People of the Fire (44 page)

 
          
 
Hungry Bull boosted Three Toes as high up the
tree as he could to tie off the end of the snare. Together they hung the loop
just so, at the right angle to catch an elk's head.

 
          
 
Finished with their handiwork, Three Toes
slapped the snow from his mittens and chewed at his lip. "So that's an elk
snare? And I did it all on my own?"

 
          
 
"You trapped sheep, too. And knocked pine
nuts out of trees."

 
          
 
"And liked them," Three Toes agreed.
"Yes, I suppose I could get to like this life. But it's a little lonely. I
miss hearing the old tales." He frowned. "Maybe we should have
brought Little Dancer. He could have made a sign or something that draws elk
better than urine."

 
          
 
Hungry Bull shrugged. He started to turn and
froze, reaching to pat his friend on the shoulder. Three Toes turned and
stopped short.

 
          
 
The wolf stood in the shadows of the trees,
eyes burning curiously yellow, as if lit from a fire inside.

 
          
 
"Big, isn't he?"

 
          
 
"Yeah," Three Toes breathed.

 
          
 
For long moments they watched; then, as if by
magic, the wolf disappeared.

 
          
 
Three Toes blinked and rubbed his eyes.
"I didn't even see him move."

 
          
 
"Me either." A shiver went up Hungry
Bull's back. "Did you notice the . . . Oh, never mind. Must be the
light."

 
          
 
"You mean the way he looked just like the
wolf drawn on the rock in the shelter?"

           
 
Hungry Bull nodded, staring at the place where
the wolf had stood. "Just like the wolf in the shelter. Just like that
..."

 
          
 
"The buffalo are worried!" the Wolf
Bundle cried. "You can feel it. Confusion, frustration, starvation,
they're half mad. One by one, they die. A species facing oblivion spreads
terror through the Spiral. They know their time
hasn
V come. But what can they do? The soul of the land cries out. Feel death? Feel
it drawing close, choking the warmth from the earth? Is this our future? Feel
the fawn antelope in their need? Thirst. The land cries. What can we do? I’m
tortured . . . dying with the land. Thirst, heat, what can we offer them?"

 
          
 
Wolf Dreamer's weary voice settled in an
evening frost. "Hope."

 
          
 
"You look worried, girl."

 
          
 
Elk Charm met her mother's eyes before gazing
back down the valley. The slopes now had a faint green tinge that had begun to
challenge last year's brown. Sagebrush gleamed bluish green against the tan of
the sandstone. Overhead, the crystal sky stretched into a blue infinity that
threatened spring.

 
          
 
"I was thinking of something Two Smokes
told me . . . about Dreamers."

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves sighed and settled herself in
the warm sun next to her daughter. "I've caught you looking into
nothingness more than once. You sneak those faraway looks whenever you think no
one is watching. Want to tell me about it?"

 
          
 
"I always thought it would be Snaps Horn.
Then I met Little Dancer. I love him with a feeling like a fire's inside me. I
never knew I could love a man this way. He's so . . . well, he's gentle, always
thinking of me, and he holds me like I'm the most precious thing in his
world."

 
          
 
"I've seen."

 
          
 
"But he frightens me. There's part of him
I can't share. Something that's beyond me."

 
          
 
"And Two Smokes? You said he told you
something about Little Dancer?"

 
          
 
Elk Charm shook her head, lip clamped in her
lower teeth. "He told me once about how Power uses people . . . like
humans use tools for a single purpose, and then discard them. He talked about a
dart as an example, how it was so carefully crafted and finally cast at an
animal. You know ^what happens to darts. Sometimes they miss and land in the
rocks. When that happens, the point shatters, the shaft cracks. All that work
for nothing. Sometimes they get lost in the snow or thick grass, forgotten.
Left behind to rot away." The image lived inside her, haunting, painful.

 
          
 
"And you think the Power's that strong in
Little Dancer?"

 
          
 
She filled her lungs, enjoying the sensation
of air rushing through her throat, holding it to savor the full feeling.
"Yes, Mother. I think he's more Powerful than he knows. The day at the
mountain sheep trap was only a hint. I've watched trappings before. You know as
well as I that they were about to bolt the wrong way. He Dreamed them in.

