He focused the eye of his Dream Soul, and saw her—a shadow behind the red glow.
Who are you?
“I have been called differently by different Dreamers. In the beginning I was ‘Spirit Woman’ to some. ‘Witch’ to others. Wolf Dreamer knew me by the name of old Heron. Other names have come and gone through the passing of ages.”
What are you doing here?
“I heard you call, boy. It happens, with the ones who have Power.”
I called you?
“Not by name,” she told him.
He could see her now. She didn’t look like the old woman her voice suggested, but beautiful, with gleaming black eyes that danced with internal light. Sharp cheekbones made soft angles over her full mouth and delicate chin. Hair, in a raven wealth, tumbled from her head and pooled around her shoulders before spilling down to her waist. Her high breasts and narrow waist were partially hidden by a white bearhide that she draped around her naked flanks.
You are beautiful!
“Not as beautiful as Broken Branch was.” She smiled, and he felt his souls soaring. “I can appear as I please. For the moment, it pleases me to appear as I was, before I tripped over love and fell facefirst into the Dream.”
Are you one of the Sky Beings?
“Older.” She stepped closer in a fluid grace. “I was there at the beginning. I have been here since, tied to Power. I came before First Woman, before First Man. I was there before Runs In Light Dreamed the Wolf. I have Sung the Sacred Bundles, and watched the world change. I have seen the final Dance of the mammoth, mastodon, sloth, and short-faced bear. I have loved and cursed the People, and tricked and beguiled the Dreamers as they came and went. I have Danced between the Hero Twins.” She smiled, and the radiance of it melted his heart. “As you now Dance between them.”
You mean Masked Owl and Many Colored Crow?
“They, too, have had many names.” She cocked her head, exposing her perfect throat. “Who are you, boy?”
Salamander.
“You are aptly named.” Her dark gaze sharpened like obsidian. “Powerful, boy. The golden haze of the mushrooms surrounds you. Dangerous things, mushrooms. They live off Death, grow out of rot and corruption. They are rebirth, Salamander. Treat them with respect. Never toy with them. The most Powerful Dreaming of all comes of Dancing with the mushrooms. Unless you become the One, they will kill you.”
Sick. So sick. Pain is tying knots in my body. My bones and muscles ache. My souls … they are floating up into Death.
“Why did you wish to Dance with brother mushroom? What were you trying to do, Salamander?”
I wanted to Dream. To fly on Masked Owl’s wings. I wanted a vision! To see the channels of the future. I must know why Masked Owl gave me such gifts—and killed my brother. Why did Many Colored Crow warn me? What does Power want of me? How can I do what is right when I don’t know what Power wants?
She was so close now, he could almost reach out and touch her. He had never seen skin so beautiful, soft, and sleek. Her perfect round breasts rose and fell behind the white bear’s hide. “Do you ask for yourself, for your own gain? Is it glory you seek? Fame? Authority or prestige?”
I just need to understand, Heron! That is all. I want to know what to do. What is right. For everyone.
“My poor young Dreamer, are you truly so naive? People are good and evil at the same time, in the same breath, in a single heartbeat. Justice for one is injustice for another.”
Would you help me?
“What would you give for my help?” She gave him a predatory stare.
Fear stabbed through him. Whatever you asked.
“Would you give your life? Would you let me destroy you? What if I say I will help, and let brother mushroom take you here, now? Alone? Will you give me your souls here, in the darkness?”
How did he answer that? How could he do the right thing if he were dead? How could he make things better if he didn’t understand? How could he find the One?
“Ah, the One? That is a different matter entirely.” She laughed, the sound so musical his souls ached at the beauty. “You are not even close to finding the One, Salamander. You have a long, long way to go.” Her expression saddened. “And no one among your people to teach you. Like me, you must find it on your own.”
Grief stung him.
Heron’s gleaming eyes ate through his souls, turning him inside out, seeing into the corners, behind his thoughts. Fear paralyzed him, and he cried out. In that instant, he felt himself vanishing, burning away under the heat of her blazing dark eyes.
She’s eating me! She is devouring my souls. Terror, horrible engulfing terror, filled him as she violated every corner of his souls, eviscerated his memories and thoughts, and inspected his most private fantasies. Bit by bit she tore pieces out of him the way a fisherman plucked guts from a catfish’s belly.