People of the Earth (54 page)

 
          
 
He chuckled under his breath. "Could I do
any less? He died very conveniently. And he looked so healthy yesterday."

 
          
 
The smooth lines of her face betrayed irony.
"He did, didn't he?'

 
          
 
Brave Man ground his teeth as he maneuvered
his stiff leg through the lodge flap. He ducked inside and hobbled to the
sleeping robes. She followed and stood before him, arms crossed, a knowing look
on her face. "So, you are now the Soul Flier. What comes next?"

 
          
 
He stared at the smoke hole, where blue sky
grew brighter. "The Wolf People. Flying Hawk is already eager to prove
himself the greatest warrior among the Broken Stones. It will take three days
to prepare, and then we'll go."

 
          
 
"I'm going with you."

 
          
 
He smiled. "Everyone is going. The
hunting's good up there. Warriors fight better when they know their families
are close. Courage flows stronger in a man's veins when losing could mean that
his woman will be taken by an enemy warrior, or his children killed."

 
          
 
She cocked her head. "You are better than
I had imagined you would be. I like that. I like you." Her hips swayed as
she moved. The dress clung tightly to the curves of her body.

           
 
"It will take time before they have Sun
Feathers ready. Let's see how much you've taught me, Pale Raven."

 
          
 
.With a satisfied smile, she pulled the soft
dress over her head. He slipped out of his shirt as her swift fingers undid his
leggings. The light filtering through the smoke hole seemed to caress the lines
of her body as she settled next to him on the soft robes.

 
          
 
She reached down to grip his stiffening
manhood. "Continue at this rate and you'll plant a child in me."

 
          
 
He rolled her breast in the palm of his hand.
"Would that bother you?"

 
          
 
She shifted, her other hand tracing the
muscles of his chest. A bolt of desire shot through him. "Not at all. You
know what that will mean to the people—they'll consider me your wife."

 
          
 
His eyes lifted, glowing darkly. "I will
have White Ash."

 
          
 
Her throaty laughter and the dancing light in
her eyes goaded his desire further. "Go ahead. I don't care, Brave Man.
You can have her. Plant all the children you'd like in her. But among the
people, I'll still be your first wife." Her finger traced around his
testicles and he shivered. "Unless you'd like to stop this." From
half-lidded eyes, she watched him. "Or can you?"

 
          
 
"No," he admitted as he rolled on
top of her and looked down into her eyes. She undulated beneath him, teasing
his tense body. "And you?" he whispered, voice husky. "Could you
stop?"

 
          
 
She ran her hands down his back, tracing his
spine until she could grip his buttocks. "No. You are all I ever wanted in
a man. I'll do everything I can to keep you."

 
          
 
"Even kill?"

 
          
 
She spread her legs, reaching down to guide
him. "Such a tragedy to lose Sun Feathers that way."

 
          
 
He smiled humorlessly. "And not a mark on
him. You and I will do very well together, Pale Raven. Very well."

           
 
“Now what do we do?" Blue Wind whispered.
He used the sleeve of his hunting coat to wipe his broad-boned face.

 
          
 
"We die," Snail Shell murmured. “I
never thought I'd see so many warriors in one place."

 
          
 
Wind Runner rubbed his hot face and sagged
down in the sagebrush. He stared up at the night sky, where the stars twinkled
brightly. They hid in the valley bottom, deep in the sage that grew as tall as
a man's chest. On either side the slopes rose steeply to sandstone-capped ridge
tops. Before them lay a small spring Snail Shell had known about. The problem
was that others had known about it, too. A large party of Hollow Flute warriors
camped at the spring-squarely on the shortest route south to the Black Point
camp— and time was running out.

 
          
 
Wind Runner shifted, peering through the sage
to study the camp. In the confines of the narrow valley, Wind Runner couldn't
see any way to sneak past the enemy. Climbing the sheer-walled ridges in the
middle of the night would take too long—and could be the makings of a disaster.

 
          
 
Think, Wind Runner. And you d better make the
right decision or a lot of people will end up dead.

 
          
 
This camp had to be the Hollow Flutes'
vanguard— perhaps the first of ten tens of warriors heading south. These
warriors would sweep the country and ensure the safety of their women,
children, and elders, who traveled a day's journey behind. The warriors that
Wind Runner and his friends had outwitted earlier had only been scouts for one
of the three villages they'd discovered during the day. But how many more
hadn’t they seen? The whole country to the north seemed to be crawling with
women and children leading pack dogs and bearing their belongings south.

