People of the Earth (25 page)

 
          
 
Badger crossed his arms over his chest.
"I don't like the idea of eating seeds and plants."

 
          
 
Old Falcon, the Soul Flier, raised an arm from
his tightly bundled robes and shook his finger. "But you Trade for those
root cakes every chance you get!"

 
          
 
Badger gestured helplessly. "Well, you
have to Trade with Traders. That's the Power. I don't want to offend Power,
that's all."

 
          
 
"And wasn't it you who told me how sweet
those root cakes were?" Old Falcon grinned. "I think you could give
up a little buffalo meat for those cakes—especially when it means eating them
without fear that a Broken Stone's dart will land in your back."

 
          
 
"That remains to be seen." Brave Man
looked around the circle. "We haven't exactly found a pleasant greeting as
we move farther south. I killed four of the last warriors who would try the
might of the White Clay. What about these Earth People? You think they'll just
let us camp and hunt in their lands? My Power warns against this."

           
 
People shifted uncertainly. No one knew what
to think about Brave Man's Power. Old Falcon sighed.

 
          
 
"Listen to me," Brave Man called out
persuasively. "If we go farther south, I don't know what will happen.
Instead, come with me. Let me take you back to the Fat Beaver. I know a way
that we can live up there where the herds are plentiful. Follow me and I will
keep you safe."

 
          
 
Shocked silence was broken only by the sounds
of the night breeze rustling sage beyond the camp and the crackle of the
council fire. One by one, people turned to Whistling Hare and Flying Squirrel.

 
          
 
Whistling Hare drew himself up to full height.
"And where would you lead us, Brave Man? What would you do
differently?"

 
          
 
Brave Man smiled so confidently that his teeth
gleamed in the red light of the fire. "I will take us back north. I will
denounce the White Clay . . . Wait! Hear me out. / will denounce the White
Clay. Me, alone. When I do, I will challenge the war leader of the Broken
Stones. When I defeat their best warrior, I will make a place for the White
Clay among the Broken Stones."

 
          
 
White Ash gaped, as stunned as the rest of
them, trying to believe what her ears had heard.

 
          
 
"Think about it!" Brave Man gestured
passionately. "I can make a place among the Broken Stones for all of us. I
can save all of us! Do you understand? I, Brave Man, can keep all of you alive!
We won't have to go south. We won't have to run anymore."

 
          
 
Bobcat grunted into the smothering silence.
"My ancestors have been White Clay since the beginning of the world. I
cannot turn my back on them." The grizzled hunter glanced around.
"Perhaps I could eat roots and collect plants, but my children, and their
children after them, will be White Clay."

 
          
 
Brave Man shook .his head in disgust.
"And if there are no more children? What then? What if we, here, in this
circle, are the last of the White Clay?"

 
          
 
"Then we are the last of the White
Clay," Bobcat said quietly. "That is all I have to say. I'll go south
before I have anything to do with Broken Stones." He finished with the
hand sign for "no more."

 
          
 
"I hear my friend Bobcat." Badger's
face might have been a mask. "I, too, will die as the last White
Clay."

 
          
 
“You’re being foolish." Brave Man reached
out as if to embrace the hunters. "The Power speaks in my mind. Follow me!
The voices tell me the way. As a clan, we can't keep on this way. We'll be
blown away like grains of sand on a strong wind."

 
          
 
Whistling Hare shook his head slowly.
"Myself, I can't go to the Broken Stones. I don't know about Brave Man's
Power. What I do know is that we are White Clay. Any who want to go to the
Broken Stones with Brave Man may do so. That is our way. It might not be so
bad. Among the Sun People, many have changed clans. If any of you would do so,
go with my best wishes. For myself, I can't."

 
          
 
People nodded, looking back and forth to seek
reassurance in one another's eyes.

 
          
 
White Ash glanced at Wind Runner where he sat
listening, a torn look on his face. Torn? Why? Surely he couldn't be taking
Brave Man seriously? Not after the rift that had deepened between them.

 
          
 
"I have to speak for myself and Sage
Ghost," White Ash said. "We will go where Whistling Hare
decides."

 
          
 
The old leader gave her a secret smile,
pleased.

 
          
 
Flying Squirrel quickly added, "I think
we should pack at first light and head south for the
Sideways
Mountains
. No good will come of staying on this side.
Maybe the Creator, the Sun, or Thunderbird, will see to it that we don't meet
any war parties until we're south of the mountains. No one will think to look
for us there."

