A shout rose from the People, half-thankful, half-hopeful. Now was the time to feast! They began to disperse toward the cooking fires, voices increasing in volume again.
"There is more!" Raven Hunter strode into the eerie crimson firelight, sensing the reticence of his followers, feeling them come forward despite their reservations.
Crow Caller turned, his blind white eye oddly lit in the flames.
"While you danced," Raven Hunter began, "I went away. Four went with me." He stared from face to face, watching the wide curious eyes. "We return victorious!"
Only the hiss of the fire broke the stillness as he held up the dart he'd torn from the Other's chest. People cocked their heads, waiting.
Raising his hands, Raven Hunter displayed the deadly pro-
jectile, black with dried blood. "Here, my people, is victory."
Crow Caller eased forward, black eye sharp. "You killed an animal! You know no one kills during the ceremony of Thanks. How could you—"
"Not one of our four-legged brothers." Raven Hunter smiled cynically. "I commit no sacrilege."
From the uneasy crowd, a voice called, "Then what?" Whispers of disdain and curiosity rose.
"Together"—Raven Hunter gestured to his group—"we, men of the People, have killed Others." In the sudden babble, he roared, "Others who killed the People of Geyser's band. Killed our relatives as they pushed them from the land of our ancestors—pushed them from the big herds!"
"No!" an old man cried, stepping forward. "We don't kill! It's not our way. We're peace—"
"We can't run anymore!" Raven Hunter bellowed, shaking his bloody dart. "This land is ours. Ours! Where else can we go? Into the Big Ice? Into the salt water? We're cornered!"
"They'll come to kill us!" The old man turned to the brooding crowd. "This is not the way of the People. We do not kill men! It is Raven Hunter who has brought their wrath down on us. What will we—"
Strikes Lightning pushed forward. "They killed my father. Geyser. I . . . I ran from them last season! You hear, Grandfather? I'm tired of running. Listen, all of you. They can be beaten, pushed back to the place they came from! Hear Raven Hunter, he has found a way."
"This isn't our way!"
"Cowards!" Raven Hunter accused, stilling the old man's words in his throat. "Have we no right to keep our land? To protect our women and children?"
"But the Others—"
"You think they'll leave us alone if we leave them alone'?"
"Why not?" the old man challenged. "We don't threaten them."
Raven Hunter clenched his teeth, rage stirring his voice to boom over the assembly. "Did they leave Geyser's people alone? Huh?" His arm shot out to the tall man beside him. "Ask Strikes Lightning. They murdered his entire family."
The old man shuffled his feet nervously. "I'm sorry for the boy, but Geyser must have done something to the Others to make them angry enough to kill—"
"Nothing!" Strikes Lightning insisted bitterly. "We did nothing!"
Raven Hunter let the silence hang heavy for a moment before shouting, "Nothing except compete for the herds!"
"Then we must teach them we mean them no harm. We'll share the animals."
"You'd have us open our arms to murderers? Accept them? Teach them of Father Sun and the Blessed Star People? Show them how to live like people?" Raven Hunter paused, running his grimy sleeve across his mouth as he stared into the somber, silent gathering. "They want nothing from us but our blood!"
His charge echoed across the grassy plain.
Several of the young men grunted affirmation. The old ones muttered uneasily under their breaths. An old woman covered her face with a fox hide, rocking back and forth, moaning.
Mouse pushed her way through the crowd, coming to stand by Strikes Lightning, her husband. "My boy is dead," she called unsteadily. "What use is the Other who killed him? He's not of the People ... or the People's way! I am proud that my husband killed this Other! Hear me! How many must weep? How many of you will fall to their darts this coming year? Think on that before you mutter behind your hands."
"She's right!" Raven Hunter roared, a knotted fist to the sky. "Did Father Sun put us here for the sport of these Others? You've seen Grandfather Brown Bear play with a salmon, fling it around for his enjoyment, toss it, pounce upon it, and leave it to rot because his belly was full. I for one, will not be toyed with by the Others.
"From now on, be it known, I will fight and kill to keep the land of my fathers!'" He thrust the dart deeply into the ground, a blood-black totem. Angrily, he crossed his arms, staring back at them, feet braced. The light of the bonfire flickered over his angry features, glinting in his black eyes.