People of the Wolf(26)

my back. They'll say I wasn't man enough to keep my own

wife home." -"

"So, live with the truth for once."

' 'Shut up!'' he shouted, backhanding her so powerfully her head slapped loudly against the ice.

Dizzy and nauseated again, she lay limp, feeling the frigid breath of Wind Woman caress her face. She heard the scuff of ivory and stone on leather as the old shaman drew his knife from its sheath.

Better to die. Feel me calling you, Runs In Light? Beloved, I tried to reach you. Not your fault. . . don't blame yourself.

She opened her eyes in time to see Crow Caller's long obsidian blade glittering glassy in the pale light and held her breath as he wrapped his fingers in her hair. Her heart beat a throbbing cadence as she tried to swallow down a fear-knotted throat.

"Dreamer?" Raven Hunter said, grabbing the old man's hand and staying the knife. "She's disgraced you, made a mockery of your leadership among the People. But this is wrong."

"Hush!" Crow Caller's cheeks reddened, breathing quickening. "I'll kill her to erase the—"

' 'But death is so easy."

' 'It's no longer your affair!''

Raven Hunter shrugged, releasing the old man's quaking hand. "True. But think about it. If you let her live, you can shame her every day for the pain she's caused. That's a far more just punishment than ending her misery now.''

His voice sounded so reasonable and controlled, but Dancing Fox swallowed at the desperation in his eyes. One of the long darts rested in his fingers, poised to strike.

The old shaman stiffened, blinking thoughtfully as he stared

down at his wife. He wiped his mouth with his hand. "Make

her an outcast? " -

Raven Hunter nodded. "That way she'll survive only if people throw her scraps of food. Or on what she can scavenge, like a crow.''

"Yes . . ."

Fox closed her eyes. And you can torment me whenever you want. "Husband," she said imploringly. "Kill me. I'm no use—"

"No one will share their scraps. We're all hungry," Crow Caller said thoughtfully, rubbing his wrinkled jaw as a slow smile crept over his face.

Raven Hunter smiled in return. "This way, her death will be a lingering one and—"

"Live, woman! And see what it gets you," the old man bellowed. Looming over her, he whispered malevolently, "In one turning of Moon Woman's face, you'll wish I'd slit your throat.''

She gazed absently at the distant peaks that glowed a dusty purple. Runs In Light would be there by now, going through the hole in the ice to paradise beyond. She imagined his face, the softness in his eyes when he looked at her—and her soul cried in silent misery.

"I'll tell the People," Crow Caller said. She heard his retreating footsteps.

After a few moments, Raven Hunter exhaled loudly, kneeling beside her. He lifted her chin, forcing her to face him. He reminded her so much of Light . . . except for the cold glitter in his eyes.

"I thought for a second I'd have to kill him. But it looks like we passed the test. Now we must—"

"What test?"

He frowned as though thinking her stupid. "Didn't I tell you? There'll be many on the path. But don't worry, I'll make sure you have enough food so you'll have the strength."

"Why?"

His face softened. "Because I love you. And you're important to the future of the . . ." He paused, cocking his head and staring absently at the cloud-strewn sky. "I don't know how exactly. But someday, I'll need you. Remember the life you owe me."

As she gazed into his crazed and glassy eyes, a tremor shook her.

"Don't worry," he said. As if quieting the hysterics of a child, Raven Hunter closed his hands around her trembling mittens. "I told you, I'll take care of you."

Somewhere out in the drifts, a wolf yipped, his mournful howling carrying on the wind.





Chapter 9



In the milky light of the evening sun, Wind Woman swirled the clouds into long stringers of gold and picked at the bones of the People. A thin gilding of frost lined their hoods. Dark circles beneath their hard eyes, the People squinted ahead to the endless tiers of stark ridges.

One Who Cries looked back at the staggering line of people, working their way up the long ridge. Broken Branch came at the end, placing her feet carefully on the snow-blown rock. Three of the little children paced in front of her. Ahead, farther up the ridge, the one they now called Wolf Dreamer plodded onward, darts over his shoulder, pushed by the lure of his Dream.

One Who Cries glanced at Jumping Hare. His young cousin looked as worn as the ancient landscape. Wiping crusted ice from the hood fur around his jaw, he squinted against the frigid blasts ripping the land. "Four weeks, Crow Caller said. Four weeks until we'd feel hunger.''