"Tell me what's wrong?"
"I love you." His voice cracked.
Joy and relief swelled inside her. "And I love you." She let him go, sliding closer to him, so close she smelled his masculine scent. She searched his handsome face. "Is that wrong?"
The muscles in his jaw leapt and quivered. "You're the only thing between me and the Dream."
She blinked. "Between?"
"Back in Mammoth Camp, I didn't know what the Wolf Dream meant. How it would change me ... or the People, Now I've seen. I've learned to Dream."
She lifted a hand to stroke his smooth cheek. He flinched, closing his eyes. "And you'll save the People."
"Maybe."
"But I've heard you found the hole in the ice?"
"It won't be enough."
"What?" She crossed her arms, trying to still the turmoil inside. Hurt, confusion, love, pain, hope; it all mixed, un-sorted, leaving her heart hammering, blood pumping hot in her veins. From the contorted expression on Light's face he wasn't doing much better.
"I . . . can't let myself, my personal wants, get in the way of Dreaming the People to safety far in the south." A gleam - lit his dark eyes as he stared at her. "There's a beautiful land there."
"What are you saying?"
"The only way to Dream—to really Dream—is to lose yourself in the One. To go beyond the motions of the Dance."
"You're babbling nonsense. What does this have to do with our love for each other?"
He deflated like a punctured walrus-bladder float, puffing
his cheeks out as he blew a futile breath. "Nonsense? That's what I told Heron once. I didn't understand. How can I expect you to?"
"Tell me, do we have a future together?" Her voice trembled suddenly. "Or has some other woman taken your heart?"
"No one has. taken my heart but you."
"Then—"
"I've had to choose!" he shouted, then lowered his voice to a wretched whisper. "I've seen the end of the People. Without a Dreamer, we have no chance. Raven Hunter has swayed the People one way. I must sway them another."
A pounding desire built to hug him, hold him, soothe his unrest. "I'll help you."
"No." .
"But Dreaming isn't like some curse. Use your gifts to save the People, but—"
"It is a curse. It's like . . . like being born with a clubfoot or with a long nose. It's just the way things are. Because of that, I can't love."
"Why not? Didn't Heron ever love? I know the old stories about Bear Hunter."
"She . . ." He turned away, squeezing his eyes tightly closed.
Conflicting emotions warred. Exploit this hurt? Or cuddle him close, ease his pain, apologize. Frozen, she simply sat, paralyzed by the rending within.
"The man she loved killed her. Ask Broken Branch. She saw. Heron let herself love him for just a moment. But it made her lose the One and the mushrooms killed her."
Dancing Fox sat back, stunned by the haunted seriousness on his face. "You believe that my love will destroy you?"
"Yes." He shook his head as though trying to clear some deadly mental fog. "I've seen it happen to a woman with far greater Power than mine. I've chosen my ... No, I've been chosen by the way. The People must have a Dreamer.'"
Heart in her throat, she nodded slowly, that eternal emptiness yawning inside. "So, it's over? All this way, all this suffering . . . and you don't want me?"
At the pain in her words, his face twisted, a dull ache in his eyes. He whispered a dusty, "I'm sorry."
She nodded, standing, looking down while her soul screamed.
"Light?"
He looked up.
"Touch me, one last time." She reached for him.
He extended a hand, sympathy in his eyes. Only as their fingertips touched, something flickered across his face, as if a memory came unbidden from the recesses of his mind. He stiffened, staring at her in horror, face stricken, body going rigid.
"What?" she asked, pulling her hand back. "What's wrong?"
He turned away, burying his head in the white bear's hide. The sobs chilled her soul.
"Leave me!" he shouted.
Turning, she ripped through the hanging hide, running, heedless of her tender ankle. She almost bowled One Who Cries over, sprinting up the path, struggling to escape that last terrible memory of the horror reflected in his eyes.
Moon Water stretched her taut back muscles, wincing at the pain. From behind the veil of her hair, she watched her captors as they congregated around the young Dreamer. He was powerful for such a young man. The sight of the caribou coming to his calling had awed her. Despite the number of carcasses stretched out on the snow—and the work they entailed—the memory still brought a chill to her spine.