"Tell me what you're seeing?" he asked softly.
"Nothing ... I ... you look like someone I know."
"And you look like someone I knew once. She was part of a Dream. Had the Spirit Powers and Heron not been interfering, and had I been in possession of my senses . . . things might have happened differently that day on the beach."
His voice touched something deep within. A shiver finger traced up her back. "Spirit Power makes people do strange things."
He nodded, heedless of the rapidly falling snow that swirled on the whimpering wind. "You sent my warriors back."
"The time for killing is over. You came with women and children in the lead. What do you want here? This last refuge you've left us is almost devoid of game. We haven't much left but our lives and our honor. Still, we'll keep what's ours if you've come to take it."
His nostrils flared as he filled his lungs. A curious smile bent his lips. "Perhaps the time for taking from one another is over, too."
A tracing of humor animated his eyes. A part of her instinctively sought to trust him. She waited, knowing the bargain was yet to come. He watched her, as if knowing her very thoughts. A quizzical expression vied with a deep regret — in his sensitive eyes.
"Is it?" she riposted.
"We've taken your land. You've taken our soul. Haven't we hurt each other enough?"
"We've heard your people live to kill, that the warrior way is where you find honor. Have you changed so much since I sent your warriors back?"
He dropped his eyes to stare at the snow gathering on her long boots. "Perhaps it's not a change so much as a return to the old ways.''
"I don't understand."
"We come from the same people. Didn't Heron tell you? Had my grandfathers not feared yours, our loins would have interlocked. Our clans would share meat over a warm fire today." He paused, eyes softening. "Had Spirit Power not intervened, perhaps these years of war and rape would have been avoided."
She watched him warily. "You seem at home with Spirit Power.''
The lines around his mouth tightened. ' 'Spirit Power is just that. Power. How it's used—what it becomes—depends on the emotions of people involved. Some will use it for only, good. Some for only evil. I've reason to regret some uses and to hope for others."
She nodded, respecting the earnest way he spoke, attracted to his humility. "You and your people climbed so far to tell us that?"
He shook his head. "We came for something of ours that you have."
"The White Hide?"
"Yes."
She slitted her eyes, tensing. "One of our people has that hide. His name is Raven Hunter. He has been disgraced by our Dreamer.''
"We know him. We'd planned on torturing him to death for the horrors he committed on our relatives. He escaped, taking our most sacred White Hide with him. Now we must get it back. Perhaps we can come to an agreement which will accomplish several aims. Will you and your warriors accept a truce? Will you be willing to listen as we listen to you?"
She considered, studying him, looking for the trap. "A lot of pain has been inflicted. Many of the People cry for the blood of Others. They cry for revenge."
A grunt of assertion came from above despite the orders to remain quiet. Ice Fire must have heard, but he betrayed nothing, gaze steadily locked with hers. "It won't be easy," he admitted frankly. "Among the White Tusk Clan, many have suffered at your hands. Even my Singer wishes death for all of you." A wry smile crossed his lips. "Is that not yet another thing which binds us to each other?''
She chuckled before she caught herself.
A twinkle of appreciation sparkled in his knowing eyes. "Leaders with a sense of humor can get along."
She nodded. "Maybe. Tell me where we shall talk?"
He gestured over his shoulder. "A storm comes. I see from your clothing that times have been hard. There has been little game in your camps recently. If you will allow us to camp on your land, we will supply you with shelters and food. Our hunters had a good year. Perhaps we can begin a mending of the rift between our peoples. Out of all this trouble, perhaps we can bring good. Do you think Father Sun would mind our offering a truce for peace in his name?"
Her eyes narrowed. He wanted to make an offering to the-People's gods? Where was the flaw? Could she trust this man she instinctively liked? He did offer food and shelter. Too many nights they'd been freezing in their worn-out parkas, huddled together for shared warmth.
"I'll need to talk to my warriors."
He nodded, arms spread wide. "You might want to argue with some haste; this looks to be a bad storm. If you could fight it out in a hurry, we could be pitching camp and cooking food for all before it gets really bad."