People of the Fire(140)

"But here?" Tanager's panic spread.

White Calf glared at her. "You would be leader of the Red Hand? Hah! Then you'd better start to prove it, girl. You've got four men to kill."

"There's five!"

"One has to live."

"One?"

White Calf dropped her eyes. "Let's say that's my price."

Straight Wood followed behind, watching while Left Hand worked out the trail. Just luck, that's all it had been. After they had lost the Anit'ah woman completely, a single track in the dust had pointed the way. By then the woman had to have believed she'd lost them. The tracks had to be hers. How many women would be walking around barefoot? And from the scuffs, she'd been near exhaustion and limping slightly.

Left Hand continued at a trot now, pointing here and there at a faint mark along the way. They worked up from the Clear Water River, following a well-used trail. Ahead, a grayish-white limestone cliff rose up to a high peak above the dark green tangle of trees.

"Look!" Firm Dart pointed. "Someone's gathered firewood in here."

Straight Wood could see the places where the branches had been broken off. So they might have an Anit'ah camp here? He let himself fall slightly behind. Five of them? To attack a Red Hand camp?

"I don't know if this is such a good idea. With only five of us, what happens if we run into—"

"She killed Two Blue Moons and Tiny Ant," Left Hand insisted, trying to keep his voice down.

Firm Dart raised his hand for silence. "She killed our people—one of our greatest warriors. Most of their camps are small, with few men—and those old. I say we hit them hard, In the confusion, we kill the woman, and who knows, maybe we rout them all. The heart is gone out of the Anit'ah anyway. ''

Left Hand nodded curtly, taking to the trail again.

Straight Wood gritted his teeth, again taking the last position. Left Hand pulled up before the trees thinned to a large meadow. From where he stood, Straight Wood could see tan hides covering what looked like an overhang in the cliff. No other sign of a camp, no barking of dogs, no calls could be heard on the still air. The old woman sat in the sun, legs folded under her, face lifted to the morning.

"One old woman." Left Hand waved them forward.

Straight Wood felt that tug at his heart, the feeling of premonition. Why? Hadn't Heavy Beaver Sung over him and made him powerful? Reassured at the thought, Straight Wood followed.

The old woman could have been oblivious. Straight Wood studied the situation. No one could sneak up on them from behind. A belt of trees grew along the base of the limestone, and that was it. Unless an entire war party hid in the shelter, they faced one old woman, and maybe the young girl who'd killed so quickly after they raped her.

"Stop there, warriors of the People!" The feeble cry wavered in the air.

"She's one of the People?" Left Hand asked.

"Who are you?"

"I am White Calf. Come no closer or you'll die!"

"The witch!" Straight Wood gasped, thoughts going back to that day when White Calf had appeared and taken the berdache and the boy from under Heavy Beavers very

"Witch?" Left Hand laughed. "Are you a witch?"

"No. But go away. You have this chance. Otherwise you'll die."

Left Hand's arm shot back. Human lightning, his body bent, putting weight behind the cast of the dart. Straight Wood stared, watching the slim projectile glinting in the sun. It could have been a hawk, so smoothly did it fall from the blue sky, lancing down to transfix the old woman's gut with a soft slap.

"Come on!" Left Hand yelled. "Let's find the girl!" And they charged forward.

Straight Wood straggled along behind, eyes fixed on the old woman where she still sat, fragile fingers tracing the shaft of the dart that stuck up from her guts.

He didn't see Left Hand take the dart that killed him, but the warrior stumbled and went down, whimpering horribly.

"The girl!" Firm Dart shrieked, pointing, changing the direction of his charge, oblivious to the plight of Left Hand. The others sprinted after her. She ducked through the trees with the grace of a deer in flight.

Straight Wood hesitated, and finally walked up the gradual slope, looking down at the old woman. Yes, this was White Calf. She stared up at him, black eyes flashing.

"So," she croaked. "You killed White Calf? Fool, you just brought the death of the People."

"Heavy Beaver's warriors are everywhere, witch. Anit'ah flee from us. Most don't even stand and fight. Heavy Beaver's Dreamed their destruction."

She chuckled and winced at the pain. "With my death you've spat upon Power for the last time."

"What do you mean, witch? What would you know of Power?"