Singing Wolf frowned. "If all this fighting is going on, why did we beat the Others so easily?"
She met his eyes. "They didn't expect it, cousin. Always before, the People ran, left them the hunting grounds without a fight. These camps of Others became fat, lazy. All they had to do was kill a couple of the People and they could take what they wanted."
"Will they stay away then? Like Raven Hunter says?"
She shook her head. "No, they'll pass the message that you're no longer afraid and come hunting you."
"Can we stop them from passing the word?"
"No, cousin. Like us, they travel between camps. There are four large clans, each so big it has a gathering all its own. They pass a sacred mammoth hide from camp to camp to keep people informed. And the hide is guarded heavily."
"Maybe we could intercept the hide. Stop the—"
"Don't even think of doing such a thing! The hide is filled with Power. Just touching it would kill you."
Singing Wolf slammed a fist into the soft warm earth beside the fire pit. "There must be a way to stop them."
"Run. It's the only way," she insisted, a burning plea behind her eyes. "Don't you see? You've killed them. The way they believe, their dead will not go to the village of souls beneath the sea until each death has been paid for. It's honor to them, warrior's honor."
Singing Wolf filled his lungs. "You say there are many?"
' 'Like the stems of willow along the Big River.'' She shook her head. "And they have nowhere to go. Like the People, they are trapped. I've heard them. For the moment, they fear you. But what comes behind is even more terrible. The fear they have of you will melt like fat on hot coals. Those who follow are pushing the Glacier People south along the rocky coast of the southern salt water. Runners come to tell us this. The Glacier People would cut you to ribbons."
"So the Mammoth People have no other way but to take our lands?"
"Yes, and their warrior's honor requires that they hurt you in even more gruesome ways than you hurt them."
Singing Wolf's thoughts went to Laughing Sunshine and his child-to-be. Deep inside, a tremor shook his soul.
Chapter 32
Wolf Dreamer's keen eyes darted nervously back and forth between the old women. His cheeks had grown hollow, his hair hanging long on either side of his face, accenting his half-starved look. A trace of sorrow lined his young brow; pain was reflected in the set of his thin-lipped mouth. He rubbed his hands slowly back and forth while he waited, the muscles in his cheeks quivering as his jaw clenched.
"Tell me." Heron's voice came quietly across the crackle of the fire. The shelter glowed softly orange, highlighting Broken Branch's withered face.
"The People," he whispered imploringly. "My vision was hazy and wavering, but I thought I saw them dying."
Heron cradled her chin in her palms, eyelids lowered. To the side, Broken Branch listened intently. She prodded the fire with a split caribou bone.
"What else?" Heron prompted.
He shook his head. "There were women captives. Some . . . no, it just didn't come clearly."
"What did you feel?"
"I felt a presence. Like something was coming, something far over the horizon. Like the Long Dark . . . but different. He wet his lips, puzzled. "Like night coming from the west instead of the east."
Heron lifted an eyebrow. "You understand its meaning?"
"No."
"Didn't figure you did," she growled, leaning back in disappointment. "Well at least you've learned to walk. Now you have to learn some of the motions of the Dance."
"What?"
"You've got to learn some grace and stop stumbling around, or you'll kill yourself."
He frowned, feeling that familiar pit of emptiness and inadequacy spread in his stomach. "I know some things. I call the caribou."
She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. Everything flails along in its own private dance, but beyond, there's only One Dance."
She's always spouting gibberish. The One this and One that. Why can't she just come out and tell me? "I still don't understand."
She lifted a hand, dark eyes drinking in his soul, drawing him on. She pulled back the wolf-hide mats. With a scapula spoon, she dug into the fire, spreading glowing coals over the rock. They sizzled wildly in the breeze that penetrated beneath the door hanging.
Never letting her gaze leave Wolf Dreamer's eyes, she wiggled her fingers, flexing them into fists as if toning the muscles. She settled herself on her knees over the coals, silver-shot black hair swaying.
Lacing her fingers together, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, humming a haunting singsong chant. Seren-