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People of the Fire(146)

By:W. Michael Gear


"But what do I do?"

"Dream, Little Dancer. That's what you do. You Dream the real new way for the People. You Dream the Spiral back. Leave the rest to me. I've been shaped for this just as a horn bowl is shaped and carved by a craftsman. Fool that I was, I'll be serving you until the end—and through it, I'll get my wish. I'll get to touch the One." He smiled up into the morning sun, raising his hands. "Thank you for this day, Wise One Above. Thank you for the wonder. Thank you for the light of understanding. I, Two Smokes, thank you for letting me finally see."

Elk Charm sat at the top of the trail staring up toward the peaks where Little Dancer had gone. How long would it take?

As she sat, she rubbed long sections of the juniper bark back and forth between her callused palms. She'd peeled the lengths earlier, using a large quartzite flake to strip the bark from mature trees. By working the hairy bark vigorously, she could shred it into fibers and crush them to make an absorbent for her infant's bottom. And infants can go through an incredible amount of absorbent.

She chewed fretfully at her lip, taking a quick look to see that the baby slept peacefully in the cradle board. A bluebird shot past, landing on an overturned stump, trilling to the warm air of the morning.

She saw Two Smokes hobbling along in his swinging walk before she made out Little Dancer and the lean shape of the black wolf darting through the sage. Something about the way Little Dancer walked, that curious looseness so uncharacteristic of him, reminded her of a man in a daze. Getting to her feet, she ran for him.

Two Smokes called out, trying to get her attention, but she could see the slackness that filled Little Dancer's expression. A glaze lay behind his eyes.

She twisted past Two Smokes' reaching fingers and threw herself into his arms. He held her awkwardly, but her frantic worry hid that fact from her in the beginning. Only when she felt him stiffen and draw back did she look up, searching his face for some indication of the problem.

"Little Dancer? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he told her uneasily; the familiar light of love in his eyes warred with something else, something powerful and frightening. "I've Dreamed, you see . . . touched the One."

"Elk Charm?" Two Smokes put his hand on her shoulder, warm and firm. "Elk Charm, he's been in the Spirit World. He Dreamed with the First Man."

She stared up at him, wondering at his detached smile. "Little Dancer?"

He reached out, placing hands on either side of her face. For that moment, he smiled for only her, and her soul leapt. "Elk Charm, my wonderful Elk Charm." Tears ran down his face as he hugged her tight, crushing her to his breast I understand. You, too, have taught me. That's why you came to me. I couldn't have ever understood all the ways of love without you. I couldn't have understood so much about people, and why they are the way they are."

She shook her head, confused, happy that he held her. If only she didn't have the dread that something precious had begun to slip away from her life.

"Come," Little Dancer told her, backing away, reaching for her hand as well as Two Smokes'. "I have to prepare. There isn't much time."

"Time for what?" she demanded. But Little Dancer had already continued his way, stopping only to place his hands on the baby's face before walking down the trail. As she unhitched the cradle board from the tree, she noticed that Two Smokes studied her thoughtfully, worry mixed with anguish.

"It's time," he said gently. "He must go now."





Chapter 23




Tanager ran, exulting in the rush of air from her lungs as her leg muscles pumped. The feeling of smooth power, of balanced stride and reserves untapped, thrilled her. For the first time in her life, she'd found her place. Where once she'd been teased for her odd ways, for her desire to hunt and trace the paths of the animals, now she would prove her worth.

She twisted around trees, vaulting rocks and deadfall where it lay in the trail. She'd always enjoyed running through the timber, meeting the challenge of the cool green ways, ducking and dodging branches. Like the elk, she'd prided herself on the ability to pass rapidly, quietly. And like the wind, no one could keep up with Tanager when she shot through the trees like a dancing dart. Not even the most powerful men could match her fleet steps and avoid tangling in branches or crashing through like a buffalo who'd lost the trail. Here, the heart of the mountains, was Tanager's element.

As she ran, the darts clacked hollowly in her hand. White Calf s darts—a legacy of Power and courage.

"So it's done," the old woman had whispered as Tanager lifted her old head from the ground. White Calf's skin had sunk, going sallow, exposing the lines of the skull.