"Uh-huh." One Who Cries stepped over an outcrop of shale, surveying the gleaming country. "The Others."
"I'm not afraid—"
"I'm going to the plain," Jumping Hare murmured apologetically. "One musk ox died there. Maybe there's more."
As they descended the icy ridge, they saw the carcass. The wolves stood, marking the sight, watching with wary yellow eyes.
Singing Wolf ran screaming into their midst. "Get away. Goon!"
The animals scattered, whining and snarling their resentment.
"Why'd you do that?" One Who Cries shouted. "If you'd given us a chance, we might have shot one or two. Wolf's crummy meat. But it's meat."
Jumping Hare sighed, watching the wary animals now circling beyond dart range. "One of those wolves might have made the difference for some of the old people."
Singing Wolf opened his mouth, a hot retort on his lips. As if the reality had finally sunk in, he looked quickly away, shoulders slumping.
One Who Cries squinted at the remains. The ox had mired in deep snow, breaking through a hidden patch of larch. The wolves had taken their time. "No guts. Wolves got most of the fat. But it's life."
Jumping Hare licked his cracked lips. "People will call us stupid if we haul this all the way back to camp and then walk past this place on our way to some hole in the ice." He glanced sideways at his clan brothers. "We are going that way. Aren't we?"
One Who Cries filled his lungs with air, then exhaled. "I'm not climbing all those ridges back to Mammoth Camp."
"Good!" Jumping Hare blurted, flapping his arms gleefully. ' 'I '11 go get the rest of our people and bring them here.'' He turned quickly, running back along their trail.
One Who Cries glanced to Singing Wolf. His cousin looked away, guilt bright in his eyes.
One by one, Crow Caller's band began to fail. Two Whistles wandered off during the march. Slate Rock stumbled and fell, refusing to get up. Staggering on, they'd had no choice but to leave him. Crow Caller exhorted them, whipped them with words and blows, but the People had been pushed so far beyond their endurance they couldn't comply.
Dancing Fox plodded along, feeling how close she was to the edge, knowing that without Raven Hunter's extra donations, she, too, would have long since died from the cold or exhaustion. Determined, she held on, marching at the end, - trying to keep the stragglers moving. Sometimes succeeding, other times failing.
Even Raven Hunter's face seemed empty. Only his indom-
itable spirit kept him roving before the band. His periodic offerings of rabbits, ptarmigan, and the scavenged remains of winter kills kept them going. Many on the edge of death, they still stumbled on.
In her dreams, Runs In Light watched, his eyes ever filled with tears. One Dream repeated over and over. Runs In Light stood high on a rocky hill. Below, Dancing Fox clambered over rough angular rocks, levering herself up, scrambling. The harder she climbed, the steeper the slope, the higher he seemed.
She called to him, reaching up, trying to touch the rock on which he stood. Again and again she tried, jumping, leaping fruitlessly. Yet he stood, face impassive, unaware of her as she tried so desperately to get his attention.
Finally, as she screamed her misery, he would turn, the Dream in his eyes, and walk slowly away in a shaft of light, leaving her in the empty darkness.
"Should have gone with Runs In Light," Talon mumbled weakly where she hobbled in front of Dancing Fox. "Should have. Wolf Dream. Broken Branch saw it. She knew a Dreamer when she saw one."
A chill lay around Dancing Fox's heart. "Yes," she whispered. "She knew."
Talon looked back for a moment, the stigma of a cursed woman forgotten. "Deep down, I knew Crow Caller's Power was gone. And he leads us anyway."
"He's a fool," Dancing Fox said. "And worse, he's killed people who trusted him—just to save face."
"Well," Talon gasped, breath puffing whitely before her, "he's killed me, too. I'm tired, girl. Tired and cold. I feel it in my joints. I shiver a lot now when I'm not moving. You know what that means? No fire in the body anymore. No fire, girl."
"You can make it," Dancing Fox insisted. "Here, lean against me."
The old woman shook her head, coming to a stop. "No," she said in a long exhale. "I'm just plain tired. You understand? I've gone over the edge."
Dancing Fox stopped, heart thundering. "Here, take my hand. I'll help. You'll die if you fall behind. You won't make it to shelter after dark."
Talon chuckled dryly. "Take your hand? And have my soul soiled by yours?"
Dancing Fox withdrew her offered mitten, dropping her eyes. "I want you to live, that's all."