She moved to sit on a rock, the water lapping about her waist. "Ah, a young woman?" She looked out over the willows, partially shaded now by the stark white font of geyser steam. "Is she waiting for you?"
"She's not . . . Crow Caller took her as a wife." He splashed frustration. "She ate of the wolf, accepted the Dream . . . but she followed him. A wife doesn't ..."
"Run off with another man," she finished. "But she could have."
"It would have brought dishonor. She would never—"
"More likely she fears Crow Caller. Fears what he would do to her." She wrung water from her hair, appraising his defiant glare. "What's this I see in your eyes? A bad case of young love?"
"Don't," he warned. The pain of losing Dancing Fox seared his chest.
She nodded, giving in. "I won't torment you about her. . Her love is your burden."
"Burden?" he gasped incredulously. "More like solace."
"I think you'll see it differently in the near future."
"Didn't you ever long for a man? Didn't you love your Bear Hunter?" He regretted the words as he spoke them.
She watched him, impassive for several moments. "Yes, I did. Would have given anything for him. Thought about killing Broken Branch when she weaseled her way into his robes."
"Why didn't you go back? As ... pretty as you are, any man would have come here with you."
She shook her head, sighing. "No, no man." Looking to the sky, she worked her lips. "Wolf Dreamer, you must know this. Dreaming—real Dreaming—doesn't leave room for a mate. When a man and woman are together, they take a part of each other. His or her problems become yours. Coupling produces children. No way around it. Children demand all your attention—and they deserve it. So much work goes into turning an infant from an animal into a human being. Children have no sense of time, they need attention now. You
can't Dream when your child is hungry, or has a question, or gets cut on a chert flake."
"That's why you're still here after all these years?"
"That's why. No man, no temptation. Just me and my thoughts and Dreams. I made that decision when Bear Hunter went to Broken Branch." She smiled wearily. "And I was young then, hurt. I didn't want to have to see him . . . and her."
"And now she's here."
Heron tilted her head. "It's been a long time. He's many Long Darks dead. Both Broken Branch and I have changed. And she's brought me a different man. One more important than a lover could ever have been.
"Oh, I could wonder about what-if's, but if you look hard enough, there's a purpose, a reason why everything happens. Maybe you were calling me ... even then.''
He frowned, moving up to sit beside her. "You're sure it was me in your Dream?"
Her eyes left no mistake.
"But why would you Dream of me?"
She drew a full breath. "You're important to the People somehow. Maybe we'll all die if you don't find that hole in the ice."
A tremor of anxiety touched him. He fumbled with the gritty surface of a rock. "What should I do about Dancing Fox? She fills my thoughts more every day. I can't concentra—"
"Your choice, Wolf Dreamer." The brown orbs of her eyes revealed nothing. "These gifts of yours, they're powerful. I see you changing. The man you were, the one she knew, doesn't exist anymore. Worse, you're growing so quickly into someone different, she'll hardly know you when she meets you again. Will she understand? More importantly, will you want to go back to what you were before the Dreaming?"
"You tell me. You've walked this path."
"I have no answers for you, but I can tell you the Dreaming is like eating a spirit plant. Once started, you can't get enough. It fills you, drives you, guides you."
"Constantly? Isn't there time for—"
"Constantly."
He frowned, watching steam twirl over his head. "That's a heavy price to—"
"A terrible price."
He propped his chin on one knee, staring unblinking into her serious eyes. Wet strands of silver-shot hair draped over her breasts. A grim smile curled her lips. "Is the salvation of the People worth it?"
Chapter 27
Branches of dwarf birch and willow twined through the mist of the hot springs, stretching into the turquoise sky. The yellowish green crust on the boulders at the edge of the pool sparkled in the golden sunlight.
Wolf Dreamer shook aside the sweat-dampened ends of his" long hair where they clung in curls to his forehead; his oval face glistened with sweat. He watched as Broken Branch used a hand-sized stone and flat rock to pound the dried corpses of ground squirrels into paste. She mixed the flesh with mashed berries, then slid handfuls into caribou intestine. After each handful, she poured hot fat into the ropy sack. Broken Branch rammed home the whole lumpy mass with a stick until the gut bulged.