People of the Fire(43)

"Anit'ah!" Two Smokes shrieked, crabbing away from Blood Bear as he settled a second dart in the hooked end of his atlatl.

Dung and flies! The whole band would be onto him now. For a split second, Blood Bear hesitated, shrugging the meat pack out of the way. Should he waste another dart on the berdache? Or would he need every last one to escape?

An old man, white-haired, with frightened eyes, rounded a lodge, pulling up short, mouth dropping open to scream.

Blood Bear aimed true, his dart catching the man full in the chest. Two Elks shuddered under the impact, a gagging sound in his throat. Old legs turned rubbery as he sank to his knees and tumbled sideways.

Looking back, he saw Two Smokes had disappeared. Shouts came boiling from the people now. Heart racing, Blood Bear leapt over a smoking fire pit. Hindered by the flopping weight, he discarded the heavy meat pack to bounce in the dust behind him. With the Wolf Bundle clamped to his chest, he dashed with all his might, bowling over a young man who stepped out in front of him.

A woman screamed. People called to each other in confusion as Blood Bear raced through camp. A dog appeared from somewhere to yip and snap at his heels. Blood Bear whirled only long enough to drive a dart into the beast's chest and rip it out. Then he was sprinting for the bluffs again.

Panting and gasping, he forced his driven body up the incline to the bluff above. He slowed, catching his second wind. Looking back, he saw no pursuers boiled after him. From his vantage he could see the People milling around the body of the old man, pointing at his skylined figure.

Grinning to himself, he hugged the Wolf Bundle close and began trotting across the broad terrace. Far to the northwest, the cool slopes of the Buffalo Mountains rose like a beacon.

The Wolf Bundle! Gone! The place of honor at the head of Two Smokes' smoldering bedding held the barest imprint of the parfleche in the hard dirt. The emptiness swelled into a gaping hole in Little Dancer's heart and soul. Blackness welled around the edges of his conscience. First Heavy Beaver's desecration—now this.

Little Dancer stared in through the door flap, head shaking slowly in his disbelief. The lodge, his lodge, the place where he'd always been safe from storm and cold and danger, lay before him, gutted, violated, and raped by the Anit’ah. Bedding smoked where coals burned through the hides.

"No. This isn't . . . can't be. . . ."

"Blood Bear," Two Smokes muttered in Anit'ah, where he ducked out of Three Toes' lodge, a long dart in his hand.

Little Dancer lowered himself to the ground, one hand grasping a lodgepole. All his strength gone, he simply stared at the wreckage of his lodge. He barely realized when Two Smokes settled next to him, the dart spinning in his fingers.

"After all these years, I wonder how he found me here. Even the People know he's been roaming the country. The Red Hand exiled him after I left with Clear Water and the Wolf Bundle."

"It's because of Heavy Beaver. He threw the Wolf Bundle into the dark that night. I felt it. The Power changed. The world's falling apart. Everything shifted. Maybe the Wolf Bundle wanted to go back where people would care for it."

"I cared for it. I loved it, kept it—"

"Heavy Beaver abused it. It couldn't trust you." As soon as he said it, he regretted the words. He looked up hesitantly to see tears creeping down Two Smokes' face. In sympathy, he reached a thin arm around the berdache's waist and hugged him tight. "It's not your fault, Two Smokes. It's not."

So faint he could barely hear, Two Smokes whispered, "Yes, it is. All my fault. From the very beginning."

The whisper of moccasins on dirt behind him made Little Dancer turn.

His mother stood there, hair out of place and blowing in straggles in the afternoon breeze. Her hollow eyes barely registered the mess. Heart pounding, he stared up at her. The expression on her face belonged to a stranger. She looked through him, hands clenching and releasing spasmodically. The corners of her lips quivered, as if she might speak. Then she turned, ducking listlessly into the lodge. Soundlessly she stamped out the smoldering coals, tears like silver in her eyes.

"Mother?" he whispered, fearing the wild look, afraid to call after her. He looked out past the milling People who stood over Two Elks' body.

Two sticks remained.

* * *

What a stroke of luck! The People milled in confusion and disbelief as they hovered around Two Elks' body. Heavy Beaver stepped out of his lodge, dressed in his finest.

"My people! I've heard from the Spirits. Even as we speak, the world is turning, waiting. What has been wrought this day? Dancing Doe has seen the error of her ways. The Anit'ah have reclaimed their evil that lay like a festering sore to ooze its pus into our society!"