 
          
 
Wind Runner's expression turned grim.
Everything he'd learned this day struck a painful chord in his soul. He'd seen
such a movement of people before—lived it, in fact,—when the White Clay had
fled from the
Bug
River
, and later from the Fat Beaver River. The
Hollow Flute reminded him of fugitives.

 
          
 
"How did we ever come so far north
without being discovered?" Snail Shell wondered. "How come we're
still alive?"

 
          
 
"Thunderbird's been playing games with
us, old friend." Blue Wind gave a muffled snort. "And maybe he still
plays with us . . . because we're walking barefoot through a Hollow Flute
snake's den!"

 
          
 
Wind Runner chewed the inside of his cheeks.
No more than a half-day's walk to the south, Black Moon's band camped on the
river. Stone Fist and Fire Rabbit had moved smaller camps out to the West in
order to hunt along the river bottoms. Spread out like that, the Black Point
would have no chance against the wave of Hollow Flute rolling south like a herd
of buffalo.

 
          
 
"What's happening?" Blue Wind
whispered. "Where did they all come from? How can the Black Point defeat
so many?"

 
          
 
"We can't," Wind Runner hissed back.
"No more than the White Clay could stand against the Black Point."

 
          
 
"I'm starting to believe," Snail
Shell agreed. "But what choice is there? We have to fight—to hold our
land."

 
          
 
Wind Runner's expression soured. The cooking
fires burned brighter in the Hollow Flute camp—as if to mock them. "There
are other lands."

 
          
 
"Where? In the
Gray
Deer
Basin
, where the Wolf People hunted you like a
lame rabbit?" Blue Wind huffed disgust.

 
          
 
"South of there—where the White Clay
fled." Wind Runner licked his lips. "All we have to do is get to the
Sideways
Mountains
and cross them. Then we can carve out our
own territory. Drive out the Earth People. Let the Hollow Flute try to hold the
Fat Beaver hunting grounds against the Snow Bird and Wasp clans."

 
          
 
"Looks like the Hollow Flute People have
already been beaten up." Snail Shell sighed and made a small gesture with
his hand. "I've been thinking about the bands we saw moving south today.
They looked half-starved. Some of the men walking with the women appeared to be
wounded."

 
          
 
"Meanwhile"—Blue Wind motioned
toward the camp— "how are we going to get around this? Backtrack? Maybe cut
around to the west and cross those badlands up by the high cliffs?"

 
          
 
"We'll lose two days that way,"
Snail Shell protested. "I say we go east—around this ridge and south where
the sandstone dips down toward the river. It'll be a long run, but we might
make it in time to warn at least one of the camps."

 
          
 
"No." Wind Runner shook his head,
remembering that day on the Fat Beaver. I can't let that happen again. I just
can’t! He watched two warriors, talking and laughing, walk out of the camp and
into the sagebrush to relieve themselves. They were still joking as they made
their way back to camp and squatted by a fire.

 
          
 
Wind Runner cocked his head. "I think I'm
getting an idea. You know, it just might work." Impossible! But then . . .

 
          
 
"Why do I hate the thought of Wind Runner
getting an idea?" Blue Wind's face contorted into a pained expression.

 
          
 
"Because you know it's going to be
something so silly and dangerous it'll work," Snail Shell growled. Turning
to Wind Runner, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

 
          
 
The stars had drifted halfway across the sky
when Wind Runner, Blue Wind, and Snail Shell walked boldly into the middle of
the Hollow Flute camp. Warriors didn't travel with dogs. Had they, this stunt
wouldn't have lasted long enough for a winded man to take three short breaths.

 
          
 
"Relax," he'd told his companions
earlier. "Think of it like this: it's our land, right? Who has more right
to walk around on it than we do?"

 
          
 
Snail Shell had groaned. "Ten tens of
Hollow Flute warriors and all their darts, that's who!"

 
          
 
Why didn't I let them talk me out of it? Wind
Runner's blood tingled as it shot through his veins. His mouth had gone
fear-dry and his skin crawled with fright. Someone will look up and recognize
us. Any second now, there will be a warning shout . . . and we y re dead men.
He nerved himself and picked his way around the glowing fire hearths, sticking
to the darkness.

 
          
 
Black lumps of robe-wrapped warriors lay
feet-first to the fires. Some snored, others breathed deeply. Wind Runner stopped
short as a sleeping warrior shifted to get comfortable. In the process, the
Hollow Flute warrior exposed his hand to the light of the smoldering fire.

 
          
 
Wind Runner hesitated, aware of the sudden
tension in Blue Wind, who'd stopped behind him. He took a step toward the
sleeping warrior and bent down to study the man's hand. The last joint of the
little finger had been severed—an offering to Power and the promise to fulfill
a vow, even at the price of death.