People of the Earth (66 page)

 
          
 
Left Hand rubbed his thumb back and forth on
the wooden handle of his
atlatl
. If I follow them, do
I follow Power? Or silly animals? He shook his head. What has Power brought the
Wolf People this day? He cursed as he pivoted on his heel, following Trouble's
patch of white back toward the east.

 
          
 
The dog led happily, tail wagging, darting
ahead and then returning, as if to urge him to greater speed. Blackness
slipping through the shadows was the only indication of the wolf's presence in
the clinging darkness. Left Hand panted as he trotted along. His feet tangled
in forest litter and he stumbled over roots; branches reached out of the night
to lash him.

 
          
 
Stupid! Why didn't you keep going ? What did
you get your-self— Trouble had come to a stop, head up, ears pricked.

 
          
 
The black wolf stood poised, as if waiting, at
the edge of another of the patchwork of clearings that dotted the forest. This
one, like most, consisted of a narrow, sage-filled meadow cleared by a long-ago
fire. Left Hand barely realized when the distant Singing stopped. The Sun
People went ominously quiet, and then shouting broke out from the direction of
the camp.

 
          
 
Left Hand knelt next to Trouble and ran his
fingers through the dog's thick, warm
fiir
. An uneasy
presence hung in the air. Power filled the night. His soul huddled in on
itself.

 
          
 
A faint sound caused Left Hand to cock his
head. What? A stick snapping in the night? He strained his ears: only the faint
shouts from the direction of the camp.

 
          
 
A muffled grunt and thump—as if a body had
fallen in the darkness—the soft mutter of barely audible voices, and two people
burst into the clearing. In a flash, the black wolf leaped to the side, diving
soundlessly into the thick, black timber. But Trouble shot forward, running out
to meet the two.

 
          
 
"Trouble? Is that you?" The man
dropped to his knees, clutching the wiggling dog. "Look, it's Trouble.
He's back!"

 
          
 
"Bless the Power. But come on," the
woman insisted. "We'll be happy later." A pause. "Which
way?"

 
          
 
Bad Belly stood. "I don't know. The Sun
People are back that way. The moon is over there, so that's east. There ought
to be a trail ... but where?"

 
          
 
Left Hand hesitated a moment, then called
softly, "Bad Belly? It's Left Hand. This way." Bad Belly had already
started forward, the woman following uneasily.

 
          
 
"Left Hand?" Bad Belly asked
quietly. "Where are you?"

 
          
 
"Here, there's a trail." He stepped
into the faint moonlight and Bad Belly hugged him fiercely, blurting, "You
wouldn't believe everything that's happened. First, Trouble got lost during the
night. I went to find him and got lost myself in the Sideways—"

 
          
 
"Not now, Bad Belly," the woman said
nervously.

 
          
 
"Good idea," Left Hand agreed.
"I know the trails, and maybe I can hide you, or send you in the right
direction. After that, you're on your own."

 
          
 
"You're not coming with us?" Bad
Belly asked.

 
          
 
"I have to go back for the Wolf Bundle,
Bad Belly. The Sun People—"

           
 
"I've got it," Bad Belly crowed.
"It's safe. You see, I had this Dream—"

 
          
 
"Can we talk later?" the woman
interrupted. "Brave Man is going to have warriors crawling all over this
mountain looking for us. Wolf man," she strained the words as she said
them, "if you know a way out of here, a way back to Singing Stones—"

 
          
 
"Follow me." Left Hand led them out
into the clearing and started off to the southwest. Bad Belly has the Wolf
Bundle? And when I would have missed them, a huge black wolf led me right to
Bad Belly—and to the Wolf Bundle. But at what cost? What's happening? What's
gone wrong with Power?

 
          
 
"I don't know about you, Bad Belly,"
Left Hand growled. "You're tied up in so much Power it makes me
shiver."

 
          
 
Father of Waters, flows so rich, trickles
water into the ditch. Grow a plant, so tall and green, fruit is yellow. I have
seen. Feathers colored, the dead are laid. Log across and dirt is made. Lazy
sloth, in baskets carried— sun man and woman high are married.

 
          
 
The old woman's voice crooned through the
Dream.

 
          
 
From soaring wings, White Ash looked down,
seeing people on the green bank of a large river. Where the channel wound
around in ox-bows, trees had been cleared and patches of land grew slender
plants; people walked between them, plucking the less-desired weeds. She could
see men farther back in the forest, working with hafted, ground-stone axes.
They chipped the bark from living trees—ringing them to kill them. Then they
burned the dead wood so that the ashes enriched the black soil.

