He stood uncomfortably, thinking. They'd hunted, Dreamed the caribou in again. And this time, he thought he'd heard a single breath of the One voice they shared. But had he? Or had he simply imagined it? Heron's steps crunched over gravel behind him and he turned, smiling at her.
"Come," she said, heading for her shelter.
He followed, eyes losing focus in the narrow darkness. She threw a finely tanned hide at him, which he caught before it touched the ground.
"The flies are gone. The frost has sent them to hiding. How many days since you've eaten?"
"Three."
"Go high. At least a day from here. Remember the Dance. Dream."
He took the robe and turned, pausing to look back. "I called them all the way this time, didn't I?"
She studied him, thoughtful. "I did nothing. You called; they came. We killed enough for winter. We'll have fat for the cold times. Meat for strength."
"I thought . . ."He hesitated, afraid to mention it lest it be a false perception.
"What?"
"For a moment, I thought I heard a breath of the One."
"What did it sound like?"
"It didn't have a sound . . . really."
A wry smile lit her face. "Then maybe you did hear it. Is there a 'voice' we share with the animals that goes deeper than the world we think we hear around us?" A veiled look in her eye, she waved him away. "Go Dream. Listen for it."
Uneasy, he walked into the light, turning his steps west toward the ice-shrouded mountains. She always did that, left him wondering what was real . . . what was imaginary. Had they come to his call? Was there really only One voice for the One Life? Or had it been accident that they'd walked into his trap? What was real?
This year, the shelters looked shabby, worn, poorly repaired. Dancing Fox led the way down the slope slowly, aware that Talon hobbled painfully behind. The old woman wasn't as strong as she'd been before. Since the starving days when they'd left Buffalo Back's camp, some part of Talon's soul had been diminished. She hobbled along, little more than an ancient wraith in hide rags.
Before them, the camp stretched, nestled on the edge of
the marshy flats, muskeg spreading out into the northern horizon in a green haze. The flies and mosquitoes would be miserable here this year. To the east, the Big River raced in a torrential flood, overfilling its banks to drown portions of muskeg. To the south, behind the camp, the rumpled gray hills rose to obscure the horizon until they merged with the mandibular teeth of the glacier-patched western mountains.
From the smattering of shelters on the terrace overlooking the muskeg, winding spirals of blue smoke rose toward the
sky. The odors of cooking meat, wet dog, and camp trash already carried on the air. A rack of fish had been placed beside a shelter to dry; a young boy with a stick guarded it from the dogs. People sat around smoldering fires, hiding in the smudge while they talked and gestured.
"You don't have to wait for me," Talon called, voice thin and wavery. "Go. Go find your Runs In Light. I'll be along."
With a fleeting smile, Dancing Fox began to break into a run—and stopped short, a cold chill in her heart.
"Why did you stop?"
"Crow Caller. He'll be there. So will all the others who survived. The story of his casting me out will have gone around. No, Grandmother, I want you to walk in with me."
Talon studied her from the corner of her eye. "Not ready to go it alone, eh?"
Dancing Fox fought a flush of embarrassment. "I ... Maybe. Still, no matter what I think, I owe it to you. We go together. It would be ... more proper."
Why do I lie?
The dogs saw them first, running out yapping, growling, snarling, their hair stiff and menacing. Dancing Fox slapped them away with her darts. Children followed on the heels of the dogs, calling "Who comes? Who comes?"
"This is Talon," she called. "I'm Dancing Fox."
An older boy, evidently the leader, stopped short, kicking one of the big dogs out of the way, a deep frown on his forehead. He was tall and thin, his face long and eyes small. "Are you the wife Crow Caller cursed?"
Dancing Fox stiffened. "I am."
The boy's eyes narrowed. "You supposed to be around a Renewal? Your soul won't do anything? Cause sickness or the Others to find us?"
Talon brushed past her shoulder. "Who are you, young brat? Did no one teach you manners?" She charged him on her thin sticks of legs, the youth's eyes going wide as he scrambled back.
"I'm sorry!" he bawled. "Forgive, Grandmother. I didn't mean you. I was only . . . only—"
"Only acting like an animal!" Talon spat. "Oh, your parents will hear! I promise that. And so will the leader. This may have been a bad year, but that's no excuse for sniveling