People - People of the Wolf Part 58

"Stop it! Stop it!" Dancing Fox screamed from somewhere far away.

Wolf Dreamer lay still, conscious of his body's struggle for life, feeling his brother's fingers go tighter, hearing Wolf call him again.

"Come .. . Come ..."

His soul shivered, longing to follow.

Raven Hunter's scream rippled like a physical thing as it tore through the People, changing the colors of their souls. He leapt up, releasing Wolf Dreamer and standing menacingly over him. "Get up!" he shouted.

"Get up and fight!"

Wolf Dreamer gasped for air, lying weakly for a moment before stumbling to his feet. His throat rasped as he drew air into his lungs. A blinding flash caught him as Raven Hunter kicked him in the belly. Wolf Dreamer sat down hard, a warm rush spreading below his heart.

For a moment, he retreated into the nothingness beyond the Dance. With a curious detachment, he looked back at his suffering body. Raven Hunter had kicked him again, flopping his empty flesh sideways to heave and retch on the trampled snow.

Raven Hunter laughed, the black green of his soul sparkling as he bent down and settled his knee on Wolf Dreamer's throat. His body twitched, and Raven Hunter looked up at Dancing Fox, cackling his victory.

From the side, a bent shape scuttled out of the darkness. The soul shifted between red, green, and blue. A sparkling lance of orange-white pain shot up from one of the old woman's arms. Despite the agony it caused her, she crabbed forward, keeping to the shadows behind Raven Hunter as he bellowed victory to the People.

Wolf Dreamer shifted to look back at Wolf. The beast had trotted closer.

He stood so close now, Wolf Dreamer could feel his warm breath on his face. Do I have to go back? Is there a reason to leave the peace, the silence of the One? I don't want to go back. Not even for the brief moment it will take to bring this to a close.

Wolf only stared, yellow eyes glimmering with the firelight.

Wolf Dreamer Danced back into his body as Broken Branch reached from the shadows. Despite the blinding pain from his crushed throat, despite his burning lungs, he felt the cool polished wood as the old woman thrust it in his grasping hand. The lingering essence of One Who Cries seeped from the worked wood of the fore shaft caressing his fevered skin.

Resolution. He lanced the stone-tipped dart up, following the vibrance of Raven Hunter's hard soul to the center of his brother's Dance.

Raven Hunter stiffened as Wolf Dreamer drove the dart deeply into hisside. He knew--with the hunter's skill--where the tender organs of life were most vulnerable.

Somewhere in the shadows, Broken Branch cackled happily.

Raven Hunter whirled slowly in the light of the fire, mouth open, moving soundlessly as he stared around at the People. From the wound, blood coursed down his side and leg, dripping onto the snow in bright scarlet spots.

He blundered through the fire pit, traces of flame eating up the sides of his long boots. He shrieked loudly as the coals burned through the holes in his boot soles. Howling in agony and fear, Raven Hunter bolted into the night.

In the silence, the People watched, their souls wavering in a panoply of light.

The world spinning, Wolf Dreamer turned to his father. "Once you looked into the night sky and saw the Spider among the stars. And now his web has begun to spiral. A son .. . for a son."

"Come ..." Wolf's haunting voice called, and he felt a familiar velvet nose nudge his hand.

He looked down and held the beast's eyes for a moment. Then Wolf turned and trotted to the edge of the trees, waiting.

He followed on rubbery legs, staggering toward the darkness, the mushrooms whispering with antic.i.p.ation.

"Wait," One Who Cries called, coming along behind. "Where are you going?"

Wolf Dreamer reached out a trembling hand, touching One Who Cries, feeling his warm soul. "Where you can't come, old friend. To a place Wolf calls me."

"Wolf?" One Who Cries stood, a lost look on his face as he shook his head, but he stayed, watching as Wolf Dreamer faded into the dark trees.

From the shadows behind him, Broken Branch's ancient voice whispered, "Wolf Dream!"

The camp had been placed on the edge of the timber. There, a shoulder of the hills provided protection from the north winds, while from the heights, the People could see for a day's march or more over the sprawling gra.s.slands to the south. On the gentle slopes below the camp, thick fall gra.s.ses waved in the wind. Far to the south, a range fire sent a gray brown plume of smoke to the cloud-puffed sky. A large herd of buffalo splotched the rolling lands to the east while several mammoth grouped together under the watchful eye of an old cow in the lush drainage below. Another of the marvelous new animals--the p.r.o.nghorn--ghosted fleetly across the gra.s.slands, following in the wake of the buffalo.

One Who Cries shifted and shot a look over his shoulder at the sienna-colored lodge. "You'd think it wouldn't take so long."

Singing Wolf lifted a shoulder. "It always takes so long." Practicedfingers whittled away at the dart fore shaft he crafted so carefully.

"Can't figure. You make the best fore shafts They have to be fit just right. A little bend and poof! The dart doesn't work. Can't understand how come I can't make them like that."

"Same reason I can't make a point like yours."

"Binding's still too thick." One Who Cries frowned pensively at the point he pulled from his pouch.

They sat silently for a while, One Who Cries running his eyes over the colorful chert, Singing Wolf shaving long slivers of wood from the fore shaft "Moon Water still mad at Jumping Hare?"

"Does the sun come up in the east?"

"What are they doing together? You'd think he'd kick her out. That woman's nothing but trouble."

"She could be trouble in my robes anytime." Singing Wolf chuckled. "You saw what happened. What's she going to do? Go back to Red Flint's lodge?

After Jumping Hare came in and offered a stack of robes as tall as a man for her? Not only that, but Red Flint got three of our darts from him!

No, she's not leaving. Besides, those twin kids of hers are still his."

One Who Cries sucked in his cheeks and chewed them. "And to think we used to war with White Tusk Clan?" He looked absently out to the south.