 
          
 
"Since that day, I've watched Two Smokes.
He sits in the back of the shelter, not saying much, but his eyes are always on
Little Dancer. Not only that, but when Little Dancer has Dreams late at night,
he'll wake up, and stare at the spiral on the back wall of the shelter—or at
the wolf. And when he has those Dreams, I wake up. So does Two Smokes, even
though he sleeps across the shelter. I don't think Little Dancer notices, but
TWo
Smokes is watching him, staring through
slitted
eyes.

 
          
 
"I asked him about that. He smiled
funny—as if his heart were tearing—and told me that a
berdache
can feel Power, that they live in the halfway place between the worlds."
Elk Charm lifted her shoulder. "And he won't tell me more. He just places
his hand on my shoulder, like a reassuring brother, and walks off."

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves put her arm around her
daughter's shoulders. "Yes, I suppose Little Dancer does have Power. But
as far as I'm concerned, he can take care of himself. It's my daughter I'm
worried about. What do you think? Is he worth the trouble? Will you be all
right?"

 
          
 
Elk Charm looked up into those warm eyes.
"I. . .1 think so. He's going to be a great man, Mother. I can feel it.
Maybe as great as First Man was when he brought the People up from the
First World
to this one."

 
          
 
"But the legends tell us that First Man
avoided women." Rattling Hooves lifted an eyebrow as a reminder.

 
          
 
Elk Charm settled her vision on the distance
where the ridges rose against the skyline one after another until dun earth and
tan rock met cerulean sky. "And if he's called, I guess I've had my
warning." She cocked her head. "I can prepare for that day. And when
it happens, I'll have had what time with him that I've had, won't I? I mean, if
you could have known what would happen to Father—you'd only have so much time—what
would you have done? Turned away from his robes?"

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves studied her pensively. "I
didn't know that we'd begun raising adults at so young an age. When I was your
age, just out of the menstrual lodge, I was interested in men, trying them all,
learning what coupling was about. My concern was to make as many of my friends
as jealous as I could. I tried to marry the most handsome man available. And
here you are, worrying about only one and what he'll do to your life. Most
girls your age are too wrapped up in themselves to think that far ahead."

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves paused, a frown lining her
features. "Or is it that you've only had one man? Maybe it's a lack of experience?
Hmm? Could that be it? You've thrown all of yourself into Little Dancer when
he's the only man around who can—"

 
          
 
"No." She shook her head stubbornly.
"I've thought about that. I've thought about all the things Tanager and
Cricket and I promised ourselves we'd do. Sometimes, I lie awake at night and
watch the firelight on the rock overhead and try to think what man I'd rather
have. I don't just mean in our band—but among all the Red Hand. Snaps Horn had
always been the one I dreamed of. But compared to the fire of Little Dancer,
Snaps Horn is a mild ember. I still like him, and maybe if Little Dancer left
I'd still go to him. But Little Dancer's different.''

 
          
 
"They all are," her mother reminded
wryly.

 
          
 
"I mean it. He's . . . well, so kind. He's
been hurt. Tell me, when you look into his eyes, what do you see?"

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves shifted uncomfortably. She
considered for a moment, the gentle lines of her face thoughtful. "Yes, I
know what you mean. I see the same thing in his father's eyes. But I can trust
Hungry Bull. He wouldn't hurt me. He's mature, a man who knows himself and
where he'll be tomorrow, or next year. He has that sense of identification with
others . . . that what was done to him can't be inflicted on anyone else. I've
known men who'd do that, turn their pain on someone else. Blood Bear would.
He'd make another pay for what was done to him by life."

 
          
 
"Little Dancer wouldn't do that. He
wouldn't hurt me."

 
          
 
"Not knowingly." Rattling Hooves
shifted, taking up Elk Charm's hands; her serene eyes probed her daughter's.
"What I wonder is, what he'll do if the Power asks?"

 
          
 
Swallowing hard, Elk Charm lifted her
shoulders, enjoying the warmth of her mother's hands. "I don't think he
knows himself. I've asked, and he says he's not the one. He repeats that over
and over."

