"Come, take my hand. Together, we'll Dance the poison, and you'll learn it's only illusion."
"Then White Calf was right?"
"More than she could ever know."
Little Dancer winced at the pain, gulping for air, seeking to quiet his reeling reality. He reached for the man of light, fingers grasping into a brilliant flash. . . .
He awoke, flat on his back, staring up into the night sky. A terrible thirst burned with the intensity of fever. In his mouth, his tongue rasped like dry leather
He whimpered and forced himself to sit up, looking about owlishly, trying to place where he was. A solitary spire of rock supported his back.
"What?" The sound of his voice frightened him.
He blinked, remembering. He'd climbed to find Wolf Dreamer. The snake had bitten him. Frantic fingers clawed at his leg, feeling familiar firm flesh. He stared around, seeing nothing out of order in the darkness
The memory of Wolf Dreamer settled warm in his mind. He'd Danced with the Wolf Dreamer; together, they'd been the Oneness, floating like the wind, Dancing with the pulse of the universe, singing and chanting in harmony with the beat of the Creator. In that manner, they'd felt the twirling beauty of the spinning stars, heard the songs of distant suns, and felt the pulse of life. He had known freedom then. His soul had become light. The memory clung to him with the rich sweetness of warm honey.
That bit of flesh that made up Little Dancer had been left behind, a bit of matter, a composite of tissue that deluded. The glory of the One shimmered in his memory, absorbing his thoughts until he realized the sun had climbed into the sky.
Could he do it again? Could he Dance the One, Dream it out of thin air without Wolf Dreamer? He felt the call, desperate, yearning. Like a melody on the wind, it came to him.
“The Wolf Bundle."
He crawled to the edge of the pinnacle and looked over the side. The spirit of the rocks hummed beneath him. Without a worry, he lowered himself, seeking a foothold.
His muscles quivered from the strain, irritating pain shot up his fingers as the rock dug into his skin.
First he had to recover the Wolf Bundle. In the depths of his mind, he could feel it as he'd always known he could. The long wait had come to an end. So little time remained. He had to get the Wolf Bundle, restore its Power—and he had so much to learn.
Two Smokes hitched his painful way up the side of the drainage, wincing at the pain in his knee. The older he got, the worse it seemed to hurt. In his hand he clutched a delicate shock of ricegrass. The seed pods, full and ready to burst, bobbed as he walked.
He stopped for a moment to get his breath and stumped over to a large flat boulder. There, he gratefully lowered himself and pulled the leather roll of his grass collection from where it traveled securely in his belt. He unrolled -the long leather strip, staring at the various grasses he'd collected through the years. He had lots of ricegrass, of course, and now stared at it, admiring the fragile beauty.
Overhead a raven cawed and clucked, wheeling about as if to give him a casual inspection. A grasshopper rose on clicking wings, silver glinting off its shimmering flight. The summer stretched around him, alive with the sounds of insects and birdsong.
Two Smokes let the sun burn into his face. To live on a day like this made everything worthwhile. The warmth paid him back for the storms that rolled across the land and made his bad knee ache. This day rewarded him for the long blizzards, the times he'd shivered in rain-soaked clothing or huddled under frost-stiff hides.
Absently, he picked up a rounded sandstone cobble and used it to smash a seed pod of the ricegrass, staring at the flattened seed and the tiny hairs. He mashed another and another with increasing excitement.
“You stupid old fool!" He blinked, feeling the pieces of his long quest coming together. Here lay the answer, after all the years of chewing individual seeds, of grinding grass stems, and pulling the shoots apart by the hour to nibble the sweet stalks of the grass. No, people couldn't eat the body of the grass, but the seeds—yes, the seeds—could be eaten!
His heart felt fit to burst and a tear trickled down his weathered cheek. He'd never thought to collect the seeds— they were the smallest part of the plant. But how many times he had plucked a stem, just to have the seeds fall out and scatter? And no matter that seeds were small, there were so many. Grass grew everywhere!
He looked about, seeing the nodding heads of grass going to seed everywhere. As he did so, movement caught his eye. The black wolf walked out of the juniper, followed by Little Dancer.
Two Smokes chuckled to himself. "Hey, come here! I found it! I found the secret of the grasses! Come look! It's the seeds! It's the seeds!" Two Smokes whooped and waved his hands.