People of the Moon(9)
Bad Cast crouched down, staring into Ripple’s glazed eyes. He waved his hand in front of Ripple’s face and got nothing in return. When he touched his friend’s skin, he yanked his hand back. “He’s like ice!”
“Hey! Ripple, stop it!” Spots punched Ripple’s shoulder. At the blow, the hunter rocked slightly, then blinked and looked up. He was staring straight into Bad Cast’s eyes when he said, “She was here.”
“Looking for Wrapped Wrist, no doubt,” Spots muttered, staring sidelong at his friend. “Women go a little flighty when he’s out of the village for a night.”
“Hush!” Bad Cast barked. “Who was here? What happened, Ripple?”
“She came to me.” His brows lowered. “Cold … terribly cold. Snow on the ground around her feet. Her eyes … gods, so red and empty.”
Wrapped Wrist squatted down beside Bad Cast, thick forearms on his knees. “Who was she?”
“Cold Bringing Woman.” Ripple’s whisper was awed.
Bad Cast cocked his head. “The god? The one the First People call Old Woman North? You’re saying she came to you last night?”
The nod was ever so slight. Ripple swallowed for the first time. “She said I could destroy the First People.”
“You?” Spots replied skeptically. “You? By yourself? When the wishes, curses, and prayers of everyone else in the world can’t?”
“For a price,” Ripple whispered. “I have to see the Mountain Witch, the one who Dreams the turquoise cave. She’ll know what to do. What this means.”
“The witch?” Wrapped Wrist said warily.
“She Dances with Mud Head and weaves the threads of the future.” Ripple said it absently. “Allies will appear in unusual places.”
“Sure,” Spots added. “Whatever that means.”
“I have to pass the test … watch for the signs.”
Bad Cast stood, stepping over to the elk quarters. “Well, the signs are that this is going to sour if we don’t get it down to—”
“It’s frozen.”
“Sure,” Bad Cast growled. “It was hot as blazes last night.” But he hesitated as if unwilling to find out. Then he stepped over and placed a hand on the meat: cold and clammy. Frowning, he punched it. The surface might have thawed, but when Spots pulled his belt knife and jabbed the sharp quartzite point into the flesh, he couldn’t drive it in. With a thumbnail he widened the slit to expose ice crystals in the meat.
“I’ll be,” Bad Cast whispered. He let his hands run over the wilted vegetation. It looked as if it had frozen in the night.
“When did you kill this elk?” Spots demanded.
“Yesterday morning,” Ripple replied.
Wrapped Wrist gave Bad Cast a worried look, lowering his voice. “What do you think?”
Bad Cast rubbed his jaw. “How do you freeze an elk solid in the middle of the summer?”
“Power.” Ripple stared at them through haunted eyes. “I have the chance to destroy them.”
“How can you destroy the First People?” Spots demanded. “You’re nobody! Not even one of the Made People. The way the First People think, you’re a barbarian orphan from a slave people the Blessed Sun doesn’t think of but once in a sun cycle—if then!”
“I have to go see the witch,” Ripple maintained stubbornly.
“Right,” Wrapped Wrist agreed. “It’s more likely that she and Mud Head will knock a hole in your skull. Then they’ll suck your souls out with your brains and have them for dinner.”
Ripple shook himself and stood. He wobbled on his feet for a moment. “I’m going. And I want you to go with me.”
“Us?” Spots cried. “Why us?”
“Because you were on the way here. She had to know you were coming.”
Bad Cast felt a shiver go through his bones. “Yes, well, let’s get the meat to First Moon Village. Then we’ll talk about it, all right?”
“Where’s the gut pile?” Wrapped Wrist asked. “You know, the heart and liver and all.”
“I shared them with Father Grizzly,” Ripple whispered, eyes still seeing something terrible and distant.
“Of course you did. Cold Bringing Woman and Father Grizzly. Your new best friends.” Spots lifted an eyebrow. The gesture created a frightening expression on his scar-slick face.
“She chose me,” Ripple said self-consciously.
Rotted gods! He really believes it! Bad Cast could see it in Ripple’s face, in the set of his shoulders. A shiver ran down his spine, as if Cold Bringing Woman herself traced a frosty finger down his back.