From the corner of his eye, Silvertip glimpsed Windwolf. The war chief sat near a fire at the edge of the Sunpath lodges, talking with two men. New lodges filled the forest. More Sunpath people had trickled into the village last night. Many were wounded. Their cries rode the cold morning breeze.
Ashes leaned sideways and whispered, “Who is Windwolf talking with?”
“Just before I ran down here to practice, Grandfather told me his name. He’s Chief Sacred Feathers.”
“What band is he from?”
“Moon Rock. I don’t know where their territory is.”
Ashes said, “It’s far to the west, on the border between Sunpath and Southwind lands. Was it attacked?”
Silvertip nodded. “Karigi.”
In the middle of the circle, Fish Hawk perched on the balls of his feet and began weaving and feinting, leaping from foot to foot, shifting his club from hand to hand, twirling it faster and faster. Silvertip tried to do it, as did the other children, but no one was having much luck. In one final leap, Fish Hawk launched himself into the air and landed in a crouch. His club flashed down to within a hair’s breadth of the ground.
As he rose, Fish Hawk said, “I don’t expect you to be able to do that today, but keep practicing. You must train your muscles before you’ll be able to control the club.”
Silvertip balanced on the balls of his feet, as Fish Hawk had done, and listened to his club whir as he spun it from one hand to the other, then pirouetted and slashed down.
The other children made surprised sounds, and pointed at him. Fish Hawk grinned. “Very good, Silvertip. If you keep that up, you will master the club before you become a man.”
Silvertip smiled and ducked his head at the praise. Next summer he would have been initiated in the Men’s Lodge. A summer that would never come.
Fish Hawk called, “I’ll return shortly. In the meantime, continue practicing.”
Ashes walked closer to Silvertip and asked, “Can you teach me to do that?”
He nodded. “It’s easy. I’ll do it slowly. See if you can follow.”
She concentrated on his movements, trying to duplicate them.
“That was good, Ashes. Now, you just have to do it faster.”
Silvertip spun his club again, pirouetted, and landed in a crouch while he slashed down with his club.
Ashes did it, but lost her balance at the last instant and fell over. She laughed and said, “I need a lot more practice than you do.”
“You will do it. Better than I. You will make it like graceful Dance, swift like a striking falcon, but balanced, like a cougar that leaps and lands with total control.”
She gave him that sober look. “Sometimes, when you talk like that, it sends shivers down my spine.” She glanced warily around. “Why haven’t you told anyone about your Vision?”
He straightened, and his gaze drifted again to where Windwolf sat talking with the two men. “When they are ready.”
Ashes gave him an askance look, rose to her feet, and watched Windwolf for a time before she whispered, “You cried a lot last night.”
He bit his lip, and to hide it, began twirling his club. “It’s the only time I can weep for the people.”
She watched his club for a time, then said, “This is really going to happen, isn’t it?”
Silvertip let his club swing to a stop and propped it over his shoulder. Throughout the night, the Ancestors had slipped through the walls and walked around his bed as though he didn’t exist. As the ghosts murmured to each other, he’d heard other things: mammoths trumpeting; giant buffalo roaring like lions, the way they did in the rut; and a young man talking. He thought it was Wolf Dreamer’s voice, but wasn’t sure.
He said, “It will happen. Just as I said. Before I came to bed, I watched part of the future unfold. Just like Wolf Dreamer showed me. Windwolf met Keresa, and then he went to speak to Kakala.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
Silvertip exhaled hard, and his breath condensed into a frosty cloud. “They are struggling over the future.”
As Father Sun rose higher into the morning sky, more and more people came out of their lodges. The aroma of breakfast cooking carried on the cold breeze.
The other children drifted farther away, meandering down the slope as they practiced with their clubs, until Silvertip and Ashes stood alone.
Ashes reached up to touch her earlobe, and Silvertip’s eyes went wide. As she rubbed it, she flinched, and he could see that she’d cut off the bottom of her lobe. A person did that as an offering to the Spirit World. Usually it was done for success in Trading, or in hopes of curing a sick relative, but often people made the offering in mourning.