“She’s fine. So far. And we had better pray that Above Old-Man keeps her that way. She’s gone all over the village cooking, cleaning, caring for the grieving.”
“Standing Moon is a good woman.”
Good Plume nodded and lowered her hands to her lap. She rubbed her joints as though the old bones ached miserably. When she scrutinized Sunchaser, firelight flowed into her wrinkles, making her look a thousand summers old. “People miss you,” she said gently. “Everyone has been asking about you. Singing day and night, praying for the Evil Spirits to let you go. People need you. They think you’re a better Healer than I am.”
He smiled feebly. “Then they are all fools.”
“You are much loved, Sunchaser. If you up and die on them, they’ll never forgive you.”
“I’m better, Good Plume. Stronger. Really—”
“Your fever is very high, and the Evil Spirits have held you now for three days. If we can’t pray the fever away tonight, I fear for you.”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “It’s not that bad. I just… I’m so c-cold, Good Plume.” A shudder went through him that made his teeth chatter. He tugged weakly at his hides, pulling them up around his throat. “Aren’t there any m-more hides?”
Good Plume rose and went to a pile of folded skins in the rear of the lodge. She carried them back and spread them out over Sunchaser, then tenderly tucked the edges in around him.
Still, he could not stop shivering.
Good Plume’s ancient face darkened. “I must pour some hot soup into you. Stay awake for me.”
She crossed to the cooking tripod where the hide bag of soup hung and moved it closer to the hearth. Using two sticks, she picked up four of the small rocks that sat on the coals at the fire’s edge and dropped them into the bag. Steam exploded upward. A silver wreath encircled her face: While she searched for wooden bowls, Sunchaser said, “I … I must get well, Good Plume. The Mammoth Spirit Dance will start at Otter Clan Village in five days.”
The Dance was held every moon at one of three villages: Brushnut, Whalebeard or Otter Clan. That way, people from up and down the coast as well as from the mountain villages wouldn’t have far to go if they wanted to attend three or four Dances a cycle. The Dances brought great numbers of people together. Many of them walked for days to reach the village where the Dance was being held. And Sunchaser tried very hard to attend each Dance. But sometimes, like this moon, he just couldn’t do it. Perhaps Oxbalm, leader of the Otter Clan, would delay the Dance? Waiting for Sunchaser? Occasionally it happened that way. But not often. And Oxbalm couldn’t delay the Dance for more than a week, because people would begin leaving. Oxbalm couldn’t make them wait just to see if Sunchaser might come.
“Yes,” Good Plume said, “that’s right. And if you are not there, old Catchstraw will lead the Dance.”
“He’s led it m-many times before, Aunt. He’s not as bad as you think. But I… I’ve missed so many Dances. I should be there. Though Catchstraw tries very hard, he is just not—”
“Do you really believe he tries hard?” Good Plume grunted and walked back to the fire with two bowls and a wooden cup. Scowling, she dipped the cup and filled the bowls. “Have the mammoths grown more numerous with him leading the Dances? Hmm? No. None of them want to come back from the Land of the Dead if they think he’ll be the Dreamer to greet them. People wouldn’t attend the Dance either if they knew in advance that Catchstraw would be Dancing.”
Sunchaser’s stomach cramped. Guilt weighted him down like a black wall of earth. “That’s my fault. I should be
out walking the t-trails, telling people that it’s the Dance that is important. They think they need me there, but that is not—”
“Sunchaser,” Good Plume said as she set a bowl of soup on the floor beside him, “you try to help too many at once. No matter who asks you to come to their village, you go. You use every shred of your Power for others and save none for yourself.” Spirals of steam rose from the bowl.
“I can’t tell people that I won’t come… not when they are frightened or ill. Someone must give them hope.”
Good Plume removed one of the deer hides from Sun chaser’s chest, folded it and tucked it beneath his head to prop him up. As she tipped the bowl of warm soup to his lips, she said, “It’s all right to care about people, Sunchaser, but you must not let your concern disrupt your Dreaming. If you do, in the end even the people you have cared for the most deeply will hate you for it. Dreaming is the only way you can really help them, and they know it.”