He glanced out at the slumbering warriors.
Her lips turned up wryly. “It’s not as if they didn’t already guess. Besides, we’ll stay dressed. If I’m half as tired as you look, neither one us will have the energy for anything but sleep.”
He nodded, loosened his cape, pulled off his moccasins, and climbed under the thick buffalo robe beside her.
For long moments, they held each other, the combined warmth of their bodies leaching the misery out of his bones and muscles.
“We made better time than I thought we would,” she said.
“We got a break in the weather. If it had been snowing, we’d have covered half the ground.”
She tightened her hold on him. “Will we make Whispering Waters Spring in time?”
“I think.” He filled his lungs and tried to exhale the tension inside him. “So many things could go wrong.”
“For Cimmis as well,” she reminded. “It’s up to the gods.”
He reached up, running his fingers along the curve of her soft cheek. “If we live, will you be my wife?”
She hesitated. “You’re a Dreamer.”
“As long as I can Dream you.”
She smiled, and he felt the foggy warm sensation of sleep creeping through his soul.
Yes, enjoy this. If you know nothing else, it’s that you have this one moment of bliss. After tomorrow, you may have nothing but eternity.
Fifty-seven
Pitch jerked awake and stared around the lodge, his heart hammering. In the faint glow of the fire, he could see Dzoo where she sat upright, a sea-grass blanket over her shoulders. From the blank expression on her face and wide glassy eyes she might have been seeing something far distant across time and space.
He was starting back to sleep when he heard the voice: a hollow whisper. He could barely make it out, the words unintelligible. Sitting up, he frowned.
“Dzoo?”
At his call, the voice stopped short.
Dzoo raised a warning hand; her face remained slack, emotionless.
The faintest rustling came from behind the wall, as if hide clothing had scuffed the bark.
“Who was that?” Pitch demanded.
“Coyote.”
Pitch blinked and felt his heart skip. “He’s here? Just outside the lodge?”
“Oh, yes,” she said simply. “He comes and goes. Mostly, he just listens at the wall. Tonight he came to warn me.”
“Warn you of what?”
Her eyes moved; then her face began to melt into a ghastly smile. “That our joining approaches.”
“Dzoo, we have to get out of here. Given the choice of Cimmis or Coyote, I’d rather take my chances dying while trying to escape.”
“There is no escape,” she said simply. “Ever since Antler Spoon’s village, I’ve been working to lure him ever closer.”
Before Pitch could ask, shouts came from outside. “Now what?” he muttered.
He reached for his shirt. As he slipped it over his head, the voices grew louder. He was already on his feet when a warrior threw back the door flap.
“Grab your things!” He was young, skinny, with a melon-shaped skull.
“Why? What’s happening?”
“We’re leaving Fire Village.”
“Now? In the middle of the night?” Pitch stood and tied his pouch to his belt. “I thought we were leaving at dawn.”
“Hurry. The chief wants us out of Fire Village within one finger of time.”
Dzoo was still smiling her eerie smile. Gods, was she actually looking forward to this? Pitch swung his cape around his shoulders and ducked beneath the door flap. Another warrior, older, with hard eyes, stood outside.
“Follow me,” the man said, and turned to walk up the trail.
Some of the warriors carried torches, which illuminated a knot of people who stood near the palisade gate.
Pitch leaned toward Dzoo, whispering, “I still think we should make a break for it.”
The young guard prodded Pitch’s back with a spear. “Quiet. Walk.”
Pitch walked.
Star People glittered across the midnight sky with an icy crystalline brightness. In the plaza, people hugged each other, and he heard weeping as they said good-bye to this place that had been their home.
A coil of gray smoke rose from the dying plaza fire and trailed across Fire Village like a sleepy serpent. The air smelled pungently of burning sagebrush.
“Stop at the gate. The great chief is coming.”
Pitch stopped and glanced at Dzoo. In the faint light, he could still see that enigmatic smile. It brought a shiver up his back. Through the gate Salmon Village was visible farther down the mountain slope. Distant warriors bore torches—but pinpricks of light—while people trotted around the palisade, carrying litters and bundles.