People of the Wolf(106)

By the time she made the bottoms, stringers of snow began angling diagonally across before her. The dot that marked the struggling figure vanished in the streamers of white.

"This is foolish," she grumbled under her breath. "Should have waited for the others."

Still, she plodded, swinging her broad snowshoes wide in • the waddling walk necessary to keep from barking shins and tripping over herself.

How far? Green Water kept going, aware of the added mass in her belly. The baby slowed her, made her awkward.

She stopped, searching this way and that. Could she have turned? Checking the position of Father Sun against the time she'd spent, she looked again at the angle of the blowing snow before backsighting on Heron's ridge.

"Must be farther." She sighed and caught her breath before trudging on.

"Fox?" she hollered into the snow glaze. "Are you there?"

Nothing came but the whisper of snow blowing over the rippling sastrugi.

Green Water checked the slant of Father Sun in the sky. The baby shifted inside. Her legs had begun to ache. How long to get back? An hour and a half? Two? She hesitated, torn.

"Did you really see anyone out here?" she wondered aloud.

Racked by indecision, she found it easier to continue, fear

eating at her for every step she took beyond the relative safety of the camp.

"And what if it was one of the Others you saw? What if Dancing Fox is long dead and you're walking right into a thrown dart point? What then?" she growled to herself, striding on, wishing she'd waited for One Who Cries. Wind Woman blew harder, the landmarks on the horizon obscured in the shifting curtain of wind-driven snow.

"Fox? Anyone?" She cupped her hands, calling again and again. "Who's there?"

Nervously, she ran her tongue around her mouth, shaking her head. Father Sun cast angling shadows through the ground blizzard, Wind Woman's temperamental gusts coming ever stronger.

Green Water stared over her backtrail, seeing her tracks filled in as she walked. Hunger tightened. Pregnancy did that. It chafed at the belly constantly, drained her of energy.

She called again into the wind and looked around. "No way I'll make it back before dark," she mumbled. The tiny irritation of fear fed on her hopelessness.

She turned, circling.

Faint, a slight mew caught her ear. She cocked her head. "Dancing Fox?"

Nothing. She started back, the ache of overstressed leg muscles leaving a trembling in her hips. She stopped, turning again into the north, walking back over her tracks. Indecision tormented her. She had heard that faint sound.

"You're killing your baby—and yourself," she spat hoarsely. "Go home."

But she shouted into the wind again. "Fox?"

"Here."

Faint, ever so faint. Green Water shuffled forward hurriedly, heart leaping. "Where?"

"Here. " The voice came from upwind.

A faint brown form emerged from the restless snow only to be obscured by another gust. Green Water hurried forward, panting, awkward with her distended belly.

"Fox?"

"Green Water?" Dancing Fox blinked up at her from sunken features. Snow crusted around her hood. She shook

her head weakly. "Are you real? Not part of... of a Dream, or something?''

Green Water smiled and dropped to her knees, taking Fox's hand, squeezing it hard. "There, you feel that? Would a Dream squeeze you like that?"

Dancing Fox's forehead lined with confusion as she looked at her snow-caked mittens. "I ... I don't know. I don't understand much anymore. Can't think too good. Get confused. Just go south, that's all. Lost the trail."

Green Water patted her on the shoulder. "Well, I saw you. You're almost there. Come on, One Who Cries will have everyone out looking. It's almost dark and I'm not home. He's a worrier when I'm in trouble."

Dancing Fox nodded loosely, head bobbing. "You have any food? Can't hardly walk anymore."

Green Water helped her up only to have Fox crumble in a heap, crying in pain.

"What's wrong?" She bent down, staring into Dancing Fox's lined face.

"Forgot for a moment." She stared up stupidly. "Hurt my ankle. Slipped on a rock a week ago. Hurts. Hurts worse than anything I've ever done to myself. Aches when I try and sleep. Like lances of fire when I walk."

"A week ago? And you're still traveling?"

For a moment, a sharp look filled Fox's face. "Cursed right, I am. You see a lot of choice out here?" Then her eyes lost focus.

"How long since you've eaten?"

Fox's brow lined again as she stared into the snow, thinking hard. "I don't know. Found a dead caribou. Nothing but bones . . . about two weeks ago, maybe. Ate the marrow. Then there was nothing . . . but snow . . . and wind. You know how Wind Woman is ... mad, blowing . . . always . . . blowing. ..." Her voice drifted away.