 
          
 
"Except the Earth People," Brave Man
reminded them. A rising tension filled his voice. "Listen to me. I'm your
only hope."

 
          
 
Old Falcon cleared his throat. "I don't
know what to think of your Power, Brave Man. I think you have a different sort
of Power, maybe stronger than anyone else's, and maybe not. You escaped from
the Camp of the Dead, and I understand the Power of that, my own soul having
flown to the Land of the Dead on occasion. But men must hear the voices of
Power and then make their own decisions. My soul says that I should go south. I
don't know why we've been pushed so. Power uses people in different ways for
its own purposes." His gentle gaze shifted to White Ash. "Power has
given us hints in the past that our way is south."

 
          
 
"You believe that, old man. It'll be your
death!" Brave Man glared at the Soul Flier.

 
          
 
White Ash tensed. People around the fire sat
straighter, grim lines forming around their mouths. No one used that tone with
a Soul Flier—especially with one of Old Falcon's reputation. Those sitting
closest to Brave Man shifted, trying to distance themselves.

 
          
 
Oblivious, Brave Man continued to stare at Old
Falcon through narrowed eyes.

 
          
 
"I think we will pack up camp at first
light tomorrow and go south as fast as we can," Flying Squirrel muttered
in a voice just loud enough to be heard.

 
          
 
Whistling Hare nodded, uneasy eyes on Brave
Man. "I will go south with the morning light. Those who wish may follow
me."

 
          
 
One by one they stood and returned to their
lodges, anxious whispers muted by the night.

 
          
 
White Ash rose and started back toward her
lodge. She glanced around at the shadowy sage with uneasy eyes. She could feel
the trouble hanging in the night, watching and waiting to leap. Brave Man had
lost his mind to challenge Old Falcon in such a way!

 
          
 
She glanced back just before she ducked into
Sage Ghost's lodge. Only Brave Man and Old Falcon remained seated by the fire,
their eyes locked on one another.

 
          
 
"You take a coyote's paw, now. When you
let it sit out for a while and all the hide and tendons and muscles rot away,
you'll see that it's a lot like a human hand."

 
          
 
"But the bones have to be
different," Left Hand protested.

           
 
They were headed north, following a narrow
valley through the Round Rock Mountains. To either side, gray humps of
weathered granite rose in cracked and sundered domes against the blue sky. A
drainage traced through the bottoms, the sandy soil thick with greasewood,
rabbitbrush
, and sage. Clumps of
ricegrass
,
giant wild rye, and wheatgrass stood in yellow-tan shocks along the way. The
land smelled of spring. Here and there, green, spindly leaves poked up through
last year's grass clumps. Two eagles whirled in circles overhead, dipping and
turning as they rode the thermals.

 
          
 
"Well, they are different," Bad
Belly agreed. "The bones are smaller and thinner. But you take each bone
of the human hand and you can find one like it in a coyote's paw. You can see
similarities."

 
          
 
Left Hand sighed and looked defeated.
"All right, so maybe animals do have the same insides as humans do. The
Wise One Above made people after he made animals. So what?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly scratched between his shoulder
blades and gestured. "I think it's curious is all. I mean, why didn't the
Wise One Above make some animals . . . well, without teeth or something? You
know, just to be different."

 
          
 
Left Hand chuckled to himself. "No wonder
you drove Larkspur crazy."

 
          
 
Bad Belly frowned. "If I'm starting to
bother you, let me know and I'll be quiet."

 
          
 
Left Hand shook his head. "No. I'm enjoying
it. You're a different sort of person. You've got a fresh way of looking at the
world. I've missed being with anyone as easygoing as you are.

 
          
 
Bad Belly sighed, a giddy sensation in his
breast like flapping butterfly wings. "I feel years younger. I didn't know
it would be like this."

 
          
 
"How do you mean?"

 
          
 
"I guess I'm happy . . . and scared at
the same time."

 
          
 
Left Hand walked easily, his Trader's staff
held high. "Why did you ask to come? I thought you wouldn't. I thought you
wouldn't have the courage,"

 
          
 
Bad Belly stroked his withered hand. Can I
tell him? Would Warm Fire think it was all right? "I promised my friend I
would leave. He ... he told me—Oh, nothing. It was between us." Bad Belly
looked up at the crystal sky. "If it kills me, Left Hand, I had to leave.
I gave a promise to my only friend. A promise ..."

 
          
 
"And you think you'll follow this journey
to wherever it ends?" Left Hand studied him from the corner of his eye.
"You could die, you know. Meet an accident, fall, maybe startle a silver
bear."