The man-shaped clouds flickered from within, illuminated by flashes of lightning. The man's features glowed eerily white, watching, pensive, brooding.
Little Dancer gasped and looked, tearing his eyes away from the Watcher, for the briefest instant. When he glanced back, the animal had disappeared into the night, only the grasses waving to indicate its passage. With trembling fingers, he reached to feel the crushed stems, almost detecting a warmth through his fingertips.
The dull rumble of thunder rolled across the mountains, the voice of Power unrestrained. Little Dancer swallowed hard and turned toward the towering clouds; the looming thunder-head had changed form. Where the man had watched, the head now resembled that of a huge wolf. Another low growl of thunder echoed across the canyons.
For long moments he sat paralyzed. Beat by beat, his heart counted the long moments as the thunder rumbled away for an eternity and took his soul with it.
"Late for thunder.”
"Scared you?" Two Smokes asked as he hobbled down from the elk trail and settled himself. Behind him, Elk Charm moved like a shadow. "Power's loose tonight. You can feel it. You know, like that silent calm before a violent storm."
His heart continued to beat like a pot drum.
"You all right?"
"The wolf, the Watcher ... did you see it? Huge . . . black. . ."
Two Smokes cocked his head. "No wolf ran by us. But Power's been around. Skin prickles. When you sniff, you smell the scent of it."
Little Dancer dropped his head onto his knees, breathing hard. A sudden trembling took control of his quivering muscles.
Two Smokes talked on, feigning unconcern. "White Calf wanted us to come find you. I'm supposed to lead Three Toes and his people to a camp I know. You can go or stay here. The decision is yours. It's been a busy day for everyone. Hungry Bull is going. I think he wants some time with his friends, time to be with his people."
Little Dancer tried to still the racing of his heart.
"I'm betting Rattling Hooves will go with him," Two Smokes continued. "I guess she doesn't have much to go back to among the Red Hand for the time being. Blood Bear would make her miserable. White Calf thinks it would be a good thing if she went to tell the People how the Red Hand live."
Little Dancer chewed the inside of his cheeks. "I won't stay here."
Two Smokes nodded, expression hidden by the shadows. "I think she expects as much."
He peered uneasily at his old friend. "She didn't order me to stay?"
Two Smokes slowly shook his head. "I don't understand it, but she almost insisted that you . . . and Elk Charm, go. She just smiled, rocking back and forth, looking . . . well, I'd call it satisfied."
Little Dancer frowned into the night. His nerves bunched like those of a ground squirrel when a hawk's shadow passed through the grass. Too much had happened too quickly. In the roil of his mind, nothing made sense. He couldn't think. Life twisted around him in a rush, out of control, tumbling head over heels before he could think about it.
"And she didn't even argue for me to stay? Demand I talk to her about Dreams?"
"No. She says you're in other hands than hers now. She says your way has been set."
Little Dancer plucked at a stem of grass, twirling it in his fingers. "You've known her for a long time, Two Smokes. What do you think she's after?"
The berdache shrugged. "She thought she could teach you things that might make a difference when you finally meet Heavy Beaver. She thought she could—"
"I'm not going to meet Heavy Beaver. I'm not her Dreamer."
Two Smokes paused for a moment. When he spoke, it was with great deliberation. "I think, my friend, that she knows that. I think that whatever happened today, she saw that you're not her Dreamer.''
"Oh?"
Two Smokes swallowed, the sound loud in the silence of the night. "I think ..."
"Go on. We've been together for too many years for you to try and wiggle out of it like a snake from a pouch
Two Smokes laughed under his breath, the expression without humor. "I suppose so. Then maybe you should know that she whispered something to herself." He hesitated, expression pensive. "The words she whispered when she thought no one could hear were, 'He's not mine. Fool that I am. He's always belonged to Wolf.' "
Stricken, he looked back at the clouds. Fingers like ice played along his spine.
"We have him. " The thousand souls of the Wolf Bundle stirred wearily, worry alleviated.
"For the moment," Wolf Dreamer agreed. "He's torn. Drawn at the same time he’s repulsed. He still denies.”
"This is the chance. Renew me. Let me add my Power. Let me adjust the Spirals—''