"Ah yes. Dancing Fox. Here you are," a smooth voice cooed, intruding on the dream.
She gasped, starting as she opened her eyes. It all came back, Crow Caller, the flight, the storm . . . fear.
"Raven Hunter," she said in a quivering voice, tears welling. The old man must have sent him to find her. "What do you want?"
He laughed and sat down beside her, amused by the way she cowered, holding his own hands high in a gesture of truce. She watched him intently, expecting foul play—waiting her chance to scramble out into the storm.
"Then you're not lost, I take it?"
She kept quiet, closing her eyes, a yawning emptiness growing under her heart.
"Oh, come," he chided. "I'm not here to hurt you. Let's say it's curiosity." His straight nose and high cheekbones shone red with cold, his full lips curled in a grin. Only his black eyes burned dark and impenetrable.
"Curiosity?"
"Yes," he said lightly, pushing back his fur hood and shaking out his long hair. "I didn't expect to see you out here. It's not a day to—"
"Stop it," she commanded quietly. "You followed me. He sent you."
"No," he defended flatly. "I haven't been back to the band. The storm came on so quickly, I didn't have a chance. And when I saw you running back toward Mammoth Camp, I had to come see why.''
She glared coldly at him.
Pulling off his mittens and opening his pack, he removed a fragment of mammoth dung and, with the butt of his atlatl, chipped a small hole in the floor. Laying the 'fuel into the pit, he lifted fire sticks from his pouch, spinning them deftly until the tinder began smoldering. Gently, he blew to encourage the fire, a crackling flame spearing light into the shelter. Holding long fingers over the frail warmth rising from the dung, he looked at her, an eyebrow cocked.
She glared back.
"I saw you running along the ridge top." He puffed condensed breath and smiled faintly. "Never run on high places if you're trying to escape. People can see your movements over amazing distances."
She dropped her eyes to stare at the crimson glow expanding in the fire pit. She'd assumed the snow blanketed her frantic efforts—and maybe it had, from the band. She'd forgotten about him. Silently, she cursed herself.
"What do you want?" she demanded brusquely.
"For the moment, to fill my belly." Removing a stringy lump of frozen meat from a bag in his pack, he skewered it with his long dart and propped it over the fire.
"And then?"
Slumping comfortably back against the wall, he sighed and pinned her with his eyes, remarking casually, "Depends." A pause. "So, you're chasing after my worthless brother."
"I . . ." Her throat bobbed with a difficult swallow. "He-"
"He's leaving a trail for you. Yes, I noticed. So did old One Eye, I think."
Though he said the words mildly, they struck her like a blow in the stomach. Could it be true? No, Crow Caller would have punished her immediately. It was his way. "You're a liar."
He laughed. "Am I? Light's actions were rather difficult
to miss, don't you think? I mean, that quaint ceremony on top of the ridge, and your eyes locked with his. Why, only a fool-"
"Then how did you catch it?" she asked, folding her arms and hugging herself.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Don't tell me you're still in love with him? Why, I thought sure Crow Caller's caresses would have blotted him from your mind long ago."
"I'd rather have a bott fly lay its seed in me than that foul old—"
"Such devotion from a doting young wife."
"Old One Eye? Isn't that what I heard you call the most powerful man among the People? Such respect from a young hunter to his elder.''
He chuckled. ' 'Perhaps we understand each other.''
She glowered, but inside she thought how honeyed his voice sounded, honeyed—and friendly. A dangerous sign. Raven Hunter only grew amiable when he thought he could gain something.
"Of course," Raven Hunter continued, "my idiot brother did ask you to marry him after your father had given you to Crow Caller. His timing is priceless, isn't it?"
"You're a sick man."
He widened his eyes as though surprised, pointing at himself. Then he whispered, "I'm also your only friend right now.''
"Friend," she scoffed.
"I haven't dragged you back to your husband yet, have I?" He leaned forward to twist the shaft of his dart so the other side of the meat would cook. When he looked back, his queer black eyes glistened with speckles of crimson from the fire. "Aren't you wondering why?"
"The storm is too violent."