People of the Wolf(98)

He bowed his head and nodded. "I've no doubts that you'll win it back for us."

Sleep did not come for Ice Fire that night. Like a dying salmon after the spawn, he twirled and twisted in his robes. The sea bundle called repeatedly, but he couldn't quite make out its words; it disturbed him deeply.

Wind tousled the door flap, revealing stars glistening in the dark bowl of the sky. He inhaled a deep tired breath and concentrated on the feel of the cold breeze washing over his face.

"Man of the Others," a voice called hauntingly.

He tensed, heart pounding. Holding his breath, he waited, knowing the Watcher's touch.

"I see you there," she said. "You can't hide." Her scratchy voice echoed around him like the pounding of the surf.

Rubbing hands over his eyes, he blinked anxiously around the lodge, finally rasping, "Who are you?"

"Heron. I've known you for years, man of the Others— since that day you raped—"

"I remember." He winced, memories stirring. Then, like now, the feeling had been that of a Dream. A feeling so strong, it had fooled him that day. Now it washed around him, a tangible presence that brought him bolt upright.

"Such a powerful Dreaming," he whispered.

"Are you ready to talk to me?"

"Yes." He pushed his hides back, feeling the presence wrap around his soul. Locking his mind on the essence, he stirred the fire—now gone to dull red embers—looking deeply into the coals.

"I'm here. ..." she called, guiding his attempt to see. "Here. "

A face formed in the crimson glow. She was old; silver-

shot hair lay in waves over her shoulders. Even in her age, she remained a striking beauty.

"I see you," he whispered, voice low so as not to disturb the other sleepers. "Such Power ... is it you who stands before us, drives your warriors against us?"

Heron shook her head, image shimmering in the rising heat of the fire. "Your son is responsible. You know him, don't you? The one born of blood?"

'.'No, I don't know him."

"Too bad. I'd hoped you'd seen him in your visions* He's a man of partial Dreams, glimmerings of greatness. He's unschooled, impetuous. Like a caribou bull driven mad by flies, he charges ahead, heedless of the consequences."

"What does he have to do with—"

"He'll be the death of your people."

Cold fear constricted around his heart. "How? Your people are too few to stand against us. He can't—"

"Not alone. Why don't you ask about your other son?"

A tickle of icy sweat threaded down the side of his face. "The boy with the rainbow. You . . . know him?"

"Wolf Dreamer," she whispered, a curious awe in her tone. "He's powerful, man of the Others. Powerful like I could only wish."

"He'll join with his brother to destroy us?" Ice Fire shook his head wearily. ' 'They can't. Not even with the help of your potent magic. We'll trample them—and you—into the snow." But he knew his fear showed on his taut face.

She cocked her head curiously. "Did you know that once, long ago, your people and mine were one tribe? We can be again."

"The same people?" He studied her serious expression. "If we were . . . why did we split?"

"Over the Dreaming. Your clans drove us out because they feared us as magicians. Thought we could witch a person's soul and pitch it into the void. That's why you're the only Dreamer among the Mammoth People—you killed the bloodline. Fools ..."

"We didn't kill it," he said, heart thundering at mention of his sons. "We gave it to you."

"A very great gift, but it'll destroy you."

Anger and dread mixed into a terrible brew inside him. He raised both fists to the sky and screamed, "How! Tell me!"

"Your sons are coming for you. Coming from different directions, but coming."

The coals flickered and shifted as if they were underwater, and the Dream vanished.

Folding his arms over his chest, he hung his head and hugged himself, shivering violently in the cold. "My sons ..."





Chapter 40



Wolf Dreamer stood on the cloud-capped ridge, watching the People wind toward him. Tender emotions of warmth caressed his breast. They'd returned, safe and sound. His eyes searched for old friends.

A gray curtain of snow slashed at the undulating plain, roaring up behind One Who Cries as he led his band around the twisted glacial rocks. Wind Woman battered at them, breath like a knife in the chill of oncoming evening.

Wavering voices came to him on the gale.

"Thought we wouldn't make it!" Singing Wolf called, a smile on his lips as he pointed to the puffing billows of Heron's geyser where the steam blew away in torn clouds. "Looked like the storm would get us first."