She led him along the ridge to a high place above the hot springs. Below, the water splashed and bubbled, sizzling. In the blackness of night, she placed a robe on the rock. "Sit. Stay here until I come get you. The only thing you must do is still your mind . . . find the silence beneath all the sound."
He squinted incredulously. "There's no silence here. It's all a mass of constant sounds."
He saw her broken teeth flash in the dim light of the Star
People. She put hands on hips and gazed out over the rolling hills to the distant ridges. "You think there's a hole there?"
He followed her gaze, staring at the jagged peaks of ice. A soft pain twined through him. "Yes."
"You have to find the hole inside you before you'll find the one in the ice."
He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, clamping his jaw in disbelief. "This is all gibberish. The One Life, the Dance, the hole. What are you—"
"They're all the same. Everything is nothing." She cackled, hilarious.
He lifted a brow. "You've lost your mind."
Heron shoved his shoulder playfully. "Exactly! And you must, too. Come. Sit. Clear all words from your head. Not a thought. Not a single image in your mind. You have to lose your mind, be empty before you can be full. Sound easy?"
He nodded in the dark. "Of course. Just shut off the voice in my mind."
"I thought you'd say that." She turned and walked off, steps fading in the darkness. Softly he heard her add, "Remember, your only enemy will be yourself."
Wolf Dreamer rubbed his chin dubiously as he watched the steam rise from the geyser, glowing silver in the starlight.
"Well." He sighed. "Here goes." He closed his eyes and stilled all the words in his mind, concentrating on the sound of the hot springs. It was easy ... for all of a half-dozen heartbeats.
Then words crept into his thoughts. Scenes remembered glowed to life in his mind. Slips of conversation oozed from nowhere. The sound of the springs disappeared in his struggle. Nothing helped. Around him, only the cold of the night and his discomfort on the rock agitated his constant battle to keep his mind clear.
Dancing Fox's face floated in his memories and he felt a tearing confusion, longing, desire to see her again. Hurt, he tried to force her away, his mind chattering to itself.
No sooner had he vanquished that vision than Seagull's voice began, the subtle tones of her speech welcome and comforting. Daydreams followed, all erupting out of the turmoil in his mind.
"Your only enemy will be yourself," Heron's words re-
minded, mocking his effort. His butt hurt. The first tendrils of hunger drifted through his stomach.
The long hours continued.
He caught himself musing at the sunrise, smiling at the red and blue bands drenching the sky. Desperately, he battled to still his thoughts about the day. His imagination wove patterns out of the steam lifting from the gurgling water. The gentle breeze filled with familiar voices.
His butt had gone numb. A loud rumble reminded him of his empty stomach.
It got worse.
He didn't remember rolling over on his side, but the flies brought him awake. Tiny gnats plagued him.
"Fine Dreamer you are," he chastised himself, feeling frustrated to the point of screaming. Viciously, he swatted an insect and wiped the remains on his pant leg.
The day wore on. Had Heron forgotten? Gone drifting off on her own, unaware of time? Maybe he ought to go look for her?
"I won't leave."
The sun heated the sky, a thirst growing as he began to perspire. The insects got worse, drawn by the odor of his sweat. A shimmering cloud, they hummed around him. The black flies and mosquitoes sought his flesh. Gnats rattled in his nose, bit at his waist and neck. In desperation, he rolled over and pulled his hood up to cover his head. Sweet oblivion ...
A sharp kick to the ribs brought him scrambling up. To the west, a faint glow marked the vanishing path of Father Sun.
"Asleep?" Heron mused, looking down at his bite-swollen face. "You Dreamed?"
"Uh . . . yes. I was back in the—"
"Didn't you ever find the silence?"
"There's no silence here!" he insisted adamantly, glowering at her.
"Great Mammoth, you're worse off than I thought." She spun on her heel.
He got up unsteadily, dusting himself off, feeling like a gruesome failure. Crestfallen, he followed her.
Chapter 26
Dancing Fox and Talon sat together at the base of a tall basalt ridge. Broken rock spattered the slopes. Grass filled in the spaces between the tumbled boulders, weaving an irregular green and black patchwork. An eagle circled curiously through the cloudy sky over their heads, diving low on occasion to keep an eye on them.
"It's not very good." Dancing Fox held up the point she'd been working on, flake scars catching the light. The basalt outcrop contained a gritty rock that flaked poorly, unlike the colorful cherts and fine-grained quartzite tool stone One Who Cries cherished.