He shook his head, trying to clear the hunger haze. Dog? They 'd eaten the dogs!
"Imagination," he grumbled, and looked up into a black dog face staring down the tunnel at him.
One Who Cries blinked, hearing with his own ears the sniffing of the animal. Food! He reached for his darts, feeling the trembling in his muscles. Cursed hunger robbed a man of ...
"Get back, Black," a sharp voice called as One Who Cries shifted to free his darts. Green Water sat up, desperate hope in her eyes.
The black dog backed out in a new cascade of snow. One Who Cries mustered his strength to crawl up, only to be met by a hooded face looking in.
"Hungry in there?" an old woman asked. "Thought it was a nice storm. Not the kind to be wasted sitting home by the fire, so I threw a couple of guts full of fat and took a walk."
One Who Cries stared. "Are you a spirit trying to suck my soul into the Long Dark?"
' 'Hush,'' Green Water called, pulling him back to the side.
The old woman wiggled in, the black dog leaning forward to fill the space, blocking the little light.
"Black!" the old woman growled. "Get out of here." She motioned and the dog backed hurriedly out.
"Where's Broken Branch?" the woman asked—a wicked light in her eye.
"Next shelter, I think. You know her?" One Who Cries asked.
She studied him for a second. "Know her? Twenty-five Long Darks ago, I promised I'd kill her if she ever came into my reach again. That's a long time to keep a promise."
One Who Cries looked sharply at Green Water. * * *
Cold. Nothing else existed but the hunger knot in Dancing Fox's belly. Only Talon's weak raspy breath reminded her that she wasn't alone, that other humans existed, that the world had once held warmth, sunshine, and laughter.
Wind Woman ravaged the snow around them, rattling ice crystals off the worn caribou robe they snuggled under. So little body heat left to share, so little energy. Despite the hide they'd wrapped in, despite the double layers of hair-on parkas, the cold ate at them.
"Who will sing us to the Blessed Star People?" she wondered aloud.
"Maybe Mammoth, huh?" Talon murmured, not even moving her old gray head where it lay pillowed on Dancing Fox's shoulder.
"Four days we've lain here. I wonder if anyone but us is alive?"
"My greatest worry," Talon whispered, "is that you might have to pee again. You get up and I'm gonna freeze."
"I might have to. You're warmer if you don't keep that extra water. It sucks the heat out of you. Wastes what little's left."
"Ah, I know that. But I can't get up again, girl. Can't do it. Bare my butt to the blowing snow? No, it'll kill me. My thread's weak . . . weak. ..."
Dancing Fox closed her eyes. "Thank you, Talon, for spending time with me. I don't think I could have made—"
"Bah," Talon hissed softly. "I wanted to be with you." Then she turned her ancient face up and stared at the ice walls. "Wish we'd both gone with Runs In Light. Wolf Dream. There's Power in that."
"I tried."
"I know." The old woman's head moved as she swallowed. "I ... know."
Dancing Fox lifted the corner of the caribou hide, seeing the wraiths of snow rushing past. Here, on the ground, the whole world hazed white. Even in this little bit of day, she could see nothing. What a terrible way for her soul to leave its body.
"Runs In Light?" she called softly. "One day, perhaps among the stars, we'll find each other. I'll hold you then. Love you."
She closed her eyes, blinking back the tears, pain from the loss lancing her very heart.
"Still calling after my idiot brother?"
Even through dreams of death, Raven Hunter's voice penetrated. She willed his knowing tones away.
"Come on, my dearest Dancing Fox," the voice called again, insistent, real. "Raise your flap and eat this."
Talon shifted next to her as the caribou hide lifted, and despite the cold snow that blew in, she stared up into his handsome face.
"I found Sheep Whistle's, camp a day from here." He handed her strips of meat. "They're setting up a shelter now. We'll have a fire going in a couple of minutes. Heat some fat up. It'll be hard, but I think we can save the ones still alive. Until then, stay warm."
"We'll live," she whispered. Oh, Runs In Light, I'm going to live!
"Good boy, that Raven Hunter," Talon whispered. "You could do a lot worse than him, Fox. A lot worse."
Dancing Fox winced, shuddering.
Chapter 16
Ash-colored, rays streamed down through the ice cave's narrow opening, accenting the sallow cheeks of the People pressed close together inside. Clutching robes tightly around them, they spoke little, or not at all, despair a palpable thing-all hope fled.