"I think they're about ready." He pointed to where Two Smokes had picked up the bulky pack and his net. Now the berdache waited. The others stood around, talking in the quiet manner of people about to embark into the unknown.
She didn't seem to hear, still sailing like an eagle on the currents of her mind.
"I guess I just didn't understand. I wish I could have done better for you. I wish I could have been your Dreamer."
She didn't seem lucid, those ancient eyes still unfocused as she whispered, "... No, not a Dreamer. A Dancer. Fire Dancer."
His muscles tightened. The Cloud Man had called him that. What did it mean? "Take care. We'll be back to see you soon."
She stood, staring fixedly at the infinite point in her mind only she could see.
Awkward, not knowing what else to do, he walked past her, finding his pack next to the shelter where he'd left it.
"Is she all right?" Elk Charm asked, coming to stand beside him.
"I . . . I think so."
"She's fine. I've seen her like this before." Two Smokes turned on his good heel. "Maybe she wants it this way. Wants us to leave while she's in a vision."
Hobbling along, Two Smokes started down the trail.
Little Dancer looked back, catching one last glimpse of the old woman, still propped on her walking stick like a patient heron, infinity in her clouded old eyes.
Little Dancer sat on an outcrop of sandstone where it rose like a monster's backbone above the ridge. From the vantage point, he could look out to the east and the coming of the night. The land lay mottled, shadowed in lavender and buff where broken ridges extended their lengths to the north and south. Timbered patches looked somber, bluish green in the failing light. Yellow stripes of mudstone interbedded with gray and white shales. Beyond, the tan of the grasslands humped and rolled into the cloud-shadowed vastness of the plains, drifting away, leading the eye into an endless horizon of charcoal and blue until it merged with the indistinct haze of the cloud-packed sky.
Heavy Beaver waited out there, somewhere, his flat features knowing and powerful. That superior smile—so familiar to Little Dancer's memory—lay lazily on those full lips. The scar from the Anit'ah war dart dimpled his broad forehead. Those smoky eyes looked placid, hiding the intent of the wicked heart and mind within.
Little Dancer clamped his eyes shut and shook his head slowly. "They don't need a boy with bad dreams. They need a hero—like the First Man."
Below him, the ridge dropped off in a steep slope spotted with sage and rabbitbrush, yellow flowers still fading on the latter. Angular blocks of sandstone broken from the rim scattered the slope. Gray-capped rosy finches flitted through the sage on agile wings. An insect chirred in the silence. The dried grasses rustled uneasily under the promise of the cool wind.
The autumn of the soul stretched before him.
Gravel crunched under a hesitant foot. He turned, watching Elk Charm climb gracefully up the dun-colored rock, easing to sit next to him where she could share the view.
“Lost in your head again?"
He smiled nervously, looking down at where his callused hands gripped the gritty sandstone. "I guess.”
She shifted, wrapping long legs under her, and propped herself with a bracing arm. The western breeze teased the rich raven tones of her long hair. "Two Smokes says it's the Power in you. Do you feel it? The Power, I mean?"
He tried to make an answer that wouldn't betray too much— and failed to find the words. "I don't know. I guess. I . . . I don't know."
"What's it like?"
He shot her a quick look, noting the concern in her eyes. "Scary."
"You're very brave."
"I don't feel that way."
She shrugged, dress rasping as she sought a more comfortable position. "I guess it's because people do what they have to do to stay alive. I wonder about me. A handful of days ago I was happy, playing with Cricket and Tanager and full of laughter and games. Now I'm here because the world changed. I became a woman and Blood Bear wanted me. Now I'm mixed up in the middle of it."
"Are you afraid because of that?"
She raised her head, meeting his searching gaze. "Yes." A ghost of a smile hovered at the edge of her lips. "But I'll take my chances. I guess I don't . . . well, I don't wonder about Power the way you do. I think it just happens and I accept it."
"I wish it was that easy."
She cocked her head. "Maybe you make it hard?"
"Maybe."
A silence stretched while he enjoyed the closeness. How long since he'd had anyone he could simply talk to? If the Dream of the ridge top repeated itself, would Elk Charm turn into rock and try to topple him into the chasm below?