People of the River(157)

On the far side of the group, a big, handsome man leaned wearily against the shaggy roof. Tears traced lines through the dust on his face. An old white-haired woman stood beside him, staring at him intently.

The old woman said, "I don't care what you think. Nettle. This is no simple matter. Who will we find to nurse those babies? Do you think just anybody will be willing to—"

"Stop, please. Nit," the man pleaded. He dropped his head into his hands. "I'll find a way. I don't know how, but I will. Right now I'm more worried about Primrose. Green Ash cried for him all of last night, and none of us can gain admittance to even discuss it with the Sun Chief."

"Tharon has lost his mind. Everyone says so. Get used to the idea that you may never again see Primrose ..."

Lichen turned cold inside. Tharon had gone crazy? And she was supposed to go into the te-nple, where he lived?

She reached an intersection of pathways, and to her left, at the end of long lines of houses, she saw the clay-plastered walls of the palisades. Men lounged along the shooting platforms, their bows and quivers slung over their shoulders.

Lichen's soul shriveled. Fear grew with each beat of her heart.

Tightly, she whispered, "What if those warriors won't let me in? If those grown-ups couldn't get in, how can I?"

"Bird-Man waits for you there ..."

“I don't understand anything anymore. I wish . . . I wish my mother were here. Oh, Foxfire, I'm only ten.

"So was I. I was ten when Power called ..."

In the back of her soul, she could hear Mammoth Calf trumpeting as he tried to run, the long arrows in his body shaking like perverse quills. The village vanished for a moment, and Lichen again watched Manmioth Calf fall to his knees and roll over in the field of snow.

The Stone Wolf radiated warmth against Lichen's chest. "I—^I'm going. Wolf," she murmured.

Lichen plodded forward until she reached the gate. Six guards strolled near it. She stopped before a tall man with copper beads woven into his braided forelocks. He peered down at her as though annoyed.

In a quaking voice. Lichen said, "I need to see Nightshade, please."

The warrior's mouth pursed unpleasantly. "The priestess is busy, girl."

"Yes, I know, but could you tell her that Wolf Slayer gave me a message for her?"

The warrior stiffened. The other men, who had been talking together, fell silent. Lichen tried not to think about the looks they were giving her—as sharp as flakes of obsidian.

The tall warrior propped callused hands on his hips, hands that looked suspiciously like a farmer's instead of a warrior's. "What do you know of Wolf Slayer?"

"I talked to him in the Underworld. He—" she twisted her hands nervously "—he seemed nice."

The men burst into laughter. One bent over, holding his stomach. But the tall warrior did not laugh. His eyes narrowed reflectively.

"Why would the creatures of the Underworld let a little girl like you into the Land of the Ancestors?"

Lichen shrugged. The Stone Wolf tugged powerfully at the thong around her throat. She gazed down at the bump it made beneath her green dress. "I—I guess because I'm the Keeper of the Stone Wolf."

That wasn't quite true. Her mother was really the Keeper. Unless . . . NOy don't think about your mother. That hurts too much.

The warrior's eyes widened. "The Stone Wolf of Redweed Village? The one Badgertail was sent to steal? Where is it? Let me see it!"

Lichen pulled on the thong and brought the little black Wolf out to hold it in her palm. It glinted in the diminishing light.

The warrior took a step backward, as though he could feel the Power that poured from the Wolf. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Lichen watched him disappear behind the palisades. The log gate slid into place with a loud bang.

She glanced at the other warriors, who were studying her with fear in their eyes, then walked a short distance and slumped down on a patch of grass. The dry blades crackled beneath her weight.

Lichen drew up her knees and propped her chin on them. The red spirals on her tattered hem looked pathetic. They made her heart ache for Wanderer. She remembered his pride when she had returned from the Underworld covered with the strange grasses that grew at the bottom of the river there.

"I'm here. Wanderer," she whispered. "I came, just like you—and Foxfire—said I had to. But I'm scared."

Suddenly a different thought possessed her, leading her to think of that long-ago day when Wanderer had jumped from the rock overhang to throw rocks at his own shadow. "I wish you'd come earlier. Lichen. I wouldn't have wasted all morning ..."

Lichen smiled, but tears filled her eyes. Lonely. So lonely.

The gate grated open, and Lichen jumped to her feet.