness in her voice, felt the growing tension. He bit his lip. Tell her?

"That my mother was raped. That I was born first and lay in a shaft of light. That Raven Hunter was born next. That he came out covered with blood. That it ran into his mouth as he was placed beside me. That a raven feather floated down and he grasped it."

"Hah-heeee," she gasped, placing a hand to her mouth. "Yes. Yes, I was there. I bit your cord in two myself. Where . . . where did your mother ..."

"On the beach, beside the salt water. Heron says she was collecting mussels."

Broken Branch slowly settled on a rock, eyes focused on the moon rising over the western horizon; it gilded the drift-

ing clouds with silver. "Yes, I heard the rumors." She looked up. "A Dreaming. And she saw you?"

Runs In Light nodded heavily. "Says I looked into her eyes."

"Hah-heeee, I knew it. Wolf Dreamer. Even then you were ... different."

He got up and paced angrily. "I don't want to be different! I want to be a hunter! That's all!"

"What else did she tell you? About the People?"

"That we would be killed by the Others ... or taken in among them. Soaked up like blood in fox fur."

Broken Branch covered her head. "You would turn from your people?"

"I'm not the one!"
He struggled to keep his voice down. "I went the wrong way! Crow Caller was right."

"We're not dead yet," Broken Branch mumbled to herself. She looked up. "If not you . . . then who?"

He looked up at the geyser, hearing its roar, seeing the water flying high, sparkling white in the moonlight. "I don't know!" he shouted plaintively, squeezing his head between his hands. "I don't—"

"There's no one else."

"How do you know?"

"Who could it be?"

"I don't know! If the Other in my Dreams is my father, then maybe this Dreaming is in our blood!"

"What does that—"

"Maybe the savior is Raven Hunter!"

Broken Branch sat deathly still, eyes squinted in thought.

The caribou came, a black line out of the gray. From where he waited, Runs In Light watched, awed. Just like the old stories, they walked deliberately into the wide-spread wings of the drive line.

To his right, Heron sat in a blind, chanting and singing. To his left, Singing Wolf looked uneasily at the caribou coming steadily toward them. Then his eyes shifted to Heron's blind, awed.

A strange warmth built in Runs In Light's chest, a feeling of rightness—of Power. On the wings of the drive line, the women crouched, their darts nocked in the hooks of their atlatls. A total silence descended, broken only by the haunting chant from Heron's blind.

Heart racing, Runs In Light watched the animals; ever closer they came, breath puffing up from their black noses, white beards waving, flanks gray against the snow. So many?'

"Only kill thirty," Heron had warned, the glow of the Dream bright in her eyes. "That's what I've promised. Only thirty. Be quick, be merciful. They must not suffer."

"Only thirty," he whispered under his breath.

The lead cow was even with him now. She pulled up, head high, two streams of breath blowing from her nose before she stepped lightly forward, cocking her head at him.

Runs In Light picked up the chant, adding his admiration of her stately beauty, how he would sing her soul to the Blessed Star People.

"You will live through me," he promised. "Your life is our life. Share with us, brothers and sisters of the stars." A warm feeling spread in his breast as she stepped closer, one hoof held in the air, waiting.

In that moment, their eyes met and a soft harmony possessed him, as if his soul drifted to touch hers. He reveled in it, a unity with all life, a weaving, dancing wholeness.

Awed, his heart bursting with love, he explained his need. "Please, Mother. The People need you. Hear our cries? I'm sorry to have to ask."

She stepped forward again, the Power of the Dreaming reaching her. He heard the snow crunch under her splay-toed feet, the huge hooves sinking down until the dewclaws locked in the ice. With her, he breathed the uneasy air. Her concern became his. They moved forward into the killing pen— together—the old cow turning sideways.

Gripped by the Power flowing through his veins, Runs In Light stood, rock steady, every nerve humming. He cast, seeing the dart sink deeply into the cow's side, feeling the point angling forward into her vitals. She stood as he nocked his second dart and pivoted, throwing with all his might, sending the dart home in the side of a young bull. The bone patches left by recently shed antlers gleamed white against the black of his fur.

The cow dropped to her knees, frothy blood at her mouth. Runs In Light continued to sing, soul-sharing the pain with the caribou. Tears filled his eyes, streaking his tanned cheeks. Vaguely, he could sense Singing Wolf on his feet, casting his darts. From the sides, the women ran forward, sending their darts true as the caribou milled. Green Water's arm whipped forward, burying a dart in a bull's shoulder. Laughing Sunshine rushed, her weight impelling the stone head of her lance into a young cow. Another and another went down.