A group of girls circled the fire, following the pattern of the sun, twirling and jumping to the beat and chant of the old men.
Heavy Beaver watched, noting their athletic grace and boundless energy. For a wistful moment, his memory drifted back to when he'd been a boy-and never a good Dancer by any means. Boys had their own Dance that called for exuberant jumping and hopping. Why hadn't he ever had energy like that? All his life he'd tended toward fat and much preferred lying in the shade to running and playing.
Because I've always been different, always in my head. Mother saw that in me. She knew. He shook the sudden melancholy off and grunted to himself. That terrible Dream had left him irritable these last few days.
"It's only because you're finally removing the last of the threats," he reassured himself.
"What was that?" Elk Whistle asked.
"Nothing." He tilted his head back, chewing thoughtfully and savoring the flavor of the lean meat. "When we're finally coming to the end of our labors, a man must take time for reflection. Remember where he's been and what he's accomplished. This Blessing renews our spirit. At the same time, we pay respects to Buffalo Above and the Wise One for giving us the strength to do what we've had to."
"We had better hope the rains come," Seven Suns reminded him. "There can't be enough buffalo up in the mountains to support so many people up there. Even the Anit'ah had to split when they grew too many. That's when the White Crane moved to the plains."
Heavy Beaver shot a hard look at the old man. Would he always be like a thorn in a moccasin sole? "Perhaps you misread the signs, old friend. The drought came upon us to remind us our work wasn't done. The Anit'ah continue to offend the Spirit World with their way. When we've broken them forever and taken their mountains, the drought will break. Just as it did when we cleansed the People and pushed our enemies away."
Seven Suns said nothing, a pensive look in his old eyes.
"Look!" One of the warriors pointed from where he sat in the shade, a horn of pigment in his hand.
All eyes craned to the rising puff of haze over the mountains.
Heavy Beaver squinted into the sun, shading his eyes with a greasy hand, instantly wishing he'd wiped it. It would be foolish-looking if it streaked his forehead.
"Clouds," he decided, looking back at the old men. "You see, as my words mentioned it, so did—"
“Not clouds," Elk Whistle corrected. "Smoke
Smoke? Heavy Beaver stared again, seeing what he'd missed the first time. The yellowish tinges couldn't be mistaken.
“Perhaps some party let their camp fire get out of control."
“Or it's an Anit'ah trick. This woman of theirs, this Tanager, might have found some way—"
"Stop this foolish talk!" Heavy Beaver clapped his hands to ensure their attention. “No woman outside of my mother could think up a trick that clever. No, this is a sign. Our warriors probably started it. It's some way to make an end of the Anit'ah. Do you think the Anit'ah would burn their own lands? Already they've been prevented from collecting food for the winter. When have they had time to hunt?"
"They eat plants, too," Two Stones reminded him.
“And plants burn."
"Or they know something about winter up there that we don't. Maybe the bighorn ranges don't burn like the forests? They're crafty people, clever," Elk Whistle reminded.
“And you're fools." Heavy Beaver glared up at the sir. a worry tickling his fears. The Dancing had stopped. Pi stood around, looking, muttering nervously to each other.
I have to stop this or the silly fools will all be running in circles crying doom. He struggled to his feet, walking out into the Dance ground, hands raised.
"My people! Observe the Power of Heavy Beaver! Already the Anit'ah are breaking! Buffalo Above has sent us an ally in our fight! Look whose lands are burning! See the justice of Buffalo Above against those who stand in his way! Dance! Everyone Dance! Feel the Spirit as you Dance and pray! Cry your thanks to Buffalo Above! This is the turning! This is the way to our victory!”
The warriors screamed their delight, charging into the Dance circle and whooping as they jumped and brandished their darts. The pot drum began booming as the old men raised their voices.
Around him, the People began to Sing and Dance, hands raised to the pall of smoke over the Buffalo Mountains.
The sheer Power of it leapt like tire in Heavy Beaver’s breast. Yes, this was the Way! This was the Dream. They Danced for him, raising their arms over their heads in time with his, screaming and cheering. He stepped back, watching, joy about to burst in his chest. They Danced for him!
Elk Charm carried a basketful of infant-soiled juniper bark up the trail, knowing the way by feel now. She reached the cap rock and walked over to cast the litter onto the rock. By the next morning, the breezes would have carried it away.