People of the Wolf(6)

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. The wind lulled him, the snow settling in the crevices of his parka, lining the, breath-frosted fur of his hood.

The pull of the new land strengthened, and in his exhaustion, he allowed himself to be drawn, southward, ever southward. Like smoke from a green dung fire, he drifted over the land, seeing, feeling, hearing the spirit and soul breathed up from the rock, dirt, and tundra steppe below. For a time he exalted in a total freedom, a light airy joy of broken bonds and unrestricted bliss.

Then a young man stood before him, blocking him. He rose from the rocky hills, feet braced, dressed in the manner of the Enemy, wearing a White Bear's hide, glowing eyes of a Dreamer.

"Move, man!" Ice Fire ordered. "You're in the way of the White Tusk Clan. In the way of my people."

"What do you seek?"

' 'What I was destined to find. The way for my people. The sons I would have borne."

The young man cocked his head. "You already have sons. Your destiny awaits—if you'll take it. Your sons are your destiny. Which will you choose? Light or Dark?" He lifted his hand.

The vision of a beautiful woman molded in the clouds, her hair blowing in the wind.

The tall youth spoke. "She is Light. Choose her and you and yours will pass this way." He lifted his hand, blowing across his open palm, and from it sprang a rainbow, arching across the sky, dimming even the colorful bands of Light that the Great Mystery played over the northern heavens. The young man pointed to a dark cloud. "Choose Darkness, and you will all die."

"I said, move! We'll crush you beneath us, despite your magic," Ice Fire gasped to hide his fear. "We won't tolerate this Dreaming, this magic of your kind. The Great Mystery will see to that. Our darts are stronger than your Dreams— your Watchers. Don't play with us, man of the Enemy. We'll break your people like a dry willow twig."

The young man smiled. "Is that what you seek? To destroy? That is your choice?"

"No," Ice Fire rasped, a desperate tingle of fright winding up his spine. "I seek my sons, the destiny of my people, possession of the Sacred Hide."

' 'And what would you give?'' The youth's eyes twirled like lights in his head.

Ice Fire swallowed. "I . . . anything."

"Give me your son? I will pay you back in kind. A son for a son. A victory for defeat. Life for death."

"But I—"

' 'Do you agree? Will you trade what is yours for what is mine?"

Confused, Ice Fire opened his mouth. Involuntarily, he mumbled, "I would . . . if it—"

"Then it shall be." And the young man turned, shimmering, dropping to all fours, arms and legs multiplying until he'd become a red spider. Turning, the beast raced up the rainbow, slowing near the top. There, it turned, spreading its legs, spinning the colors of the rainbow across the heavens until they wove themselves into a web connecting the dew-drops of stars.

Ice Fire jerked awake, squinting into the darkness, windblown snow still streaming by in endless wreaths. He winced,

legs numb from sitting so long. Gasping, he stood, feeling the sting of blood revitalizing his numbed limbs.

As he looked up at the snow-glazed stars, he found the shape of the spider there, hanging, waiting, watching.

"Then it shall be," he whispered, still seeing the vision. A pain settled under his heart. "A son for a son?" The old lines of misery resettled around his mouth. "I have no son to begin with. Great Mystery? Am I your toy again? To be thrown about like a fish-bone doll? Have you no other man to soak in sorrow?"

Limping from the blood tingles in his leg, Ice Fire climbed out of the cairn, hobbling slowly down the hill to the conical mammoth-hide shelters dotting the plain below.

Far to the south, Runs In Light blinked frosty lashes, wondering at the strange elder of the Others, the man he'd talked so blithely to in his Dream.

Where had his words come from? What did it mean? He wouldn't speak so to an elder. A frown etched his brow. And this business of peoples . . . and sons?

He shuffled in the blackness, hearing his parka scuff on snow, startled for a moment until he remembered where he was . . . the Dream Hunt. Curiously, he reached out, feeling the reassuring touch of Wolf's hide.

So many Dreams. Frightened, he stared into the darkness. "I'll go south with you, Wolf. But, man of the Others, who are you? Why did you seek me? How can I, Runs In Light, trade you a son?"





Chapter 3



Dancing Fox pulled the last scraps of leather tightly around Laughing Sunshine's dead baby, covering the tiny colorless face for the last time. She exhaled slowly. She was a beautiful woman with an oval face, high cheekbones, and flashing black

eyes as wide and round as an owl's. She gritted her teeth in a mixture of anger and hurt as she rumbled stiffly to shove a bone awl through frozen leather.