"And it takes away freedom?"
"Can't help but take it away." Talon shrugged. "Thank goodness, though, that Father Sun was smart enough to give the burden of babies to us. Hard to say what would happen if he'd given those fool men the responsibility. People would have died off of stupidity clear back when Father Sun blew life into us after we fell from the stars."
Dancing Fox ran a finger absently along the dart tip. Could I stand to be near him? Could I stand to see him every day without holding him close? Could I give up Runs In Light to live in exile out here by myself? She swallowed hard, looking
up, to the sun. The time for Renewal grew closer. A slow ache built under her heart.
"For him," she whispered, "I could give this up." Talon nodded, exhaling heavily. "I think maybe you're being foolish ... but I understand."
A summer like none he could have imagined. Blue Sky Man glowed above, his ponderous belly only hidden by occasional clouds. The flies, mosquitoes, and gnats rolled across the green land in droves. Sprigs of willow and dwarf birch rose from the rocks, lining the yellow-caked sides of the stream. Broken Branch smiled in the sun, eagerly attacking the moss and plants with her digging stick, creating feast after feast for dinner. Blossoms, sweet and delicate, scented the slow breezes in a rich promise of bear berries. Sour dock and wild rhubarb greened above the verdant blaze of willow and alder.
Overhead, flights of snow geese, ducks, and chattering ravens passed in a whir of wings. Curlew called lonely from the ponds to the east. Eagles twisted and turned, spiraling against the endless blue.
Wolf Dreamer floated in the spring, blessing the stink of the geyser that kept the columns of bloodsucking black flies and mosquitoes at bay. The day before, he had marched to the big river with Heron. The tumult of the water had shaken him to his bones. Such Power, such violence, the very ground reverberated from the tormented sandy flood.
"Never seen it this high," she muttered, looking across the rush. "Never."
"Where does it all come from?"
She turned, features stony. "Your Big Ice, Wolf Dreamer."
So much? Only the salt water was so large—and almost tame compared to the river thrashing its way to the north.
He settled back, letting the warm water support him, and cleared his mind. Peace filled him. The battle had almost been won. Time after time, he'd forced himself, each attempt bringing longer and longer spans of silence. Heron had been patient.
"Not even a child learns to walk in a day," she'd reminded.
The feeling of water lapping at his sides, slapping in his
ears, soothed him. The voice of the water, he'd discovered, resembled human speech. Lulls punctuated the noise, lulls of pure silence.
By some sense, he felt her presence, raising his head to watch her disrobe. Even in her old age, Heron's beauty remained. Her breasts, though sagged with age, still held an allure as did her flat stomach, unspoiled by children. Firm legs and arms bespoke the graceful essence of woman.
And Dancing Fox? Would she have that look at Heron's age? He tried to picture her, the image of her bursting youth forming in his mind. She walked in his imagination, hips swinging, eyes sparkling promise as she made for him. His manhood hardened.
Her hair would shine blue black in the sun, tumbling down over her smooth shoulders. She dove seallike into the pool, water rippling from her brown back. Beside him, she came up, breasts bobbing. Her touch would be light on his skin as she reached for him. He would turn, stroke her, holding her close as her legs went around him. He could feel her as she opened herself, ready to ...
"You have something in your mind?" Heron asked, popping the image, causing him to start. Water rushed into his nose, leaving him coughing and sneezing as he struggled to get his feet under him.
A wicked light gleamed in her eye. She looked at his hard maleness, protruding from the water. "Not this old woman. Too old . . . even for a handsome boy like you."
He gasped, rolling in the water to hide himself, shame running hot in his veins.
She laughed, diving under the water, forcing him to turn again to hide himself.
Her old eyes twinkled as her head broke the surface. He huddled there, chin barely above water. "I'm still a man," he challenged, anger covering embarrassment. "Dreaming doesn't take that away from you."
She wiped her face of the crystal beads of water and chuckled dryly. "Oh, you're a man all right. Seems they think of only one thing." Then: "But excuse an old woman. People coupling, that's part of the Dance."
He swirled the water with his hands, hoping the shimmer-
ing ripples obscured what the water revealed. Desire drained; he felt better.
"It wasn't you I was thinking of."