People of the Fire(40)

She ground her teeth. "Because I had to. It was the right thing. I don't know. I felt so strong. I thought I could stand up to him, that it would be all right."

"And then?"

"Then I came back to the lodge last night with a load of dried meat. And I looked over and saw the sticks and it all became real. He's going to kill me. He's always hated me. I felt the Power of that. Hate, I mean. It's a powerful thing— and it's all turned against me."

"He still can't kill you—unless you let him."

"But I—"

"You're as strong now as you were when you made the decision to eat the meat. You acted right then, why can't you accept that now? Why can't you walk out and stare him in the eye?"

She swallowed at the clinging dryness in her throat. "I didn't know how it would wear at me. I ... I feel lost, Chokecherry. I don't know anymore."

The old woman took a deep breath, leaning back. 44 I see. That's it, isn't it? You don't know."

"What if he's right?"

Chokecherry rubbed her lined forehead. “That's the real problem. You've only got his word that he's a Spirit Dreamer. Blood and tears, woman, you've got to believe he's a liar! That's your only hope ... the only hope for the People! What if you die? Huh? Think of it! If you kill yourself worrying about his foul sticks, what then? You think hell be a better person for it? Or will he turn his Power on someone else?"

Horrified, Sage Root stared into Chokecherry's eyes.

"That's right. After you, who's next?"

"I didn't want this. All I wanted was to feed my child."

Chokecherry shook her head. "I know. But it's you. Maybe the spirits chose, huh?"

Sage Root winced, claimed by a sudden urge to cry. "Why is this happening?"

Chokecherry sighed, slapping helpless hands to her sides. "It's the drought. The fact that the People are splintering into so many little groups just to survive. I don't know. Everything started going wrong in my father's time. That's when the White Crane drove us south, drove us to come here. The Cut Hair People fought to keep this land—then one of their war chiefs captured a young girl, fell in love with her, and married her. He made peace—stopped the fighting with the understanding that we wouldn't go further south. He bound us by our honor. The Anit'ah keep the good hunting grounds in the Buffalo Mountains because they know the trails up there; and we got the Moon River so far as the confluence with the Sand River to the east. Only there isn't enough to feed us all. But once, ah, yes, once there were huge camps of the People stretching as far as the eye could see."

"You said you'd tell me about Spirit Power," Little Dancer said shyly from beside her.

Chokecherry laughed. "Yes, I did, didn't I? Well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything!"

"Everything?"

"Yes. I want to be a Spirit Dreamer when I grow up and get a name. Then Heavy Beaver will never bother Mother again."

Sage Root stifled a sudden unease. "Why, son? Why would you be a Spirit Dreamer?"

Her boy looked up defiantly. "Because then I could put sticks out and kill Heavy Beaver!"

Sage Root closed her eyes and shook her head. "No. You'll never do that. I forbid it."

She could feel Chokecherry's eyes on her. "Girl, if the boy-"

"I said, no! I don't want my son to ever make anyone feel the way I do now. Do you understand? This is ... is evil!"

Chokecherry shifted uneasily, reaching for her hearth sticks. They were nothing more than two willow stems tied in the middle; she could separate the ends to make tongs with which to pick up boiling stones. This she now did, plucking the hot rocks from the center of the fire, dropping them sizzling and steaming into the stew bag where it hung from a tripod.

“Come on, girl. You're upset. You haven't eaten and you haven't slept. The mind gets funny when it's like that."

She shook her head, turning hollow eyes on Chokecherry as the old woman stirred the stew. "No. I don't want anything to do with Spirit Power. It's ruining my life. I won't have my son ruining others'."

Chokecherry bit her lips, testing the temperature of the stew before she scooped bowls full. "You know, when there are so few of us, what are you going to do if your son—who hears antelope spirits talking in the night—is a true Dreamer? What are you going to do if he can Dance with fire and Sing the stars?"

Sage Root stared at her, mind fogged with disbelief. "Not my son. Not ever." If Heavy Beaver doesn't kill me, that is.

"Aieeeeah!" A scream rent the quiet air.

"What the . . ." Chokecherry ducked her head around the flap, looking to see what caused the commotion.

Sage Root ducked after her from the lodge. People hurried toward the bluff back of the camp. Caught in the rush, she followed, aware of Little Dancer clinging to her skirt.