"Your daughter is always nervous about my health. You'd think I was twenty years younger and she had an eye for raising my children."
Red Flint spread his hands, a neutral expression on his face. "She doesn't need you twenty years younger."
Ice Fire turned back to watch the flying strands of geese where they winged south. "I had a wife once . . . and a vision after that. That's enough women for one lifetime."
Red Flint shifted, boots grating on the gravel. "I know." It came subdued. "I wasn't serious about Moon Water. But
she would, you know. She's worshiped you since she was little and you threw her up in the air and told her stories."
He laughed at the memory of the squealing round-faced girl, her hair flying out as he tossed her high and caught her. "She should be looking for a young man."
"Enough of Moon, Water. You've been preoccupied." Red Flint settled himself on the rock just below Ice Fire's point of vantage. "What is it, Most Respected Elder? What do you see out here? What should we know?"
Ice Fire laced his fingers around his knee, leaning back, eyes still on the southern distance. Even from here, he could see the hills rising. The big gravel-braided river shone a deep blue, white-tipped rapids foaming over submerged rocks. For days he'd prayed to the Great Mystery, begging for a vision, an explanation of the tension mounting to a violent crescendo inside his breast—but no answer had come.
"I can't tell yet. Only," he whispered, placing a weather-hardened hand to his heart, "I feel it here. The long wait is almost over, old friend."
"Is that good?"
Ice Fire smiled grimly. "No, but it's not bad either."
"Then what?"
"The Great Mystery's path is opening before us. Good or bad, who knows? What matters is that things will be different, and we'll be changed forever."
Red Flint listened, nodding slightly, a skeptical frown on his deeply lined face. "When you talk this way, I hear your words . . . but I'm never really sure I know what you mean."
Ice Fire smiled warmly. As he laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm, he said, "Neither am I, usually. And it wouldn't matter. We couldn't change anything even if we did."
Chapter 23
Desperately, calling out with fear, One Who Cries held on. His fingers slipped on the wood as the buffalo whirled, spinning with incredible speed. Thick muscles straining, fingers tearing out of their sockets, he fought to keep his hold. His heart pumped, and the world flipped and spun in a blur as his feet lost their grip.
His body slapped to the ground as the buffalo slipped on the ice. The dart shaft snapped in his hand, while the breath in his lungs blasted past his lips.
One Who Cries lay stunned, unable to move as his eyes widened in horror. The buffalo kicked itself to its feet, showering him with icy crystals. He looked into pain-glazed angry eyes as the buffalo thrashed its head, bloody snot slinging in an arc. Hot breath puffed in the cold air as the animal's muscles bunched in the shoulders and hips.
He's going to kill me! One Who Cries watched, unable to move, as the buffalo shot forward, head twisting to hook him with the long black horn.
He opened his mouth to scream.
No sound came.
The buffalo whipped around at the last moment, the mighty back feet splattering him with dirty snow and gravel. Another dart shaft stuck out at an odd angle, the buffalo's flank quivering as if to drive off a vicious bott fly.
"Hey! Whoooo!" someone screamed from the side. The buffalo backed away, wet hooves shining blackly as they danced before One Who Cries' nose. Another step back and . . .
The buffalo gave a startled jump as another dart slapped into its side. One Who Cries heard the huge animal grunt from the sting of sharp stone in its flank. Towering over him, a fuzzy black-brown mass, it swayed on its feet, breathing in grunting rasps.
One Who Cries swallowed, struggling to suck air into his spasming lungs. Turning his head, he could see blood drooling down between the animal's front legs. As he watched,
the buffalo's beard lowered between its legs. The animal staggered to one side.
He gasped as his lungs caught, fighting for breath. He heard the buffalo's feet stamping the ground as the animal turned-reminded of his presence. The creature swayed, fighting for balance.
To the side, more desperate calls and screams echoed in the chill afternoon, trying to distract the animal.
One Who Cries struggled to rise through a haze of pain that lanced his body, blinking up at the huge beast, who was moving slowly because of the pain.
The buffalo, sides convulsing with each breath, wheezed. The huge head raised, the big body trembling as more darts hit home.
One Who Cries gripped his broken dart shaft, jabbing it up.