People of the Wolf(164)

One Who Cries gave him a speculative look from the corner of his eye as he cautiously lowered himself. "I don't like it when you start talking in words I don't understand. You're always drifting off, leaving us alone, without your guidance."

"I know . . ." he said tiredly. He smiled shyly like the old Runs In Light would have. "In answer to your question, the worms will come south, too. They—like us—live off the animals. Many of the creatures that live south of us will die off. Partly because the world is changing, partly because of us—and the worms. Change is the breath of the One, a step in the Dance. You have to see the Dancer ... but the Dancer is never there."

One Who Cries bit off what he was about to say concerning the worms, a look of mystification spreading over his flat features.

Here is a good man. Though One Who Cries doesn 't know it, he Dances closer to the One than all the others. He is pure, unimpressed by his growing stature. A slight pain touched him. I will miss this man more than any of the rest. And the end is coming so soon now, so very very soon.

In the distance, a child raced through camp, carrying a stick high over her head. A dog leapt for it, barking at the girl's heels.

"I never know what you mean anymore."

"Another follows me who will explain."

"Who? Can we—"

The sensation burst upon him, leaving his senses reeling. He would have fallen from the log but for One Who Cries catching him, supporting his weight while the world shimmered around him,

"I have to go," Wolf Dreamer groaned, breathing deeply as he pushed to his feet, arms out for balance. He felt the

red tendrils wrapping around him, the strands pulling tight.

"The web is almost complete. The spiral of the spider is

coming together."

One Who Cries narrowed his eyes, looking up at the young

man who had once been his friend. "Go where? Can I come

and—"

"No. I have to prepare myself, to ready the Dream." He caught his balance, turning his steps upward, toward a

high spruce-covered ridge that overlooked the camp. His feet

had never seemed lighter, nor his heart heavier.





Chapter 65



Darkness swelled around them, heavy and damp. Above,-the ghosts groaned and shrieked, their voices often so loud the People couldn't hear one another speaking. Ice Fire braced his back against the gritty ice wall, feeling along the rough surface with his hands as he cautiously placed each foot. Dancing Fox walked gracefully in front of him, silhouetted by the fat-fed lamp Moon Water had told him how to find. Such a little light, such a terrifying place. And she had passed through here in the darkness—while water ran? His respect and admiration grew.

They pushed onward, a bond forming despite the bristling hostility. Men and women alone with their fears, not even their intense hatred could separate them from the rumbling ice overhead.

"I'm more awed by Wolf Dreamer every day," Ice Fire admitted. "How could anyone trust themselves to this?"

Dancing Fox nodded soberly. "And I've been through k twice before. It never gets any easier."

A sudden grunt sounded; Red Flint fell with a sodden thud. Something snapped like a dart shaft. He groaned and caught his breath.

"What is it?" Singing Wolf called in the darkness, voice echoing eerily.

"My foot," Red Flint groaned, the sound of his hides rustling against the rocks and gravel.

"Here. I found you. Take ray hand," Singing Wolf comforted. ' 'I'm bending down to feel your ankle. Can you guide my hand?"

Dancing Fox turned, starting back with the lamp. Ice Fire followed.

In the dim light, they saw Singing Wolf bending over the Singer, running quick fingers down the elder's leg. A moment later, Red Flint gasped.

"I can feel it through your long boot. Broken."

Red Flint choked some whimpering sound. "Not in here," he whispered.

"We'll get you through," Singing Wolf reassured. Un-slinging his pack, he laid out a long rawhide thong and two sticks. "Let me splint that. We can bear you on our shoulders."

"Wait," Broken Shaft called from further behind. "He's our Singer. We'll carry him."

Into the darkness, Ice Fire called firmly, "We'll take turns carrying him—and anyone else who hurts themselves. Or have you forgotten where we are?" He looked around, meeting worried eyes in the faint light cast by the lamp.

The ice shifted somewhere overhead, the rasping vibrations loud around them. For a second no one moved.

"We'll all take turns," Dancing Fox said crisply into the resulting deadly quiet. The subject closed, she bent down so Singing Wolf could see better as he bound willow artfully around Red Flint's leg.

Fires sparkled like amber jewels strewn across the camp. People stood silhouetted before the flames, roasting meat, fiddling with boiling bags. In the light of the fires, prosperous new shelters of freshly scraped hide rose. The odors of cooking meat, roasting liver, and fat filled the air along with the pungency of a strange smoke. For once, the raking breath of Wind Woman had stilled. Sounds carried on the quiet night, the stars glittering, the mists banished for this evening of celebration. Raven Hunter sighed in elation and relief as a