People of the Fire(47)

And how do you know? the voice inside demanded. How come your stomach doesn 't work? Why do you ache all over? How come you hear things? See things that aren 't there? Why do your muscles shake all the time? Why do you always feel so cold—even in the sun? You're dying. You can't fight his Power.

The chill in her soul seemed to expand. Despite herself, the old stories recited in bits and fragments in the back of her mind. Tales from the Winter Counts, they told of witches who could steal a man's soul. They told of the Hero Twins who brought human beings up from underground and into this world. And when it was all done, one of the brothers hit the other on the head, his blood dripping to become red jasper. The other brother had risen to the sky, becoming one with Starweb since his people were safe from evil.

"Evil. And has that returned?" Numbly, she stared at the moonlight outside. Flickers of moonbeams bent and shimmered to break into a thousand spinning stars. Undone, Sage Root cowered and covered her head. She lay that way until her body began to float away from the earth, turning slowly in the air.

She gasped and jerked at the familiar shadows of her lodge. Blinking to clear her sight, she dug frantic fingers into the singed robes to reassure herself of the firm ground.

Somewhere the dogs were yipping and growling. Outside, Two Smokes and Little Dancer huddled together in sleep, their shadows speckled where the moonlight shot patterns through the cotton wood leaves overhead.

Her mother had told of ghosts that walked the winter nights, howling like the wind. Always restless, the ghosts would steal a little girl away if she wasn't good and obedient. So the story went. Later, she'd come to wonder. Now, when she was faced with soul death, perhaps Heavy Beaver had found a way to call a ghost to come steal her soul? And why not?

Straining her ears, she could hear him, chanting softly from the insides of his lodge, the faint thump of a drum like the beat of her heart. The hair on the back of her neck rose in a prickly sensation.

"I had to do it. I had to save the antelope—-make it right for the People." She dropped her head into her hands. "I had to . . . that's all. I just couldn't do anything else." And now I'll die for it.

The faint thump of the drum echoed in her head. She shifted, reaching for the water skin and froze. Only one stick remained standing.

White Calf woke with a start. She blinked up at the moonlight. A call had stirred her soul, left it trembling and afraid. About her the night shifted, the feeling of unease slipping through the moonlight like a capricious spirit on dancing antelope feet.

She sat up, her old heart pumping the anxiety. Around the edges of her consciousness, the dream she'd had frayed and blew away like downy seeds from a thistle. What had it been about? Only the memory of haunted eyes and desperation remained.

She swallowed and stared up at the stars where they twinkled through the masking moonlight.

Around her, Three Toes, Hungry Bull, and Black Crow slept soundly. The night air brought the subtle perfume of sagebrush and the rich mold of earth to her nose. Crickets chirred in the silence.

The fear descended.

White Calf shook her worn hide robe off.

"Come on. Get up."

Hungry Bull sat up, instinctively reaching for his darts. Three Toes blinked owlishly. Black Crow squinted in the moonlight, looking around in confusion as he rolled out of his bedding.

"What?" Three Toes asked. "It's the middle of the night."

White Calf was already rolling her hide. "I know. I only hope we're not too late."

"Too late for what?" Hungry Bull demanded.

"I don't know." White Calf laced her rolled hide to her pack, squatting to get the tumpline over her forehead.

"Hey! I mean ..." But the old woman had already waddled off down the path that led to Moon River.

Gaping, Black Crow stared across at his friends, throat bobbing as he rubbed his round belly. "What now?"

"Got me," Three Toes mumbled, yawning, crawling from the shelter of his hides and starting to roll them up. "But I think we'd better find out."

You y re the one who has to lead now, Chokecherry's words echoed in her head.

"I can't. I'm not strong enough." Heart like a lump of punky wood, she stared at the single stick standing before Heavy Beaver's lodge. By noon, that would be gone.

And if you're not? What then, Sage Root? If you let him kill you, what happens to your son . . . to Hungry Bull?

A whisper seemed to rise from above, Dancing Doe's voice calling. She strained to hear the words, wincing at the pain in her stomach.

"I didn't ask for this. I just wanted to raise my child, keep my husband happy. I didn't ask for any of this. All I wanted was to see my people fed. Now I've become some sort of monster. Dancing Doe killed herself because I tried to help. If I hadn't been there ..." She winced, closing her eyes to the pain as gray dawn shaded the outlines of the lodges.