Oxbalm’s thick gray brows drew together over his bulbous nose. A faint sliver of Above-Old-Man’s face crept over the eastern horizon and sprinkled the sky with diamond fires. The light flowed into Oxbalm’s wrinkles, making him appear uncounted winters old. As he huffed and puffed up the steep slope, he threw Sumac an affectionate, if reproachful, look. “Then this Kestrel must have known that her lover’s relatives are fools for children.”
“Perhaps.”
Gladness swelled her chest. She timed her steps carefully, walking in stride with Oxbalm. It made both of them steadier. Maybe this little girl would fill the hole in their souls left by Mountain Lake’s death. Sumac reached over and drew the rabbit-fur hood up over the girl’s head to protect her from the night’s chill. The baby watched her through wide, unblinking eyes—strange eyes, so deep and bright they seem filled with the knowledge of eternity.
Oxbalm crested the hill and headed across the grass for the central fire. “Who will you ask to feed this infant, my wife?”
Sumac said, “Against the Clouds has a son about the age of this little girl. She has enough milk for two. She’s always complaining about how much milk she has. She’s been leaking all over her finest leathers. She’ll be glad to have another child to feed.”
Oxbalm stopped beside his cup near the fire and handed the child to Sumac. “You’re too kindhearted for your own good. Did you know that? If this is Kestrel’s daughter, we’d better keep quiet about it.”
She clutched the baby firmly. In the firelight, she could see Oxbalm’s eyes soften. Sumac smiled at him and patted the baby’s back. “Afraid you’ll have to go to war with the surrounding villages to protect her?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, then that’s the way of things. This little one needs a home. You know, you can’t have too many children around. It would be worth a war to give her a family.”
“Yes,” he sighed and put a tender hand on Sumac’s shoulder. “It might be.”
Wolf dreamer stood on top of a red ridge overlooking a canyon filled with crumbling stone villages. Around him, a dry, rough-hewn landscape spread. Deeply eroded plains stretched
as far as he could see, dotted with sandstone buttes that poked their square heads against the azure sky. Dusty drainages sliced meandering canyons through the vastness, marked by the serpentine lines of scrubby trees and brush.
The tang of sage drifted on the hot wind. Wolfdreamer inhaled deeply, letting it bathe his face in memories of a time when the scattered ruins below had housed thousands, and voices shouting “Hututu! Hututu!” had sundered the heavens to call the Rain God from the sky.
Dressed in a wealth of colored feathers and copper bells, Wolfdreamer had walked with men here. The People had sprinkled his path with blue cornmeal and Sung his praises while shaking their deer bone rattles. In return, he had showered them with the richest of life’s gifts… rain.
Now only field mice, snakes, scorpions and. coyotes roamed the crumbling ruins in this empty canyon.
Wolfdreamer braced a hand against the boulder beside him and studied Sunchaser.
The Dreamer knelt in the middle of the disintegrating plaza below. His white hair stirred in the wind that swept the faces of the sheer canyon walls. Sunchaser’s eyes focused on the huge,-five-storied building that curved around him like the cold arm of a dead lover. His face had gone slack with wonder, as though he could see beyond the desolation to the great civilization that had once thrived here.
“Do you see the ghosts, Sunchaser? Can you hear their voices?”
Wolfdreamer could. He saw the men leaning against the clay-washed faces of the buildings, knapping out arrow points, and the women sitting in the plaza, talking as they rolled out clay and coiled it into beautiful pots. He could hear the gobbling of the tamed turkeys that strutted the grounds and the laughter of the children who had once raced so freely through the cool shadows of this monumental village.
Nevertheless, he had chosen this time—when they had been dead for over two centuries—to teach his lesson.
Wolfdreamer had arrived before Dawn Child awoke. But he’d left Sunchaser alone. The Dreamer had wandered the ruins like a little boy, running, calling out, exploring the thousands of rooms within walking distance… and finally he had returned here to fall on his knees and stare in awe at the crumbling magnificence. He’d Sung for a while, beautiful lilting Songs, calling forth the shreds of Power that lurked in the fallen stones, gathering them around him like a transparent fortress wall.
Then the Dreamer had gone quiet… Wolfdreamer walked the trail that led over the crest of the ridge and wound down into the canyon. The shell bells on his moccasins clicked melodiously, while the long fringes on his mammoth hide shirt and pants patted out a muted rhythm. He’d braided his long black hair into a single plait that hung down to the middle of his back.