Would Buffalo guide his children through the ranks of Other hunters? Would Caribou? Or would they have to chase the occasional sheep in the high rocks, pray they could kill , enough of the sparse mammoths to keep the People hale and hearty. How would the game react to the increased pressure of the Others? And how would the Others react? What if they didn't relent? Didn't take time for the spring hunt? What sort of Renewal could the People provide if their bellies were gaunted by hunger?
Raven Hunter shoved himself gruffly to his feet to pace. He pulled his new parka tight and smiled. A prize taken from the Others, the parka served as a symbol of his war prowess. Now, looking around, he realized how much they'd come to be like the enemy, stealing their clothing, eating food they'd hunted, bedding their women. Curious, he ran his fingers down the finely stitched sleeve of the parka.
And, of all things, this year the elders had decided to break tradition and hold the Renewal far to the south—in Heron's valley. In the very home of his addled brother!
Worse, worse by far, how could he hold territory when his young men had to retreat so far south to Dance? The Others would flood to fill any spaces they vacated.
"Do the old fools think the Others care for our Renewal?" he'd raged, stamping back and forth. "How long to get there?
Weeks? And the Others are supposed to obligingly wait in their camps?"
Eagle Cries had lifted a shoulder. "But we must Dance. Remember what happened two Long Darks ago when we didn't? The Soul Eaters of the Long Dark punished us. Besides, don't forget the Others have their own clan gatherings. They, too, must Dance, trade, take care of their—"
"Then we should strike!" Raven Hunter smacked a knotted fist into a palm. "They'll be vulnerable at their Dances— just as we are at ours. It's the right time to sting them, push them back before they—"
"But the Renewal is—"
"I've heard enough!" Raven Hunter glowered about him. ''Who'll stay? Who'll fight for our lands?''
Around the circle, a few hands shot up. Some wavered hesitantly. The majority remained down.
A coldness worked along his spine. Careful. I can push them only so far. While they 'II follow me, they won't forget their precious Renewal. Is there an advantage in this? Some way I can discredit the elders through their shortsightedness at holding Renewal so far to the south ?
He filled his lungs, spreading his arms as he exhaled wearily. ' 'I know, I know. Without our Dancing, the souls of the animals may desert us." He chuckled dryly. "Quite a situation we're in, eh? If we don't pray and Dance the Renewal, the animals won't let us kill them. On the other hand, if we leave our territory and go south, we'll hand those very hunting grounds over to the Others."
He paused, searching their tight faces, seeing the blazing eyes, the grim mouths. Yes, these were warriors! His people! "So be it. We'll go south." He shook his head sadly. "And remember this next fall . . . remember who held Renewal so far from our lands. Some of you will die retaking what we will give up tomorrow. I hope those old men sing your souls well, my brothers and sisters, for they'll bear the responsibility."
And besides, this way I can find out the truth of the nonsense that's circulating about my idiot brother.
With the courage and stamina of her people, Moon Water trotted out into the plains, the horrors of the hole below the
ice lending speed to her tired feet. She would never forget that passage. The first time had been bad enough, buried there under the ice, only the faint bit of light ahead to guide her. The way back, alone with only the tremors of the ghosts as they groaned and wailed in the endless black, had been horror. No human word, no gesture had comforted her. When she stopped to sleep, it had been with fear, the whisperings in the dark growing louder around her as she cuddled the tiny fire to her bosom and prayed that the wretched ghosts would leave her be.
Now she ran, betting her speed and skill against the growing Long Light that she could reach the Mammoth People before the season of flies and mushy muskeg began.
Maybe the White Tusk Clan would be holding the White Mammoth Hide this year. Their war with the People certainly would have earned them honors among the clans. If they held the precious hide, clan leaders from the north and west would be flocking to Ice Fire's camp. A tingle of anticipation taunted her. If they were there . . . they'd hear what she told the Most Respected Elder about the hole, and the Dreamer, and the-way to the south with its wonderful valleys filled to bursting with game.
All she needed to do was find a village of the Mammoth People. From then on, she would be safe and greatly revered.
She trotted and ran and trotted again, eating the last of the fat from the fuel bag, the lamp she'd carefully hidden where she could find it again. A wry smile crossed her lips. Oh, they'd looked hard and long for that. But she'd foxed them all.