Lichen had to breathe through her mouth or the fine red fox hairs that had glued themselves inside her nose made her sneeze. It gave her voice a nasal quality. "Bird-Man? I don't like this any more than you do, but it looks like we've got to do it, so why don't you come and bring the Spirit Wolves? Bird-Man, Bird-Man ..."
Her chant became a singsong. She called for what seemed an eternity, until her soul felt numb and her body had gone past aching. Her neck burned so badly that she feared it might snap in two if she moved.
Shadows clung in black welts along the ceiling. The flames had died down long ago, leaving freckled red eyes to glare at Lichen.
She shifted to bring up her knees, feeling sneaky since Wanderer had told her to lie on her stomach. But she conscientiously kept her mouth pressed over the cedar. "Bird-Man? Remember when you said that I needed to learn to see through the eyes of a bird, a human, and a snake? Well, Wanderer's been trying to teach me how."
The Power symbols on the walls peered dismally at her, looking through the eyes of Spirits long accustomed to failed Dreamers.
I'm trying. Spiral. Can you help me? The Symbols stayed mute, hostile, wishing she would go away, trying to lull her to sleep. Antlered monsters who lived under water lurked just beyond the horizon of her drooping eyelids, secreting themselves in the brooding shadows of her thoughts. She dared not sleep.
"Bird-Man? Why won't you come?"
She slid out flat again, in the manner of Ground Squirrel sunning himself on a log. The tuft of branches beneath her chin made a lump under the sleekness of the worn hides. Lichen blinked lazily at the coral threads of light reflecting on the wall.
"Bird-Man ..." Gritting her teeth, she growled, "Bird-Man, Bird-Man, Bird-Man!"
A lonely wolf barked sharply, trying to locate its pack in the gloom of midnight. From across the bluff, answering yips echoed. The first wolf let out a delighted howl, and a chorus rose in eerie cadence. Lichen yawned deeply. Her tired body floated on the sound, rocking like a leaf in a peaceful stream. The padding of paws approached with the gentle rhythm of sacred drumbeats, soothing, echoing . . .
A whisper of sound came from the branches beneath the hide. Lichen stiffened, too afraid to move. Timidly, she called, "Bird-Man?"
"I hear you. Little One. I brought the wolves."
Lichen heard an animal snuffle. She twisted around and saw two huge black faces silhouetted in the door. They had pushed the hanging aside with their noses. A fiery sheen glowed in their yellow eyes. One of the wolves took a step into the room, a paw lifted, waiting.
Lichen got to her knees. Her throat had gone as dry as Cottonwood leaves in the dusty radiance of autumn. Frightened, she croaked, "Can you harness them for me, Bird-Man?"
"Yes, if you think you re ready."
"Don't you?"
"You've sprouted the wings of a Dreamer, but they're wet and frail. The journey will be hard on you."
Lichen swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. "I have to learn sometime, Bird-Man."
"Yes, but you're so young. And brave. All right. Come down through the tunnel. Come. I'll be waiting for you, Lichen."
The wolves padded across the floor, their nails clicking on the stone, and dipped their muzzles through the nooses that Wanderer had braided from his own hair.
She took a last look at Wanderer's slack old face. His mouth hung open. Softly, she called, "I found Bird-Man, Wanderer. I'll try to come back to you."
The wolves lifted their snouts and gazed at her. One wagged its tail as though waiting for instructions. Lichen gripped the side poles of her death litter in tight fists. "Let's go."
The blackness rippled around her as they dove.
Fifteen
Checkerberry's ancient voice droned on to the accompaniment of precocious giggles. Surrounded by twelve children under the age of ten, the old woman seemed truly happy. For the first time in weeks, her withered cheeks glowed pink, drawing attention away from her bulbous nose and hunched back. She had pulled her gray hair into a neat bun and fastened it with tortoiseshell combs. Her orange dress added brightness to the overall effect.
Green Ash shifted miserably on the thick cushion of blankets near the front door of Primrose's house. Because berdache were technically female, the Blue Blanket Clan had given this plot of land and the adjacent fields to Primrose. Locust, his "husband," had moved here and now worked the fields for the clan—on rare occasions, given her obligations to the Woodpecker Warrior Clan.
Ordinarily the children's laughter would have brought Green Ash joy, but not today. Over the past week, her pain had grown to incapacitating levels, and the birthing women had been unable to ease it. She distracted herself by watching Primrose huddle over the central firepit, stirring a soup of ground com mixed with the green leaves of lamb's quarter and flavored with mint. He wore a simple tan dress with fringed sleeves, but his long hair glimmered with seashells.