People of the Wolf(55)

"I can't let him go!" he shouted bitterly. "He's me! That's all I am. I'm—"

"Bah! Quit being a fool. If that's all you were, you'd have never heard Wolf calling you."

Pressure built to a violent crescendo inside. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" Her scratchy old voice had gone gentle, comforting. "I know exactly how you're feeling, torn between this world and the Dream world. I've been there. Fortunately I had Broken Branch to make my decision for me. Years passed while I scrambled to learn how to open the doors in my soul. With me teaching you, you'll learn it in a tenth the time."

"I don't want your teachings."

A smile creased her face, understanding, sympathetic. "Going to be a dabbler all your life, eh?"

"Maybe."

"I warn you . . . you'll end up like Crow Caller, out of sorts, unable to leave the Power alone, lost between truth and falsehood."

"I don't care!" he shouted hoarsely, turning his back to her. "It's my choice."

'' No argument there."

He heard her steps going away down the trail, returning to her hot springs, and he swallowed convulsively, heart hammering. Looking out, he could see the People, smaller now, slow-moving dots in the gleaming plain as they picked their way toward piles of glacial rock buried in sheaths of snow.

The urge to follow cried hollowly in his chest. That way led back to the familiar world, to the People and comfort of knowing where he stood in the community. That way led to laughter, warm fires in the night, the old stories. His last link to the security that had always been his was fading with their tracks in the snow.

Too much. I can't give that up!

Resolutely, he clutched his darts and snowshoes up from where he'd laid them, and ran, following the trail of the Peo-

pie. A handful of paces later, he pulled up, looking back at the ridge, back at Heron's. Fear tingled along his spine.

"No," he growled at himself, at the longing tugging him to turn around. "I'm not the one."

Again he took the trail, stilling the wrongness in his heart, but his steps had no spring to them.

Night caught him in the open, stringers of cloud blowing in from the far horizon to burn orange in the sunset. Alone, he bundled himself into a niche in the rock where Father Sun's heat would radiate through part of the night. Miserable, he tried to sleep.

His Dreams left him uneasy, images of the Dream Hunt, of the green valley bursting with game, of Wolf's rasping last breaths. They teased him, haunting, pulling like the open arms of a lover. A lingering taste of wolf meat went sour at the back of his tongue. In the Dream, Wolf stopped frolicking through the lush grasses and turned to him, lifting his nose high. "Spurning my promise?" he asked.

"No! No, I ... there's someone better, someone who can—"

"I chose you."

"No!"

As if a clap of thunder had sounded, he came bolt awake in the blackness. Sweat poured down his chest, tickling along his skin. The gritty bite of the rock and the edges of chill ate through his damp long boots.

"I'm afraid!" he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. He slammed a fist into the rock beneath him. "So afraid. What's happening to me?"

The wind brought a pungent odor, cutting. He leaned back, resting on his elbows. In the night, a wolf howled, a chorus filling in, eerie, searching.





Chapter 22



A crisp breeze skimmed the chopping whitecapped waves that blew up the river, tousling the fringes on Ice Fire's sleeves. From his high rocky perch, he gazed out over the Big River to the jumbled shore on the other side. The hazy blue green of vegetation carpeted the rolling hills. Far to the east, he could see the rising white of the Big Ice. Behind him, the snow-mantled gray summits of the mighty mountains raked the clouds. The heart of the Long Light had come. Life filled the land.

Flocks of geese soared through the azure skies, their chevrons stretching endlessly to the south. Birds wheeled over the water, preying on the abundance of fish. A deep longing filled his chest as he followed their flight.

"You've been watching the snow geese for four days now," Red Flint remarked, coming up behind him.

Ice Fire didn't bother to turn. "Birds are wonderful things. Imagine what they see up there." He let his eyes dwell on the far southern horizon. The call lurked, subtle, urging.

"They're also noisy. They screech and honk and they're stupid. You can lay out grass-stuffed snow-goose hides and they'll fly right into your net."

Ice Fire cocked his head to study his friend through a slitted eye. "I hope you came up here to ruin my contemplations for a reason."

"You haven't eaten in two days. Moon Water is getting nervous about your health."