"He's the Dreamer. It's worked." Three Toes glanced up from where he sat on a flat rock, a haggard look about him. "Not only that, but the Spirit Dreamers among the Cut Hair and the Fire Buffalo People are worried that Heavy Beaver's ideas will spread. Already angry young men are pointing fingers at the Short Buffalo, demanding revenge on them for the deaths and the stealing of their women. They're claiming that Heavy Beaver's way is better, more powerful; otherwise they wouldn't be defeated in battle like they are."
"And it continues to sweep the plains?" White Calf turned her head, bright eyes on Little Dancer. "Then it will continue to grow, to wind up more and more peoples like spring-shed buffalo fur around a turned rosebush stem/'
"But if a war party could raid them back, defeat them in a battle, maybe—"
"Bah!" White Calf waved her hands at Hungry Bulls thought. "You're dealing with an idea, not a war party. It's what Heavy Beaver's teaching that's got to be stopped. You won't win by killing his young men in a big fight."
"Then how?" Black Crow asked.
"Power." She whispered so softly they almost didn’t hear. "He's got to be out-Dreamed. This is the Fire Time. Someone has to Dance with Fire ... to hold the coals and be One with them. That's where the end comes. A new way has to be taught to everyone. The buffalo hunters are dying off. The world's changing, just like it did when the animals we call monsters were vanishing. Men hunted the big beasts to death—just like we're doing with the buffalo."
White Calf looked around, taking in each face. "That's right. Heavy Beaver, with his way, will kill them all. His people will be desperate. Maybe the buffalo have to go after all, huh? Maybe that's what the Wise One Above has Dreamed for this Fourth World of his." She smacked her lips, keen eyes on Little Dancer, as if she spoke to him without regard to the others. "But then, maybe another way can be Dreamed for the People—a way that gives them other means to survive than to kill off buffalo in this age of Fire."
"You can't live like the Red Hand in the plains," Hungry Bull insisted. "Sego lily, biscuit root, serviceberry, and things like that don't grow there. It's just grass and occasional buffalo berry along the drainages. And besides, the People wouldn't want to eat things like roots. They're buffalo people. They eat meat."
"That's what has to be Dreamed." White Calf steepled her fingers. "And the only way it will change will be for a powerful Dreamer to go down there and change it."
Little Dancer's throat went dry. No! Oh, no you don't. Not this again. You can't make me. I 'm not the one! On my mother's dead soul, I'm not the one. Power's wrong, it hurts people.
And his mother's words echoed in his memory: "I don't want my son to ever make anyone feel the way I do now."
Slowly, he got to his feet, shaking his head, realizing that everyone was looking at him. He backed away, aware that his father had dropped his eyes and was fumbling at the dirt with a stick, drawing little lines and crossing them.
The Dream image of the rocky ridge shimmered in his mind, his father turning to stone below him. Like all the others, he’ll fail me in the end, leave me to plunge into the abyss.
Little Dancer turned to run . . . and froze. Coming down the trail, Blood Bear led his band of Anit'ah warriors.
And worse, Elk Charm walked ashen-faced before him.
* * *
As Blood Bear broke into the clearing, Rattling Hooves jumped to her feet. She'd missed most of the conversation chattered back and forth in the Short Buffalo tongue. This she could understand. Blood Bear had captured her daughter.
She started forward only to end up on the point of Blood Bear's war dart. The keen-edged stone dimpled the hollow of her throat as she looked up into his smoldering eyes.
“What have you done, woman? Led Short Buffalo People through the lands of the Red Hand? Is this how you treat your people?"
“Let go of my daughter." She forced the words, aware that all he had to do was move his hand to slit her throat wide.
Elk Charm thrashed in his powerful grip. Behind, the warriors watched warily as the Short Buffalo People clustered behind White Calf.
"She's a woman now—and I have her. First, I think we'll kill these raiders . . . and keep their women as they kept ours last year. Then you and your daughter will come and live with me."
"Never!" Rattling Hooves managed through gritted teeth.
The anger in Blood Bear's eyes began to shine. "You're a beautiful woman, Rattling Hooves. Even at your age, you've managed to snare my interest. Normally, a man doesn't marry a women as well as her daughter.''
"You wouldn't!" White Calf limped forward, leaning on her stick. "Among the Red Hand, that's incest! You'd be her father!"