Wolf Dreamer and Raven Hunter were once One. But the instant they became two, evil entered the world … .
It is the Dream Rift.
The instant of becoming homeless.
I must return to that instant before the Rift became.
Twelve
Skimmer watched a great gray owl soar through the darkness overhead. Beneath her drawn-up knees, Ashes lay in a deep sleep. Skimmer let her leaden arm drop to gently stroke the little girl’s exposed toes. The freezing temperatures had sapped what little strength she and Ashes had left.
Wind Woman whipped across the walls, peppering the crowd with sand, but no one moaned; no one moved. A deadly hush had fallen over the enclosure, as though every prisoner held her breath. When would War Chief Windwolf come? When?
As dawn neared, a deep blue halo arced over the eastern horizon, and she heard the monotonous drone of voices outside, people speaking with Sunpath accents. This was the most holy night of their lives, and they were not in their own villages at the ceremonial celebrations.
“Do you think they know we’re here?” old Yellow Woman asked in surprise.
Her gray hair had turned dark from the dirt and blowing dust. She looked at Skimmer through sleepless eyes. Beside her, her niece—a girl named Mink—stood numbly. Skimmer hadn’t heard her murmur a single word in two days. Her hope seemed as dead as the pile of corpses in the rear.
“Of course they know,” Skimmer answered. “They have given up on their people and joined the Nightland to follow the Prophet’s Dream.”
She rubbed her gritty eyes. And perhaps I should, too.
Yellow Woman rubbed a grimy hand over her face. “I can’t believe I’m awake. How can our own people allow us to be tortured this way?”
“As long as they can turn their heads, they don’t care.”
She thought of the Lame Bull People and Lookingbill, and wondered what he would think when the Nightland warriors came for his loved ones. A flicker of anger burned through her.
But for you, none of this would have happened. But then, even now, she understood the hesitation. She’d seen it enough among her own people back in the beginning. It was someone else’s problem. Why twist the lion’s tail?
Yellow Woman shook her head. “For three summers we’ve been fighting to keep the old ways … the ways of kindness. And now no one cares what happens to us? Those are our relatives out there!”
As if to reinforce her words, echoes of laughter carried on the night wind.
“Are they?” Skimmer asked.
Yellow Woman’s eyes roamed the foreboding pole walls around them. “How can you ask such a thing? Of course they are. All Sunpath People are brothers and sisters.”
“The world has changed since the coming of the Prophet. The word ‘family’ now only applies to those who follow him. Today, even cousins turn their heads.”
A mammoth trumpeted from somewhere in the distance, and every head turned to listen to the sacred animal. Whispers broke out. It was so rare to hear them these days. In her mind, Skimmer pictured the animal standing in the starlight with its trunk up.
A bitter voice within asked, How did it get so close? It is a sign of Nightland arrogance that even a mammoth can wander in without discovery.
The mammoth trumpeted again, and its lilting cry penetrated clear to her soul.
Is it the Last Mammoth signaling Raven Hunter’s return?
“Our people are bewitched,” Yellow Woman said softly. “It’s the Prophet’s work. He steals their souls. He has some kind of magic that—”
“He’s not a witch,” Skimmer insisted. “People flock to him because he promises he’ll lead them back down into the paradise of the Long Dark, where Raven Hunter is waiting to embrace them. Few believe in Wolf Dreamer any longer. He’s abandoned us too many times.”
“That makes me sad. The only thing we have left is Wolf Dreamer and Old Man Above.”
“You still believe? After this?”
“Of course. Don’t you see? Wolf Dreamer and Old Man Above must know we have faith in them. This is a test. We’ve no right to hate Old Man Above or Wolf Dreamer. Like a father punishing his child, every instant of pain has a reason, to teach us something. It’s a sign of love. It hurts Wolf Dreamer as much as it does us.”
“Wolf Dreamer is dead!” she shouted bitterly. “He died here, this very day! If he ever existed.” Her heart was pounding. Did she believe that? Was her faith one more thing to add to the growing pile of dead in the back corner?
Tears welled in the old woman’s eyes. “Do you know that this torture isn’t the greatest horror to the old people?” She waved a hand at the death-scented enclosure. “This passes. The greatest horror is that Wolf Dreamer no longer lives in the souls of the young. I can endure. But you losing your faith … that leaves my soul weeping in despair.”