"You think Wolf Dreamer knew it would be like this?"

"Yes."

Ice Fire came to squat next to them. "I think he saw it all--and more."

"You look nervous," Singing Wolf pointed out. "Don't be. I've been through it five times now. It's always the same."

Ice Fire smiled too quickly as he rubbed his palms back and forth. "Five times? For me .. . this is a first."

"Green Water will take good care of her. Not only that, Broken Branch is in there. No bad spirit will fool with Broken Branch. White Hide goes to Tiger Belly Clan again?"

"You've seen any Enemy here we could earn it from?" Ice Fire pulled his white-shot hair back. "No, I think Tiger Belly will have the White Hide for a long time now."

"Water's still rising. After a while, they'll have to find honor somewhere else."

Ice Fire laughed. "They'll think of something."

One Who Cries turned the point and shook his head. "Too much binding."

Ice Fire c.o.c.ked his head, trying to take his thoughts off the activities in the lodge behind him. "How about driving two flakes off from the base forward? You know, like grooves."One Who Cries studied the base of the point. A skeptical look on his weather-beaten face, he pulled his sandstone from his pouch and between grinding and some initial flaking, prepared two special platforms.

"Here goes." His tongue crept out the side of his mouth as he frowned in concentration. Like lightning, he tapped the baton across the platform, a long thinning flake snapping out of the point base.

Ice Fire beamed as One Who Cries turned the colorful stone over. He eyed the point again and grinned, driving the second flake from the other side.

"Hey!" Singing Wolf exploded. "Now, cut that out! Every time I sit down you're--"

"Oh, hush! "Cut it out ... Cut it out." That's all I ever hear from you.

Every time I start doing a little flint knapping, you're howling about the flakes being all over! When was the last time you got stuck with one of my--"

"How about the point?" Ice Fire asked from the side.

One Who Cries sheepishly mumbled, "Oh, yeah."

He lifted it. The length of a man's hand, it gleamed in the sun, flake scars rippling to catch the light. It was made from red-banded caramel-colored chert, its parallel sides ending in a keen point. The base was concave below the new flake scar. One Who Cries turned it over.

"It worked," One Who Cries said breathlessly. "Look!" He grabbed the fore shaft from Singing Wolf's hand, fitting the fluted point into the binding. "That's it!"

Ice Fire and Singing Wolf leaned close, sighs of admiration escaping their lips.

"You know," Ice Fire mused. "That's almost too pretty to throw into an animal."

One Who Cries glowed.

Behind them, the voices of the women grew louder. Ice Fire stiffened.

Even Singing Wolf--old veteran that he was-c.o.c.ked his head, eyes tense.

The squall of the child carried shrill in the still air.

Moments later, Broken Branch hobbled out of the tent, beaming a toothless smile through her wrinkles. "A boy." She chuckled. "Ha-heeee!

As if the Dreamer hadn't known!"

A curious feeling swelled in Ice Fire's chest. "A son for a son. Yes ..." For a moment, he twisted his hands nervously in his lap, thinking about Wolf Dreamer. They'd searched for him that night after the fight, but had found no traces--not even tracks marred the snow.

But the wolves had howled triumphantly for days.

"And my wife? How's Dancing Fox?""Oh, fine. Just fine."

Broken Branch hobbled in front of Ice Fire, heading to the fire glowing a few feet away. She held the baby up to Father Sun, then pa.s.sed him through the cleansing smoke of the fire four times.

"Listen, boy," Broken Branch ordered softly. "I'm going to tell you the greatest story of the People. You have to remember it so you can tell your sons and daughters and their sons and daughters. You're the center of the web, little one. Your brother, Wolf Dreamer, said so and he was the greatest Dreamer the People ever had. He knew. He knew .. .

"See? Do you?" Broken Branch lifted a withered arm and pointed out across the lush valley bursting with game. "Look there: Built a big mountain of dirt.

Raised on sweat and hurt.

Rose so high over the river. Eating plants.

Bah! No spirit in that. Not like blood-filled liver.

Father of Waters, flows so rich ..."

Singing Wolf laughed softly, waggling a finger at Ice Fire. "See. I told you it would go all right. Dancing Fox is too tough to ...

OUCH!".

"What's wrong now?" One Who Cries wondered, staring at his point.

"What's this?" Singing Wolf held out his hand. A red banded yellow chert flake to match the one driven from One Who Cries' point stuck deeply into the meaty part of his palm.

Ice Fire started to laugh but a faint soft mewing came from the bundle in Broken Branch's arms and a strange feeling came over him. His chest tingled with hollowness.

He shook himself, but the feeling wouldn't let him go. Crossing his arms, he hugged himself tightly. His eyes were drawn to the valley in the distance. Thick green gra.s.ses waved beneath the gentle caress of Wind Woman. Mammoth lifted his s.h.a.ggy head, startled suddenly, as though he too saw the silvered shadow that bounded through the gra.s.s, bushy tail catching the glittering gold of dawn as it ran to touch noses with musk ox and caribou, mouse and buffalo.

Almost like a whisper in his mind, Ice Fire heard a beautiful voice say: "This is the land of the People ... I show you the way, man ... I show you the way ..."

kathleen o'neal gear is former state historian and archaeologist for Wyoming, Kansas, and Nebraska for the U.S. Department of the Interior.

She has twice received the federal government's Special Achievement Award for "outstanding management" of our nation's cultural heritage.

W. michael gear, who holds a master's degree in anthropology, has worked as a professional archaeologist since 1974. He is currently princ.i.p.al investigator for Wind River Archaeological Consultants.The Gears, whose other books include the best selling First North Americans series, as well as The Visitant and The Summoning (.iod of the Anasasi Mysteries live in Thermopolis, Wyoming.