 
          
 
"Like he's trying to convince
himself?"

 
          
 
Elk Charm's heart tripped. "Blood and
dung, I hope not!" Yet she knew she'd made up her mind. She'd savor every
moment with him, keep each of his smiles as her own. And if the Power proved
stronger than she? Well, that rocky and forbidding ridge would have to be
scaled when the time came. Pray to the Wise One that she could do it.

 
          
 
"You know"—Rattling Hooves paused,
trying to pick her words—"the others are beginning to worry. When Little
Dancer Dreams at night, and makes the noises, it wakes the children. Makes Fun
and Meadowlark are getting nervous."

 
          
 
"They're living in a new land, learning
new things. We're all cramped up in that little shelter and the winter seems
like it will never end."

 
          
 
"Sure, we're all tired of each other. But
part of the eon-
stant
tension is caused by Little
Dancer." Rattling Hooves pulled her knee up. "I've done a little
talking to Two Smokes myself. He's no fool; he can feel things coming to trouble."

 
          
 
Elk Charm's gut twisted.

 
          
 
"Ah, yes, you know, don't you, daughter?
You can feel it, too."

 
          
 
"What . . . what did Two Smokes
say?"

 
          
 
Rattling Hooves lifted her chin slightly,
tightening her grip. "Listen to me, Elk Charm, and remember that I'd never
hurt you. Do you know that? That you're my most precious—"

 
          
 
"Yes, I know."

 
          
 
"And you know that I'd only tell you what
I honestly thought was the best for you. That you don't need to do anything you
don't want to and I can only advise."

 
          
 
Elk Charm nodded, a misery spreading.

 
          
 
"Two Smokes thinks that Little Dancer
needs to go see White Calf. Wait! Hear me out first. Two Smokes thinks White
Calf can help Little Dancer find his way, now that the Power's changed between
them. That if Little Dancer keeps fighting it within himself, he'll tear his
soul in half. When that time comes, you'll have to let him go."

 
          
 
Elk Charm swallowed against the numbness.

 
          
 
"Will you think about it?"

 
          
 
She nodded, a cry stifled on her lips.

 
          
 
Blood Bear lay on his back tugging at one long
braid with a callused hand. The other hand batted a willow switch against the
scuffed hide of the Wolf Bundle. Face pinched, he scowled at the talisman of
his people. What did it all mean? The lodge around him pressed down, stifling,
boring. This winter, he'd chafed, waiting for spring and the long summer light.

 
          
 
The Wolf Bundle rested on its tripod holder,
dominating the lodge just as it dominated the thoughts of the Red Hand. Blood
Bear frowned. The Bundle had changed, it looked different, dingy, and, yes, the
kid had been right . . . cold.

 
          
 
Since that day when he'd left White Calf's
camp, he'd wondered about the boy's words, and about his attachment to the
talisman. White Calf had known something, perceived something he couldn't quite
grasp. And that made her prophecy frightening. The moment that foolish Short
Buffalo youth had come close to the Wolf Bundle, an electric feeling had
charged the air. Since he'd been sitting almost on a direct line between them,
he'd felt it for the first time—a prickling sensation like the one a person
felt just before lightning struck the ridge top a couple of dart casts away.

 
          
 
In addition to everything else, Rattling
Hooves had been championed by the Short Buffalo hunter. What was his name? Hungry
Bull? The man had dared him, dared him to combat over the woman! And she'd
accepted it. That affront needed to be paid back. But then, his own heart had
raced when Rattling Hooves had stood at the end of his dart and looked him in
the eyes. She'd been magnificent, face proud, thick black hair wild in the
wind. What a woman, unconquered, bursting with spirit to save her foolish
little daughter from meeting womanhood on Blood Bear's hard penis.

 
          
 
So the daughter had been virgin tight? What
did that mean against the spirit and pride in the mother's eyes? Any man could
tame a wide-eyed young girl to his needs, but what about Rattling Hooves? He
smiled at the Wolf Bundle. That challenge could prove worthy of his attention.
To bend such a woman to his will would provide a great deal of satisfaction.