"Yes," she whispered.
Her pretty face, with its full lips and button nose, had gone as pale as clay. But her eyes gazed at him steadily. A luminous serenity lit their mahogany depths. "I fell into the river, Wanderer."
"You did? How did you get out?"
"I was . . . was drowning. I saw something in the waves. It came and slithered inside me."
She nodded. "Water Snake. I ... I got Water Snake's soul, Wanderer. Then ... I could swim to shore."
"Oh, that's good. Lichen. You wanted Water Snake's soul. How—"
"I saw Wolf Slayer. He came ... to ..."
"Wait, Lichen," he said gently, seeing how hard her words came. "You need to rest and eat. We'll talk about it when you're stronger."
Lichen's hand crept spiderlike across the floor until she could twine her fingers in his buckskin shirt. "I tried very hard ... to come back to you. I love you, Wanderer."
Tears welled in his faded eyes. "I love you, too. Lichen. You sleep now. When you wake up, we'll eat and talk."
The sweetness of roasting grouse pervaded the air. Wanderer crouched before the birds, turning their stick carefully on the tripod so they would cook on the other side. Lichen knelt on her knees before the firepit. He had bathed her and combed her long hair until it crackled. The green shirt with red spirals that draped her skinny body came from his ritual attire—^specially blessed by Raven Above. It hung down to her ankles.
She'd been quiet, deep in thought. Her dark eyes fixed on the sparkflies that glimmered beyond the doorway like Dancing suns. He had tied up the hanging so that the cool, rain-scented breeze could blow through the house. Raindrops patted softly in the dust outside. Not much, but enough to wet the world. The wind had died down to a rippling breeze. The richness of damp earth smelled so good, so soothing, that he longed to run out and Sing his thanks to Thunderbird. Any other night, he would have.
But he dipped a horn spoon into the pot of tea, stirring it for the twentieth time, waiting for Lichen to speak.
After every Power journey he'd ever undertaken, he had needed time to just sit and look at the world. Talking to Spirits did that. Left a Dreamer drained of physical vitality, but filled with a silence so profound it felt downy against the soul.
Wanderer rose and went to sift through the basket of phlox blossoms near the back wall. The delicate, flowery scent swirled up when he grasped a handful.
Lichen blinked. Slowly, she turned her head to gaze at him. Her eyes gleamed hke sunlight on snow. He smiled as he stirred the blossoms into the boiling blend of roots.
"I saw Wolf Slayer, Wanderer," she repeated softly.
"Did you? When?"
"After I swam to shore. He was sitting on the bank, waiting for me. He's beautiful. Wanderer. He glows like Father Sun."
Wanderer listened intently. He had never seen Woll Slayer—^but each Dreamer met different Spirit Helpers in th Underworld. Lichen had clasped her hands in her lap. She fumbled with them vulnerably. "And?"
"We sat by the river and talked. He told me things ..."
When her eyes went vacant, unblinking. Wanderer filled two wooden cups with tea, then slid the grouse from their* roasting stick and put them in clay bowls. He carried Lichen's over and set them by her knees. She didn't even seem aware of his closeness. He returned to pick up his own dinner and stretch out on his bed.
Gently, he said, "Tell me about the journey. Bird-Man came up through the mnnel in the cedar branches?"
"Yes. He brought the wolves for me. They put their muzzles into the nooses you made. Then . . . then we started down . . . into darkness."
Steam rose around Wanderer's face as he sipped his tea. "Eat, Lichen. We have lots of time."
She plucked a leg from her grouse and chewed it thoughtfully while her gaze touched each Power symbol on the walls. The spirals and purple starbursts listened especially intently tonight.
"The wolves had a hard time pulling the litter in the river. Wanderer."
"They always do. It's so deep and wide."
"And fast. It rushed so fast."
"So you fell in and had to turn back?"
She finished chewing and swallowed. "No. On the other bank, we started seeing signs of people. Footprints—"
He sat forward, shocked. "On the other side? I thought you fell into the river on the way across."
"No, on the way back."
Wanderer straightened slowly. She had made it across into the Land of the Ancestors and returned! At her age? Almost unbelievable. It had taken him eleven cycles to accomplish the feat.
"Anyway, we started seeing things like old firepits, aspen stumps with ax marks. And the trees, the trees. Wanderer! They were so tall, their tops disappeared into the clouds. That's when Bird-Man appeared. He soared down from the sky. He was so beautiful. His wings shone like a rainbow."