"Given up, huh? Couldn't stand the thought of making your Dreaming powerful? Gonna go suck up to Crow Caller? Be a laughingstock?" She shook her head dismally. "Wolf should have chosen better."
"What I do, Grandmother, is my business."
"Suppose so." With her fingers, she shooed him away. "Then go on. Be about it. Me, I got important things to do. I haven't lived my life all away yet." And she hobbled off the way he'd come.
Runs In Light gritted his teeth, heart pounding sickeningly. He turned, running to catch up.
"Go on," she growled, making tracks, bent back swaying with each step. "Go grovel at Crow Caller's feet. Me, I'm fine. I been stumbling about these plains since before your mother sucked a full teat, and her mother before her."
"Bull . . ."
"What? Speak up, boy. Wind Woman's been blasting my ears so long they're stopped up."
"I never knew my mother," he said lamely, just wanting to keep her talking, needing reinforcement for the decision that tore at the depths of his soul.
"You never . . . No, of course not! She died bringing that smirking brother of yours alive. Even then he was backward. Came out feetfirst. Flies Like A Seagull tried to turn him, but, well . . . You know. Things happen. He was trouble even then. He'll be more trouble now that he's older. Works that way. I always thought maybe you could temper his violent side, but I guess not."
"His violence was always more powerful than my—"
"Oh, I know it. So did old Seagull. She loved your gentleness, reminded her of her lost daughter. Did you know she'd lost a daughter before she got you?"
He shook his head impatiently.
"Yes, that girl was born funny. Part of her lower back was open. Spine all sticking out, no skin or bone over it. Ugly thing, that child. Never did have use of her legs. Died pretty quick, but not before Seagull came to love her. She was sure happy to get you two. Filled the need in her and she could put her milk to use." Broken Branch cackled suddenly, slapping her thigh. "She used to wince something fierce when that brother of yours clamped down on her. Grew teeth early. Guess he's still got 'em—and they're fangs, to be sure."
He nodded heartily to himself. "He's bit me at time or two."
She cackled again, smiling broadly. "He's bit everybody at least once."
"Broken Branch," he began uncomfortably. "Did you know then that Raven Hunter and I were only half-People?"
She shrugged, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Some of us
thought it, but your mother wouldn't say and we didn't really care anyway."
"How could you not care?" he pleaded incredulously. "They're our enemies!"
"Because the happiest days of all are days when babies come to the People. Keeps us and our ways alive. You belonged to us, not them. We wanted you."
He inhaled a deep breath, battling with himself, shoving at the fears roiling through him, silently screaming in confusion.
She looked up at him from the corner of her eye. "How long has that been bothering you?"
He waved a hand negligently. "Since Heron told me."
"Well, forget about it. When you reached five Long Darks and a human soul came to live in you, it was a soul of the People, not the soul of an Other."
"But I still have the blood of the Others running in my veins."
"Turn it into a trail between two worlds, then, if it worries you."
"A trail between ..." The words echoed in his head: trail. . . between . . . worlds . . .
"Sure, someday we're going to have to face them. Put that blood of yours to use. Just like old Seagull did her milk."
He stumbled, mind reeling. Images swelled; a web of blood shot out from his chest, spreading to the Others' camp, touching the tall man with silver hair, entangling him. The man turned abruptly, staring breathlessly at him.
"The red web," he gasped. "I see fragments—"
"What?" Broken Branch said sharply.
The vision burst and he jerked his eyes wide, panting into the chill wind. "A web, it spreads out like—"
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. It just appeared."
"How are you ever going to find out what those visions mean?"
An empty chasm yawned in his chest. She was asking if he Was ever going to take responsibility for the glimpses, look deeper to find the roots.
"You know why you don't know, don't you? I've seen Dreamers, dozens of them!"
"Why?"
Her jaw worked in her sagging cheeks. She nodded slightly, eyes mahogany orbs. ' 'Your head's full of mush. All cluttered up like bott maggots in a caribou's back."
"And how do I unclutter it?" he demanded, irritated, whispers of the vision taunting from just below his awareness.