People of the Fire(135)

"Come, stand over the fire. That's it. Just as you saw me."

"You're White Calf—the witch?"

"And who calls me a witch? Ah, Blood Bear, of course. Poor fool."

“Why should I stand over your fife?"

"Because this is a turning of the Spiral." She pointed to the rock. "And because this might be a turning of the People." White Calf gestured at her own sagging flesh. "Just before you arrived, I stood in the heat, bathed by the steam of the sage, and wondered about life, about all that I'd been and done."

She took the reluctant woman and led her, placing her just so over the fire pit, casting wet sage into the flames, the cloud of steam rising in a billowing column.

"I'd stared at the Spiral, thinking of all that it symbolizes about life coming full circle, and how one thing leads to another, attached yet separate." She chewed her lip, seeing the young woman close her eyes as the warm steam bathed her.

"You see, where you stand now, so once did I stand. As you have the blood of another who wronged you on your hand, so did I. Perhaps it's the way of the Spiral, hmm? I mean that we can't understand the bounty of life until its frailty and suffering is proved to us."

The young woman had opened her eyes, staring at the Spiral. "I'm not a witch." And it came to her: beginning and end.

"Neither am I," White Calf added with a sigh. Yes, that's what had caused her to awaken. Transition. "No, you're now the mother of the People, although you don't understand that yet. It's curious, I came here with Six Teeth, to stand and cleanse myself like that. Only I came bearing a chokecherry digging stick."

"And what did you do with your digging stick, old woman?"

White Calf chuckled. "It's over there, against the wall. From that moment on, it became a walking stick."

"War darts won't become a walking stick—even if I were gullible enough to believe you."

"No, I suppose not. But Power chooses for its needs. When Power called me, it wanted the Dream. With you, well, the darts speak for themselves." White Calf stared up into hot eyes, meeting them, feeling her Power mingling with that of this indomitable woman. "A Dreamer is coming, Tanager."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things. Listen to me. A Dreamer is coming. He's coming to make peace between the People and the

Red Hand. I can't see it all; I don't have the Power I wish I did. I never did have, you see. Oh, never mind, I'm talking about myself again. But the Red Hand are yours. I can't tell you what to do with them, but they'll listen to you. You, in turn, must listen to the Dreamer."

I’m not sure for the moment that I want to listen to any man. Not after—"

“He's not just any man." White Calf worked her old hands over the woman's chilled skin, avoiding the abrasions, seeking to restore circulation and warmth. “You wouldn't have made it this far without drawing on something deep inside yourself, some strength that runs in your very blood."

White Calf caught the gleam in the woman's eyes, the slight quiver of her lips. “Perhaps."

“Perhaps, nothing. This is an age for strength. That doesn't mean it's an age for stupidity—despite what Blood Bear would have anyone believe."

“He's a great warrior."

“He's a fool!"

“Oh? I've seen him kill. I've seen the bodies of the dead that he's-"

“He's driven the Wolf Bundle to abandon the Red Hand! Why do you think we're falling apart? Why do you think the trouble has come upon us? Why do you think you were raped out there? Why do the People prowl the lands of the Red Hand? Why are the Spirals changing?"

Hot black eyes flashed. “What are you talking about? The Wolf Bundle goes everywhere Blood Bear goes."

“And how does it look, hmm? Tell me, Tanager. What kind of look is in Blood Bear's eyes these days? One of a man at ease with himself? Or a man driven to a desperation he doesn't understand?"

She frowned, wincing as it stung some hurt. "He spends most of his time rubbing his little finger and looking worried. But that's because the Short Buffalo People are—"

“It's because he's about to die."

Tanager turned to glare. "The warrior hasn't been born who can drive a dart into Blood Bear!"

“The warrior's been born," White Calf admitted wearily. “That warrior just doesn't know it yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just stand there. Let me warm some water and wash these cuts. These bite marks on your breasts worry me the most. If they get full of pus, you'll really regret it."

Tanager watched her warily, some of the trembling gone from her limbs. The gooseflesh had eased to reveal reddened, scratched skin.