"Liar twice," a frail voice called.
They Turned to see One Who Cries weakly prop himself on his elbows. Blood streaked his tanned cheeks in a web.
"What do you know, One Who Cries? Perhaps it's as Raven Hunter says." Four Teeth turned, uneasy eyes on Wolf Dreamer.
One Who Cries blinked, weaving before lying back down. He stuttered, "I—I . . ." in confusion, as if he'd lost his thoughts.
"It's as I say," Raven Hunter growled. "Dark Dreaming has no place among the People. My brother is a witch! He had all the People enchanted by his act. Fooled by his words and the way he stopped Crow Caller's heart. I would have freed them. I took the first opportunity, that's all."
"A man does things in passion," Buffalo Back agreed. ' 'But the dart struck little Twisted Root. There must be punish—"
"It was an accident!" Raven Hunter protested. "What's wrong with us? Here, before us, is a witch! When I saw him perverting the People, I grabbed up my darts."
"Liar," One Who Cries whispered from where he lay., "You stole my darts. Then you went around to shoot from the side of the ridge where you had a clear shot.- My darts! So no one would know who did it. My tent is across the fire, Raven Hunter. You planned it."
"Your darts?" Raven Hunter laughed. "Head wounds do that. Cause—"
"Who has the darts?" Singing Wolf cried out, looking around, arms spread. "Where is the dart that struck the boy?"
Twisted Root's father—tears streaking his face—came forward, a short length of bloody wood in his hands. "Wolf Dreamer pulled it from where it stuck out of my son's back. This is not one of the People's darts. It's too short."
Singing Wolf took the gruesome weapon, holding it up, displaying the broken point. ' 'This belongs to One Who Cries. Look where the boy was darted. You'll find the detachable shaft with the fletching. Only One Who Cries makes a dart like this."
A woman cried as she pounced on the shaft, Twisted Root's blood marking the spot.
Singing Wolf turned to Raven Hunter, accusation in his hot
glare. "The penalty for breaking the peace—killing one of the People—is death."
Four Teeth closed his eyes, a look of misery on his face. He stiffened slowly.
Wolf Dreamer stepped to look into his brother's eyes and murmured, "I asked you not to try and stop me. I see loops and coils in the future—but not the whole length of the path you will travel. Go! Alone! Find your destiny."
Raven Hunter growled. "You're-making me an outcast? Condemning me?"
Singing Wolf turned sharply. "He deserves dea—"
"Go! Even as we speak, the web is spinning out, brother. Seek your heritage, and return. So you can"—his voice faltered as he took a deep breath—"can force our final meeting. Opposites crossed. Final resolution."
"Your meaning is hidden, like a caribou fawn in spring." Raven Hunter's black eyes danced angrily.
"You must lose yourself to see, brother. Or remain in darkness. What do you choose?"
Raven Hunter turned, glaring out at the gathered crowd: "I call my brother a witch! I denounce him here, before you all. I, Raven Hunter, will follow no witch into the darkness! I, I alone, will stand before the Others and show you all what honor is!"
He searched their eyes, pinning each of his uneasy warriors in turn with his hot glare. "Who will come with me?"
No one spoke, no one moved.
After several heartbeats, Four Teeth said, "No one goes with you, Raven Hunter. I say you are outcast."
"But he murdered!" Singing Wolf exploded. "The penalty for murdering—"
"No. Raven Hunter will not die for killing Twisted Root." Wolf Dreamer shook his head. "More, he is not outcast."
Four Teeth spun on an ancient heel, face livid with rage. "You would dare argue with an elder who ..." He stopped, seeing the Dream in the youth's eyes. Swallowing, he dropped his gaze, shoulders sagging. "No, Raven Hunter is not outcast."
"Raven Hunter must face the future alone.'.'
"Cowards!" Raven Hunter exploded. "The Others will
crush us to dust! Salvation is out there! Warring with the Others! There is my honor, and I'll go take it!"
Breaking free of the hands that held him back, Raven Hunter stalked to his tent, a path clearing for him among the crowded ranks of the People. In silence, they watched as he picked up his weapons, robes, and pouch before running nimbly up the path. At the top, he stopped, turned back, an angry figure against a cloud-gray sky. He gestured once, futilely, and disappeared.
Singing Wolf sighed, looking back in time to see Wolf Dreamer turn, his face ghastly pale.