 
          
 
Power filled the fields, glowing around the
tall plants, whose long leaves danced in the breeze. Life pulsed among the
stalks and in the ripening yellow fruit they bore.

 
          
 
In the background, a mound of earth rose
against the sky. At the top of the mound, a log structure stood. The walls had
been covered with bark, and a thatched roof climbed to a peak. An open doorway
faced south, and there a man wearing a feathered mask raised his hands to the
sun as he Sang the praises of First Man and the Sun and the pale-haired plant.

 
          
 
"Tell Left Hand," the voice of
Thunderbird cracked the air, ' "that he must lead the Wolf People to the
east. The way will be difficult. The Buffalo People will war with them, and
many will die in the Short Grass Plains. The Wolf People must follow the
Elk River
to the Father- Water. There they must war
with the Masked Dancers and establish a new way. There they must continue the
Dream and renew the Masked Dancers. "

 
          
 
"I will tell him." She spread her
arms as if to fly herself. "He will want the Wolf Bundle."

 
          
 
"The Wolf Bundle Dreams the truth to Left
Hand, but he is a Trader. In his heart, he will know what he must do. He doesn't
Dream with your Power. His Power is different. Tell him to follow the rivers to
the east. Tell him that one day a Dreamer will arise who can seek the Wolf
Bundle and return it to the Father Water and the Blood of First Man. But first
his People must prove their worth. ''

 
          
 
"I will tell him." She soared in
rapture, feeling the tug of the One filling the golden mist surrounding her.

 
          
 
Clouds appeared below, obscuring the land.
With a flick of feather, Thunderbird dove into the puffy mass. White Ash tucked
her knees to her chest. Floating and drifting, she dropped into the grayness,
the edges of the One pulling at her, insistent, overpowering.

 
          
 
White Ash blinked and stirred, coming out of
the muzzy Dream. Feathers of the One brushed at the fringes of her soul.

           
 
For safety, they had chosen to sleep by day
and travel at night, when Broken Stones scouts couldn't spy from high points.
As White Ash stretched, the sun began to slip below the ragged skyline of the
Red
Rock
Mountains
far across the purple-shadowed
Gray
Deer
Basin
. A deep, translucent indigo filled the
eastern sky. She stared at the vista while filaments of the Dream wove through
her thoughts.

 
          
 
They had camped in a secluded hollow, screened
on all but the west side by spring-green aspen. The white sheen of the bark
caught the last rays of the sun. She pulled back the robe and made a quick
check for ticks before pulling on her clothing. With an awl and sinew she'd
made makeshift repairs to the shirt.

 
          
 
Bad Belly yawned and squinted sourly. The
expression didn't do his homely face any favor. White Ash studied him with
wonder. He'd changed. She could feel it deep inside herself. The instant his
hands had touched the Sacred Bundle, a new strength, a presence, had been
breathed into his soul.

 
          
 
Left Hand lay on a pile of grass, breathing
unevenly while tortured sounds came from his throat. Then he started and jerked
awake, staring around in fright for a moment before he exhaled and sat up.
Beads of sweat glistened on his weathered face before he dropped his head into
his hands.

 
          
 
"What's wrong?" Bad Belly asked.

 
          
 
White Ash shook her head wearily. "The
Dream."

 
          
 
"You mean Dreams," Left Hand rasped
hoarsely. "Terrible Dreams. I saw people fleeing. Walking through a
parched land. Trees. I saw trees . . . and black dirt . . . and a huge,
swirling river." He looked up then, expression haunted. "And I felt
part of my soul go cold, as if something wonderful had been taken." He
blinked and shook his head. "Horrible . . . loss ..."

 
          
 
"What Dream?" Bad Belly asked White
Ash, taking her hand. "Tell us."

 
          
 
She looked warily at the Wolf man. "I
rose in the clouds, carried by Thunderbird. We soared on the winds and traveled
far to the east. There's a big river there. The land is green, filled with
trees. You are to take the Wolf People there."

           
 
Left Hand squinted. 'Take the Wolf People
there? You mean, away from here . . . from our home?"

 
          
 
She nodded soberly. "The Power has
changed here."

 
          
 
He rubbed his hands, shaking his shoulders as
if to rid himself of an unpleasant burden. "I can almost believe you. I
can't stop this empty feeling. And the images—"

 
          
 
“Of death and war and a yellow-haired plant?"
White Ash surmised.

 
          
 
He paled. "How ..."

 
          
 
She shook her head, gaze locked with his.
"Power gives everyone a choice, Trader. You will be the next leader of the
Wolf People. Will you lead them to death at the hands of the Sun People? Or
will you follow the Dream?"