The Wolf Bundle waited.
Chapter 7
Little Dancer woke in the night, chilled by the dew that condensed on the leaves around him. The hide he lay on had softened with the moisture. He shivered and sat up, instinctively looking for his mother first and the stars second. Perhaps an hour remained until the false dawn—or so he judged. Learning to tell time by the stars took practice. They changed so with the seasons.
He rubbed a knuckle in his eye, but couldn't see Mother anywhere. Among the shadows, the sage still bowed under the weight of the meat. Two Smokes lay on the other side of the fire. The bedding the berdache had brought for his mother remained folded, hair side in, against the brush.
Little Dancer shivered again, made uneasy by more than the nippy cold in his limbs. The night seemed to hover anxiously, like the voices of the antelope that had called to his mother.
He stood, clutching up his robe, and paced the few steps to the sullen glow of last night's fire. Two Smokes lay with his head under a bent arm. The soft breathing of the berdache came as a relief to Little Dancer. Not since the Wolf Bundle had been abused had Two Smokes slept easily. Little Dancer squatted over the fire, pulling his hide around like a tent over the coals. Warmth rose around him, caressing, bringing life back to his stiff limbs, driving the chill out. A pungent tang of smoke filled his nostrils.
From the darkness, a nighthawk's cry sounded. Insects clicked and chirred in the sage. Like a winter frost, tension drifted in the air, closing down, icing the soul the same way the morning dew had chilled his bones and flesh.
Where was Mother? The heat grew uncomfortably around his bottom. He stood, starting back toward the place he'd lain earlier, hesitating, crossing instead to settle himself next to the berdache.
That's when he saw the wolf. A big black animal padded out between the sage. Like a spirit, the creature stopped, keen yellow eyes catching the glint of the low fire.
Little Dancer swallowed hard, staring around to see why none of the dogs reacted. The beasts lay asleep, unaware of the intruder in their realm.
Looking back, he met the wolf's eyes, sharing a feeling of promise. Then, like a denizen of the imagination, the huge animal ghosted into the darkness.
Two Smokes jerked as Little Dancer curled next to him.
"Little Dancer? Are you all right?"
"Scared. I saw a wolf. Big and black. It looked at me."
Two Smokes reached to lay an arm over the boy, hugging him close. "Don't worry."
"I've heard talk. While I was out in the bushes, I overheard Walkalot Woman and Sleeping Fir. People say Heavy Beaver will Curse my mother. What does that mean? What will happen? Little children say they Curse each other . . . and sometimes rocks, and snakes, and scorpions. But when a Spirit Dreamer Curses, it's different, isn't it?"
"It's different."
"What will happen to us if Heavy Beaver Curses my mother?"
"You'll be fine. He probably won't Curse her anyway." Two Smokes added an Anit'ah phrase. "Sun rises, sun sets."
"You mean that we can't change what will happen? Like the sunrise?"
"Your Anit'ah gets better all the time."
"Because you make me talk it." Little Dancer frowned into the night. "Two Smokes?"
"Yes, little one?"
"You don't like it here, do you?"
"What do you mean? I'm fed. I have a warm lodge. Your mother and father are kind. I have you to wake me up in the middle of the—"
"But I've heard that sometimes . . . well, the men hurt you." The boy felt his friend tense, but he plunged on. "And people make jokes about you and what you do with your private places. I've seen the other children teasing and making fun of you because you wear a dress. That all hurts, doesn't it?"
"Shouldn't you be sleeping now? It was a long day and you're probably—"
"That's a way of not answering a question, isn't it? Asking another question?"
"I suppose."
"But you wish you were back with the Anit'ah, don't you?"
Two Smokes swallowed loudly. "Yes."
"Why don't you go? I think things are pretty bad here. I've heard the Anit'ah still have buffalo up in the mountains. Maybe they don't have a Spirit Dreamer who Curses nice people like my mother. And you wouldn't get ridiculed. And men wouldn't catch you out gathering your plants and throw you down and lift your skirts to—"
"Shh! You sleep now. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and-"
"Two Smokes? Isn't that another way to keep from answering? Trying to make me think of other things
Silence stretched. Finally, the berdache said softly, "Once long ago, I made a mistake—and a promise. I swore something on the Wolf Bundle.''