"How'd you find us?"
"Sheep Whistle told us which way you'd gone. We hoped you'd give us help." Three Falls shuffled his feet awkwardly, eyes to the ground.
One Who Cries looked out across the figures still straggling over the far hill. "Is Sheep Whistle here? He taught me the old stories."
"He's gone, my friend. Maybe later, tonight or tomorrow, we'll gather to sing his soul to the Blessed Star People."
One Who Cries flinched. "How did it happen?"
"The Others . . . Well, the dart caught him low, just above his manhood. Bad wound, that. Gut juices got into him. He started to stink and swelled up. We carried him for as long as we could."
"And your camp?"
Three Falls slapped his darts meaningfully. "The Others moved into it. Me, some of the rest of Sheep Whistle's band,
we came to make sure the women will be safe. Then we're going after the Others to pay them back."
One Who Cries shook his head. "Last time you paid them back, they didn't stay paid. Give it up. Too many have died already." He lifted an arm toward the oncoming swell of people. "Look at the women with their hair all cut short. It's got to end someplace."
Three Falls smiled wistfully. "Feast me and my warriors tonight, One Who Cries. Feast us well. Then we'll avenge our lost relatives."
"Sounds like Raven Hunter talking through your mouth."
"He's a leader." Three Falls nodded admiringly.
"Maybe."
Three Falls' brows lowered. "We need warriors. You'll come? You and Singing Wolf and Jumping Hare?"
"No." He shook his head certainly.
"But we have to—"
"No."
"You don't care about the murders of people you loved."
"We care more about the living. Singing Wolf, Jumping Hare, and I have talked about it already. We were afraid this would happen. We're going south to follow the Wolf Dream. If you really want your women and children to be safe, come with us."
Three Falls hesitated, then shook his head. "We must go back. It's . . . honor."
"Honor?"
Three Falls straightened, eyes brightening fiercely. "Warrior's honor." He shook his darts in emphasis.
A wrenching feeling of foreboding lashed at One Who Cries. He bowed his head and nodded slowly. His People grew more like the Others every day.
Chapter 35
The People snaked along over the undulating hills, gazing across the dots of sparse dwarf birch dotting the land. Snow already hoared the northern slopes. Stubborn leaves clung in auburn patches to the limbs. Father Sun's path sank closer to the horizon every day; the brilliant yellow light of summer faded now to a dull straw color. The drainages they crossed were blanketed with frost-slick leaves that crackled beneath their feet.
Dancing Fox adjusted the tump line biting into her forehead and glared at Mouse's back. The woman grated on her nerves like weathered slate against flesh. Talon, who walked several paces ahead of Fox, turned and grinned as though reading her thoughts, then waved her forward. She trotted to catch up.
"Get away. Walk back there," Mouse ordered, pointing.,
"I walk where I please," Dancing Fox challenged, seeing Talon stop, turning. The old woman's eyes gleamed darkly.
"Your soul is cursed. I don't want you around my baby. You walk behind. Give us decent people some peace."
Dancing Fox moved like lightning, work-tough fingers clamping around Mouse's windpipe. As the woman croaked and struggled, Dancing Fox leaned close, peering into her eyes.
"The man who cursed me is a false Dreamer; he has no Power. That means his curse was meaningless." She tightened her grip, making Mouse gasp frantically. The woman futilely batted at her face. "Understand?"
She shoved Mouse backward, hard. The woman's stagger made the infant under her hood start to bawl shrilly.
Mouse rubbed her throat, staring wide-eyed at Dancing Fox. "You . . . you're crazy," she coughed.
Dancing Fox smiled grimly. "Remember that. There's no telling what I might do if I'm crossed." Coolly, she turned on her heel and walked on, aware of Singing Wolf running back to see what the commotion was all about.
She had no more trouble with Mouse that night or any
other. But she noticed that when any of the other women were near, they kept their eyes lowered. Respect? Or fear? Only Talon looked at her, winking in silent endorsement. Dancing Fox walked straighter, weapons held proudly.
Wolf Dreamer floated in the hot spring, Heron's sweet chanting buoying him, enfolding him. The lapping of the waves caressed his naked flesh.
"Lose yourself in the song," Heron instructed. "Free yourself. Move with the sounds. Dream this world away. It doesn't exist. Nothing exists but the Dance."