People of the Wolf(161)

Sizzling explosions of steam rose warm, circling about his

head. Perhaps it wasn't Heron's shelter, but it cleared his mind, eased his thoughts with that feeling of Oneness. As the steam dissipated, he sprinkled more snow on the rocks, breathing deeply, feeling the tensions, the distractions, fading. He could carry his geyser anywhere now. He could cleanse his mind—Dream.

Stretching his consciousness, he sensed a dark presence moving somewhere nearby. His heart pounded suddenly. As he'd known for months, the conflict approached, drawing down from the north.

He pulled his white bear robe over his head, letting the steam fill the canopy and caress his face. In the moist darkness, painful images swirled.





Chapter 64



In the eternal blackness, Raven Hunter stumbled over a waist-high boulder, banging his head as he fell. Pain blasted up his hurt arm, leaving him nauseated and sick, lights whirling through the blackness before his eyes. He lay there, the weight of the White Hide pinning him on his injured arm. Air rasped in and out of his laboring lungs. A new pain stung his head where he'd cracked it on the rock.

"Got to keep going," he choked. "Power's in the Hide. Power's mine. Got to keep going."

With his good hand, he felt out the position of the boulder, dragging the heavy Hide over it, maneuvering with his good arm, straightening and pulling the Hide over his shoulders. He locked his knees to brace his trembling legs. One step at a time, he felt his way along, the ghosts creaking and moaning in the ice overhead. Gravel crunched under his worn long boots, the chill eating through the holes where the leather bunched and chafed against the blistered soles of his feet.

Step-by-step, he continued, feeling the way by keeping to

the gravel, bent low to keep from banging his head on the overhanging ice. Around him, the forbidding black stretched.

He rubbed his cheek against the White Hide, feeling the Power it held, letting it soak into his very skin. He'd cut away his pouch, eating it strip by strip for the little strength it held.

Onward he plodded, driven by the future, goaded by the Power that would be his when the People saw the White Hide. They waited for him—and the White Hide—somewhere ahead. Beyond the blackness.

The mountains shaded lavender in the silence of dawn, stars twinkling low on the southern horizon. Before them, the Big Ice loomed—a vast white wall, ghostly in the soft light. Wind Woman whipped snow from the ridge tops, sending them stretching like long fingers into the sky. Guards hunched over a small fire, clutching their robes as they looked out across the crystalline wastes.

Singing Wolf stood apart, a foot propped on one of the boulders that tumbled down the slope around them. He'd been up most of the night, thinking, worrying—but it was none of his business. Still, he winced as his gaze drifted to Ice Fire's shelter. Nestled in the center of the camp, the hide roof glistened with frost. Every night for the past week, Dancing Fox had gone in to share dinner with the Most Respected Elder and not come out until dawn. Her warriors, especially those from Raven Hunter's old band, bristled, stamping around threateningly, charging treason.

Singing Wolf heaved a tired sigh and contemplatively smoothed the snow from the rock beside him, whispering to himself, "No, she's no traitor."

He'd seen the tender looks Fox and Ice Fire had started to share, the guarded way they touched each other—and he understood their newfound togetherness. The elder-reminded them all of Wolf Dreamer. How could Dancing Fox not feel longing for the man? She'd loved the Dreamer with all her heart.

And maybe the fact that Fox and Ice Fire shared robes would strengthen both peoples. Yes, maybe. He gripped a handful of snow and crushed it into a ball, then tossed it silently into the lavender rays of dawn.

"This is crazy!" Eagle Cries whispered viciously from down the slope.

Singing Wolf turned to see the youth's fist lifted toward the Others' camp. In the dim rose-amber light of the fire, Eagle Cries' face twisted with anger.

"Tomorrow, we take these Others into the hole under the ice? I can't believe it!"

"I can't either," Crow Foot remarked. His round face glowed boyishly smooth in the dim light. "We lead men who raped our women and killed our brothers into the heart of the People's camp? It's madness."

Singing Wolf massaged his forehead and tiredly headed for their fire. They started, surprised, as he appeared out of the darkness. "Don't forget the oaths you swore to uphold the peace."

Crow Foot turned, catlike on his heels. "You've always been weakhearted, Singing Wolf. I remember the day you ran out on Raven Hunter and the rest of us. Oaths didn't matter so much then, eh?"

Singing Wolf's breath fogged around his face. "What Raven Hunter did was wrong for the People. Wolf Dreamer is doing right for us."