Thankfully, she wiped her lips.
"Do me a favor? Take this over to Chokecherry, then take whatever's left to everyone else until it's gone."
He grinned at her. "Sure. But maybe I could have some more? It was a long walk up here."
"Don't drink it all," she reminded him, reaching to turn the meat strips, squeezing the fatter ones to detect that mushy feeling of incomplete drying. Most were rock hard-testament to the aridity of the air.
"Mother?"
She looked back, seeing him watching her.
"Yes, son?"
"You can feel it. People are afraid. Is it Heavy Beaver? I heard in camp that he's going to Curse you today."
She stiffened, hiding her expression from him. "Yes, son, I suppose he will."
"That's why people are afraid? That's why you didn't sleep last night?"
"That's why. He also Cursed the meat. You heard him."
"But the antelope didn't mind. They told me so. I watched them last night. They don't like Heavy Beaver."
She made herself smile at him despite the emptiness in her breast. 'Then you listen to the antelope . . . always. Will you promise me?"
“Yes, Mother,” His face puckered into a frown. "And if Heavy Beaver Curses you, what then?"
She swayed, uncertain what to tell him. She dropped to her knees to stare into his face. "I don't know. But whatever it is, you'll stay with your father. He'll see that nothing happens to you."
“But what of you?"
She shook her head, reaching to stroke his face. “I don't know. Chokecherry says he can't kill me if I believe he can't. But it's Spirit Power, and I don't know about how things like that work. I just don't understand. That's all."
“Why?" he cried desperately. “Why would he do it? The People need the meat and the antelope—"
“Shhh! Don't make a fuss. People are looking at you."
"But why? Does he hate everyone?"
Just women. Instead she said, "It's old trouble between him and me. Don't worry your little head about it. Everything will be fine. You'll see, things will work out."
He shook his head. “No, they won't. Heavy Beaver hurt the Wolf Bundle. Bad things are loose. I can feel them. Only the antelope were good." He nodded soberly, eyes wide as he stared into hers. "Why don't we leave? We could pack up and-"
“But our People are here. And where would we go? What if your father didn't want to leave?"
He lowered his eyes. "We could go . . . somewhere. Even the Anit'ah would be better than—"
"Hush. I don't ever want to hear you speak like that again. And if you do, I'll send Two Smokes away. You hear? At his horrified look, she reached for him, holding him close, a tear creeping past her hot eyes. "I'm sorry. Don't listen to me. I'm scared, that's all."
“I know."
"It's just trouble, that's all. People do funny things.”
"Because you didn't do what Heavy Beaver said?”
"That's right. People can't have everyone making their own rules—"
“But the antelope think you did right. They let you trap them. They told me. Father wouldn't want you to hurt the antelope."
"No, but he wasn't here."
"Mother-"
"Hush, now. You think about what I said. And besides, you don't want everyone thirsty, do you? You've got a duty to the People, too. Your duty is to learn the ways of the People, to become a great hunter like your father. And for the moment, it's to see that Chokecherry doesn't die of thirst."
"But, Mother-"
"March, youngster." She accented it with a pointed finger.
He filled his lungs to protest, disobedience in his small clouded face. Her lifted eyebrow overcame his reluctance; he turned, walking toward Chokecherry on uncertain legs.
Blessed Wise One Above, I never knew it would be this hard. She bit her lip until it hurt and bent back to turning the meat. A dead feeling already lay in her breast. How long now? How long before Heavy Beaver came? Couldn't he just get it over? The waiting ate at her like a thing alive.
Involuntarily, her eyes kept shifting to her son where he walked from person to person with the water bag.
Tears began to leak past her eyelids.
Never in all his young life had he felt so insignificant. Not even hunger hurt this bad. Little Dancer cried as he turned the meat the way his mother had shown him. People just looked away, shamed. He wiped at his eyes, feeling the worry hanging in the air like bad smoke. If Heavy Beaver made his mother leave, he'd go, too. He'd follow.
In his mind the presence of the antelope lingered like a familiar warmth on a chill winter day. To make them feel better, he picked a small piece of dried meat from the pungent sage and chewed it thoughtfully, thanking their spirits for the gift of life. To himself, he Sang as he'd heard adults do. The sun seemed suddenly brighter, a lightness cutting the dark in his soul. In his belly, the meat warmed him, spreading its power through his limbs.