"Was it the Watcher again? Did she do this to you?" Red Flint dropped to stare intently into his eyes.
"No, not the Watcher. I didn't feel her."
"What? Think. Remember, old friend," Red Flint pleaded.
Ice Fire looked up, shaking his head. "I can't . . . can't remember more. The vision broke then."
"South.'' Horse Cry looked around with a predatory smile. "To the Enemy."
Ice Fire looked at him, a curious premonition rising within. "Beware, Horse Cry, things are not to be as you imagine." Not when Power wraps its threads around the lives and souls of men.
Chapter 25
Broken Branch and Runs In Light struggled together up Heron's ridge. The old Dreamer stood alone, watching them weave along the rocky path. Her eyes riveted on Runs In Light.
As they neared, she turned to Broken Branch. "Back? You like punishment, old woman?"
"Oh, shut your mouth," Broken Branch muttered, craning her thin neck to look up at the Dreamer. "Kill me if you want to, but do it when I'm lying in your hot springs soaking my aching bones."
Heron guffawed, eyes twinkling. "Go soak. I'll come kill you when I have time."
"Come to talk, first," Broken Branch said tenderly. "No one remembers the old ways like we do. I miss them."
Heron's smile turned soft, she lowered her eyes. "So do I."
"And teach this boy what to do with the images floating around his head." Broken Branch hooked a thumb at him. "He'll go crazy if he doesn't learn soon."
His heart fluttered madly as he met Heron's eyes. A flame burned there he didn't understand, but it made his gut go tight.
"You're no longer Runs In Light, you know that?"
"Yes," he rasped anxiously, "I know that now."
The next night, he sat awkwardly in front of Heron's fire, the shelter walls glowing softly around him. The skulls in the
corners seemed to glare suspiciously at him—as though they doubted his resolve. He shifted uncomfortably, pulling up his knees and propping his chin on them. He'd been listening to the old Dreamer for over three hours, listening, but understanding little. On the other side of the fire, Broken Branch sat quietly, preparing freshly snared hare for dinner.
"Magic? The world's full of it. But it's not the kind you think." Heron pointed. "I can't make that rock move. I can't breathe life into the dead. There's rules that keep everything together. A Dreamer has to sink into the world—let it swallow him until he doesn't exist anymore." She cocked her head, eyeing him seriously. "You listening to me?"
"Yes."
"What do you think happens when you call the animals and they come?"
"They hear me calling and—"
"Wrong." Heron leaned forward to stare him hard in the eye. He swallowed nervously.
"Then what?"
"They don't hear you. They hear their own voices calling them to die."
"What do you mean?" he asked in confusion, restlessly prodding the fire with a long stick.
"I mean the basic rule of all magic, or all Dreaming, is that there's only One Life." In a swift violent motion, she stabbed another piece of wood into the fire. Sparks whirled upward.
Her eyes gleamed as she waited pensively, expecting him to respond, but his gut roiled so madly he could think of nothing to say. Finally, "Go on."
"You've seen a mother charge Grandfather White Bear with a rock when he's grabbed one of her children."
He nodded.
"Why does she do it?"
"To save her child."
Heron spat derisively into the fire. "Great Mammoth, no."
He squirmed. What was she getting at? He searched his own feelings and thoughts. "I don't . . . understand."
"She does it to save herself."
"But Grandfather White Bear has her child."
"Child is Self," she whispered cryptically. "People sometimes touch the One Life—feel inseparably linked to others, or places. That's what it's all about, never letting that link go." She spread her arms wide, pinning him with her glinting gaze. "That's why the caribou came. For a single moment, you touched the One, and when you called, begging them to give themselves, they heard their own voices and came. Offering the sacrifice so they themselves could live."
"If there's only One Life, then why doesn't everyone feel it. Why aren't we always in contact with it?"
She stared, hardly aware that Broken Branch sat quietly roasting meat. "Thoughts get in the way. People block their minds to the Dream, disbelieve, shut themselves off from the voice of the One. If they listen to themselves, they can hear it, but a person has to tear down the walls he's built in his mind before he's free to listen. Most people won't. It's too hard. Instead, they fill their minds with petty nonsense, gossip, thoughts of revenge."