People of the Wolf(21)
Now, without the dogs to warn them, they were in constant danger of predators. In this hunger-bleak Long Dark, not even their numbers would long deter a hungry bear.
A hollow chasm grew in Dancing Fox's chest, yawning wider with each step. Her ties with Runs In Light strained to the breaking point as she tramped farther and farther from him. At least when they'd been in camp together, she could talk to him occasionally—touch him guardedly. But now she'd have nothing, no solace from her husband's brutality.
For hours they trudged, Cloud Mother gradually pulling a roiling charcoal gray blanket over them. At first Wind Woman tugged gently at Fox's clothing, but by the time Father Sun had walked halfway across the southern heavens, howling gusts lashed her. Snow blew in chattering streams from the drifts, stinging her face like icy bone splinters.
Her hatred burned, thoughts drifting to Runs In Light and back to Crow Caller. He owns my soul.
I can protect you! Light's desperate voice promised in her memory.
She felt her tender breasts, knowing the bruises Crow Caller had left. The memory of his flesh against hers made her stomach heave.
Ahead, the old shaman bent into the wind, hawking to spit phlegm from his lungs.
"I can't, " she whispered, soul crying within. "I can't stay with you, old man. I can't stand the thought of your filthy mouth on me. Can't stand the thought of your wasted flesh rubbing mine. I'd rather die. ..."
She looked around, heart like a rock in her chest. She bit her lip, thinking.
The storm raged down on them in hazy crystalline sheets, obscuring the plain, but still they strode on. When they were well out into the flats, Dancing Fox slowed her pace, falling back to the end of the procession. She fell out of line, squatting down as if to relieve herself. Her heart pounded sickeningly. People averted their eyes from her, as was proper.
She crouched there in the swirling snow, knees trembling. The band dimmed to a slithering ashen slash, finally disappearing into the squall. Only their rapidly filling tracks graved the snow.
Mustering her courage, she ran headlong for the lee of a
drift, pressing her back against it as she angled away from the People. She doubled back along an ice-packed ridge, throwing terrified glances over her shoulder. Would they be looking yet?
Shuddering, she turned her face into the frigid gale, praying, "Wind Woman, please, cover my trail. I must get away."
Faintly, as if the spirit carried it to her deliberately, she heard Crow Caller shouting. Fragments of curses shot through the storm, one word clear in its repetition, "Death . . , death."
Stumbling forward, she ran with all her heart, lungs heaving as she scrambled over another ridge and headed along the spiny backbone, hiding behind each upthrust rock to stop and listen. For a long time she ran, heedless of anything more than direction and her hunger-starved weakness.
"Wolf?" she whispered to the darkening gray of day. "Wolf, you promised your Power would be strong. Protect me."
She could find Light's trail, even in the brunt of the storm. Memories of his warm eyes and gentle touch soothed her.
She threaded down the ridge, hair darting wildly before her eyes, then skirted an eerily sculpted bank of ice; it stretched like a series of mammoths lumbering along in single file. Through the haze, she thought she glimpsed their old shelters, the black hides frosted with snow.
"Could I be this close so soon?" she murmured, brow furrowing in thought. It didn't make sense that she'd come so far, but time seemed to stop in the midst of a storm.
Her eyes darted along the ice wall, roving blue hollows and swirling mounds. Snow fell harder, draining color from the arctic landscape until nothing but white existed. Sliding slowly along the wall, her fumbling outstretched hand sank suddenly back into the bank.
"What ..." she murmured unsteadily, bending cautiously down to peer into the small ice cave. Kneeling, she crawled inside out of the wind.
Her sanctuary stretched barely five by eight feet, the ceiling only a foot over her head. Duck-walking to the rear of the cave, she removed her pack, shoving it into a darkened corner, and sagged wearily against the wall.
"Wolf?" Her voice echoed from the irregular walls. "They'll be looking for me as soon as the storm dies down."
As she huddled, trembling from exhaustion, she closed her eyes, trying to feel her soul, to feel if Crow Caller had taken any part of it. But the lightness of hunger obscured any other feelings.
Whirling silver wreaths swept by beyond the mouth of the cave, Wind Woman's undulating shrieks piercing the day. Fox rested, mittened hands shoved deep in her pockets, watching.
Despite her fear, sleep came quickly, drifting warmly down her exhausted limbs, wrapping softly around her reeling brain. Runs In Light grew out of a shining column of light. He stood out from the darkness, weeping. Behind him, the Star People glistened brilliantly over a series of jagged ridges. Each tear that dripped from his chin froze before it hit the ground, landing with a soft clink. Was he crying for her? No, she felt it was something much deeper, a soul wound no one but he himself could heal. Still, her heart ached for him. She wanted to go to him, to—