"Then our clan will push south without them. In all of this, there is one certainty; these gutless Enemy we face are few, and getting fewer. At least our clan can brush them out of the way like so many flies."
Ice Fire rubbed his hands together, feeling the calluses on his palms. "Perhaps. But I've dreamed of a young man. A tall, angry young man. I see him gathering his darts and bringing us death. He's a leader. The kind who can stir warriors. He ..."
"Goon."
"I may have to kill him."
Red Flint stared, motionless. "You've killed before. Why does that bother you so?"
Ice Fire turned anguished eyes on him. "I'm not sure I can."
"Why not?"
"I ... I think he's my son."
Chapter 10
Anxiously, Wolf Dreamer looked out over the rugged land. It undulated in sharp peaks. Wind Woman's harsh breath left them tottering on their feet. The emptiness provided no solace. In the crevasses, thick stands of willow and dwarf birch locked the snow, making hazardous traps into which he'd
fallen more than once, floundering out with a dangerous waste of energy. Slick ice slopes had to be negotiated, treacherous footing always a peril. He could risk no fall, no broken bones. It would mean his death.
And the People were his responsibility.
Like the weight of a mammoth tusk on his shoulders, the burden bore down on him. The taste of Wolf's blood rested eternally on the back of his tongue, the fire of the Dream pushing him onward.
It had been real.
As tormented days passed, he fought to convince himself that Wolf hadn't played trickster with him. To joke so with the lives of the People lay outside his comprehension. Runs In Light stopped, leaning on his dart shafts, looking out at the piled rock where snow packed the rounded gray boulders.
"Another Dream Hunt?" he whispered, feeling the presence of the Soul Eaters of the Long Dark hovering close, held at bay for these few short hours of light. "I'm too tired.'' If only I could rest, lie down in the snow, and let the Long Dark suck my life away into Wind Woman's chant. Death would be release. He clenched his jaw, silently chastising himself. Coward.
He took a deep breath and drove himself over the crest of a ridge, forcing his crying body beyond its feeble limitations. Behind him they came, bellies hollow, the flesh of their faces sagging, accusation in their eyes. Most no longer believed in the hole in the ice.
"Wolf?" he pleaded hoarsely. "Lead me. "
He looked back, seeing One Who Cries and Jumping Hare stop and begin cutting into the side of a tapered drift. With a sharpened bison scapula, they removed blocks of frozen snow, gouging out a shelter with the shoulder bone.
"Must we camp here?" he whispered.
He saw Broken Branch and the sight filled him with pity. She still waddled along, sallow-faced, the glow of the Dream in her eyes.
Clenching his fist, he walked away from the digging—away from the People.
Wind Woman blew twisting wraiths of snow over him in a veil. The crystals clattered in muted defiance across the empty
land. Upward, ever upward, how far had they climbed into these craggy hills? Cold and desolate, this land around them could have been the chill spine of some monster of the ice. Wind-ravaged and worn, the blue-black rock loomed, massive in the darkening night.
"So many mouths, Wolf. So little food."
Out of sight of the camp, Runs In Light sank to his knees, mittens clutching the forever snow.
"Was my Dream false?" he cried to the gathering spirits of the Dark. Head bowed, he could feel them rustle restlessly around him, their fingers already pulling at his soul.
Moonlight tarnished the slopes, gleaming silver from the polished drifts. Yellow hollows flickered and shimmered where moss and birch fires illuminated shelter holes dug into the snow. Through wavering clouds, the Star People glistened, watching.
Dancing Fox crouched behind the shelter, listening to the turmoil inside. Weeping pierced the haunting death songs. Gray Rock had grown desperately weak, her frail old body unable to take the long torturous days of endless walking and climbing. A deep aching regret tormented Fox. She wanted to rush inside and hold the old woman in her arms, rocking her back and forth while she poured out words of love and gratitude.
But she was an outcast. She could not enter the lodge unless someone mercifully asked her to, and she feared Gray Rock was too far gone for that.
She shuddered there in the bitter cold, her breath a white mist in the air. Wind stung her face, carrying the pitiful mourning of wolves.
"Why don't you leave?" she whispered angrily to herself. But she both knew and hated the reasons. They were too far away from Runs In Light now and she feared the snowstorms had long since covered the trail he'd left for her. She could not touch the food reserves of the clan. If she ran away, it would be without food or weapons.