Near one of the sandstone outcrops, eyes glinted: silver flashes in the starlight. A dog’s eyes? As the animal lifted its head, dark pointed ears appeared. But they didn’t twitch, didn’t move at all. Dead ears.
Then they were gone. Only the quivering of a winter-bare branch marked the presence.
An instant later, Sleeper scrambled down the slope with three men following closely behind him.
The war chief’s cape seemed to spread like protective wings as he dropped to his knees. “Where did he go, Chert? Did you see him?”
Chert’s mouth had gone as dry as dust. “Just … eyes … ears … there.” He weakly tipped his chin and whispered, “Coyote.”
Sleeper waved to the outcrop. “Crater, take Kit Fox. Go.”
The warriors scrambled in pursuit.
Chert stared at Sleeper. He’d never understood why the man had never married. He had rugged, chiseled features, and his gray temples sparkled. He’d come to Deer Meadow Village two summers ago, and many women had offered themselves to him. Matron Red Kestrel said his heart still bled over the deaths of his family, but …
“Sorry,” Chert managed to whisper before blood came bubbling up his throat, shutting off his air.
Sleeper clasped Chert’s hand in a hard warrior’s grip. “It’s not your fault. Somehow they’ve discovered us. The fault is mine.”
A warm floating sensation filled Chert. He might have been a feather, rising into the air.
Sleeper drew Chert’s hand to his chest and held it.
Chert looked at the Star People until they became fixed white dots … .
The storm blew down from the northwest, dull and gray. Streamers of cloud bunched against the cliffs and shredded into misty fingers that drifted through the trees. During the night snow had turned into a cold rain that whispered as it fell on Sandy Point Village. Somehow it was colder. The chill seemed to suck the heat out of the fires, and even snuggling deep into the robes didn’t help.
So it was that a shivering Rain Bear threw back his bedding, crawled over to his door, and looked out at the predawn village. Through the graying light he could make out new rivulets that ran down the trails and melted the patches of snow. A soft melody of raindrops pattered on his roof.
He turned a longing gaze on Evening Star’s small lodge. Hornet stood by her door, head bowed under a thickly greased hide.
“He looks as miserable as I feel,” Rain Bear muttered, and blew to see his breath mist white in front of him. His chilly sleep had been haunted with the knowledge that Evening Star slept so close, yet so far away. In his half-wakened fantasy, her smooth body had molded against his. Warm and soft, she had wrapped herself around him, her legs locking behind his knees; her blue eyes burned into his. The moment his hard penis slid into her warm sheath, his loins had exploded in a tingling rush that brought him wide awake.
How long had it been since any Dream woman but Tlikit had done that to him?
Rain Bear hooked his door hanging on a peg and sank down to brace his back against the frame. Cool wind Danced with the rain, and swept patterns over the village. It brought him the scents of wet earth and conifers. People had trickled in from the trails, shouting about the atrocity at War Gods Village, for much of the night. Whimpers still seeped from a few lodges beyond the screening of trees that separated him from the rest of the village.
Today, people were in shock, overcome by grief. Tomorrow, their hearts would be kindling the fires of revenge.
He could not allow petty attacks against the North Wind People. It would keep the enemy on alert and rapidly deplete his forces. They had to save their strength, build it for one fierce blow.
Five paces away, Rides-the-Wind threw back his lodge flap and crawled out. He wore a woven spruce-root hat and cape that shed the rain. The old man shivered and walked back under the trees to relieve himself. When he tottered back, he stopped, thoughtful gaze fixed on Evening Star’s lodge. He stood a long while, just looking.
Thinking what? Rain Bear wondered. Surely she didn’t fill the old man’s Dreams the same way she filled his. Longing grew within him as the Dream replayed in his memory. His lips still burned from the fleeting contact with her skin the night before.
Their three lodges sat in a triangle around the firepit. Rain Bear had originally selected the spot because a fifty-hand-tall cliff rose behind his lodge. He’d thought the cliff would make it harder for some sneaky North Wind warrior to creep up on him in the night. It would never have occurred to him that he might some day purposely surround himself with North Wind People.
An odd turn of events.
Rain Bear pulled his rain cape and conical hat from the pegs on the bark wall, then grabbed a handful of dry kindling from the woodpile beside his door. He used two sticks to lever a glowing coal from his fire and eased out into the morning.