People of the Nightland(29)
Lookingbill sat silently, his dark eyes fixed on a distance within. Then he asked, “What do you think, War Chief?”
Windwolf ran his fingers down the smooth shaft of his war dart. “I think Raven Hunter is back.”
“Then were we wrong all these years?”
Windwolf shook his head. “Only half right.” He shifted. “Remember the stories. In the beginning, before Wolf Dreamer led the people through the hole in the ice, he and Raven Hunter battled for the souls of the people. Wolf Dreamer won. Ever since, our Dreamers have sought the One. Going off, secreting themselves, fasting, sweating, purifying their souls to escape to the Dream.
“In the process, we have forgotten that the Dark Twin has his own Power.” Windwolf met Lookingbill’s eyes. “Now I wonder if Raven Hunter hasn’t been biding his time, waiting for us to grow weak. I recall my grandfather telling me how in his grandfather’s time, everyone sought Wolf Dreamer’s vision. But today? How many of your people dedicate themselves to finding the One?”
Lookingbill nodded. “I can think of a handful.” He smiled slightly. “Like my grandson.”
“Silvertip?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“The rumor is that he will find Power.”
“If it doesn’t kill him first. He’s obsessed with the Wolf Bundle.” Lookingbill patted the large pouch at his belt. Then he looked up. “We have forgotten that we are all One. Instead we are Sunpath, Lame Bull, Southwind, Nightland, and so many others. The Prophet is now making us pay for forgetting that single truth.”
“Or Nashat is.”
Lookingbill studied him. “But Nashat only follows the Prophet’s orders.”
Windwolf shrugged. “You haven’t crept up close to Nightland warriors in their camps. They may say they follow the Guide’s orders, but listen through their words and it is Nashat who directs them. When you piece together different conversations, you learn that Nashat may have given an order in the Prophet’s name but a few days past, while others insist the Prophet has been in the caves for over a moon.” A pause. “To me, this does not make sense.”
Lookingbill leaned back, a frown on his face. “Then perhaps it is Nashat that we should kill.”
Windwolf shook his head. “Nashat may be the cunning soul behind the war, but his authority derives from Ti-Bish. If we chop off the lion’s head, the rest of the beast will cease to claw at us.”
“And how do we chop off the beast’s head?”
“A massed attack.” Windwolf leaned forward. “Part of the brilliance of this war against us is the quickness with which it moves. We are forever disorganized, fighting defensively while four different war parties attack in different directions.”
“Which means?”
“Who defends the Nightland villages?”
Lookingbill frowned. “But to strip warriors from protecting our villages is to leave them defenseless.”
“I never promised that doing this thing would be without risk.” Windwolf leaned back. “If I join my warriors with yours, it must be done quickly, and with as much strength as we can muster. So, you must ask yourself: Is it worth the risk to strike at the heart of the Nightland? Is it worth the destruction of your home and family to kill the Prophet?”
Lookingbill sighed, his shoulders slumping. “That I do not know. Are you sure there isn’t another way?”
“Name it, and I will consider anything.”
“Chief?” old Trembler called from outside.
“Enter,” Lookingbill called.
The old man ducked inside, bowed to Windwolf, and glanced at Lookingbill. His white hair gleamed in the faint lamplight.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Dipper wanted me to tell you that the ceremonial is over and the feast has begun.”
Lookingbill nodded. “Tell Dipper I will be there shortly.”
“I should be going, too,” Windwolf said as he rose and checked his weapons. “Should you decide to do this, I need to send word to my warriors.”
Lookingbill grunted as he got to his feet. The lamp cast his shadow on the rear wall like a black ghost. “You should stay for the night. I have many extra hides in my chamber. You are welcome to—”
“No, Chief, though I appreciate your generosity. My presence here only endangers you and your people. I must go.”
Trembler said, “Please, come to my chamber first. I will fill your pack with food for the trip back.”
“That’s not necessary, but I thank you.”
Trembler shrugged, stepped out into the darkness, and Windwolf heard the old man’s steps move away up the trail.