"You haven't eaten in two days. Moon Water is getting nervous about your health."

"Your daughter is always nervous about my health. You'd think I was twenty years younger and she had an eye for raising my children."

Red Flint spread his hands, a neutral expression on his face. "She doesn't need you twenty years younger."

Ice Fire turned back to watch the flying strands of geese where they winged south. "I had a wife once .. . and a vision after that. That's enough women for one lifetime."

Red Flint shifted, boots grating on the gravel. "I know." It came subdued. "I wasn't serious about Moon Water. But she would, you know.

She's worshiped you since she was little and you threw her up in the air and told her stories."

He laughed at the memory of the squealing round-faced girl, her hairflying out as he tossed her high and caught her. "She should be looking for a young man."

"Enough of Moon Water. You've been preoccupied." Red Flint settled himself on the rock just below Ice Fire's point of vantage. "What is it, Most Respected Elder? What do you see out here? What should we know?"

Ice Fire laced his fingers around his knee, leaning back, eyes still on the southern distance. Even from here, he could see the hills rising.

The big gravel-braided river shone a deep blue, white-tipped rapids foaming over submerged rocks. For days he'd prayed to the Great Mystery, begging for a vision, an explanation of the tension mounting to a violent crescendo inside his breast--but no answer had come.

"I can't tell yet. Only," he whispered, placing a weather hardened hand to his heart, "I feel it here. The long wait is almost over, old friend."

"Is that good?"

Ice Fire smiled grimly. "No, but it's not bad either."

"Then what?"

"The Great Mystery's path is opening before us. Good or bad, who knows?

What matters is that things will be different, and we'll be changed forever."

Red Flint listened, nodding slightly, a skeptical frown on his deeply lined face. "When you talk this way, I hear your words .. . but I'm never really sure I know what you mean."

Ice Fire smiled warmly. As he laid a gentle hand on his friend's arm, he said, "Neither am I, usually. And it wouldn't matter. We couldn't change anything even if we did." Desperately, calling out with fear, One Who Cries held on. His fingers slipped on the wood as the buffalo whirled, spinning with incredible speed. Thick muscles straining, fingers tearing out of their sockets, he fought to keep his hold. His heart pumped, and the world flipped and spun in a blur as his feet lost their grip.

His body slapped to the ground as the buffalo slipped on the ice. The dart shaft snapped in his hand, while the breath in his lungs blasted past his lips.

One Who Cries lay stunned, unable to move as his eyes widened in horror.

The buffalo kicked itself to its feet, showering him with icy crystals.

He looked into pain-glazed angry eyes as the buffalo thrashed its head, b.l.o.o.d.y snot slinging in an arc. Hot breath puffed in the cold air as the animal's muscles bunched in the shoulders and hips.

He's going to kill me! One Who Cries watched, unable to move, as the buffalo shot forward, head twisting to hook him with the long black horn.

He opened his mouth to scream.

No sound came.

The buffalo whipped around at the last moment, the mighty back feet splattering him with dirty snow and gravel. Another dart shaft stuck outat an odd angle, the buffalo's flank quivering as if to drive off a vicious bott fly.

"Hey! Whoooo!" someone screamed from the side. The buffalo backed away, wet hooves shining blackly as they danced before One Who Cries' nose.

Another step back and .. .

The buffalo gave a startled jump as another dart slapped into its side.

One Who Cries heard the huge animal grunt from the sting of sharp stone in its flank. Towering over him, a fuzzy black-brown ma.s.s, it swayed on its feet, breathing in grunting rasps.

One Who Cries swallowed, struggling to suck air into his spasming lungs.

Turning his head, he could see blood drooling down between the animal's front legs. As he watched, the buffalo's beard lowered between its legs.

The animal staggered to one side.

He gasped as his lungs caught, fighting for breath. He heard the buffalo's feet stamping the ground as the animal turned-reminded of his presence. The creature swayed, fighting for balance.

To the side, more desperate calls and screams echoed in the chill afternoon, trying to distract the animal.

One Who Cries struggled to rise through a haze of pain that lanced his body, blinking up at the huge beast, who was moving slowly because of the pain.

The buffalo, sides convulsing with each breath, wheezed. The huge head raised, the big body trembling as more darts. .h.i.t home.

One Who Cries gripped his broken dart shaft, jabbing it up. Hate-crazed eyes locked on his, the buffalo sighting down its long horn. One Who Cries thrust the splintered shaft into the mad beast's eye, making the animal flinch.

Yipping, One Who Cries rolled away, the huge horn driving deeply into the frozen soil, pinning his parka to the ground.

One Who Cries whimpered, waiting for the pain.

He squirmed, fear lending his ravaged body strength. Nothing happened.

"Now that's a sight."

One Who Cries looked up at the calm voice, seeing Jumping Hare peering down, shaking his head.

"Never seen anything like it," Singing Wolf added in mock awe before c.o.c.king his head and sucking his lips. "Looks like he's bleeding to death."

One Who Cries glared, wiping the dirt and blood from his face. He started to vault up--only to be reminded he was still pinned by the buffalo horn. The huge animal trembled slightly and relaxed as One Who Cries yipped again.

"It's the point." One Who Cries studied the dart he'd taken from the bison's side. "This is the first one I threw. See, caught the rib and shattered." He lifted a section of rib to show everyone where thelenticular point had embedded in bone and snapped off. Then he pointed to a blunted stone point which had fractured upon impact.

"See, you can't help it when you hit a rib. That's part of the job. But this one"--he picked up a second dart--"didn't hit any rib. I cast, it hit, and the buffalo turned." He twitched his lips as he looked at the blood-caked point still hafted to a forearm's length of splintered shaft.

He scratched his head. "I couldn't think what to do as those horns started hooking for me, so I grabbed the dart. Figured that was the safest. But it didn't go in all the way. Where the point is bound to the shaft, it's too thick. Makes a big knot so the point doesn't cut all the way into the animal."

"So?" Green Water lifted an eyebrow in question. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Get a lot of new clothes." Jumping Hare laughed, holding his nose as he indicated One Who Cries' filthy, torn parka. The smell of buffalo blood still hung cloyingly in the air.

One Who Cries growled and glared through slitted eyes. "I'm going to make a better point."

"The People have been making points like that forever," Singing Wolf told him hotly. "That's how points are made."

"Why?"

"Because that's how, that's why."

One Who Cries fingered his chin thoughtfully, looking at the point. "The problem's the hafting. Too thick."

"I told you," Jumping Hare reminded from the side.

"Make the shaft thinner."

"Then it's too weak," One Who Cries argued. "Our darts already break too easily. Willow and dwarf birch are crummy--"

"You've got to use that much binding," Jumping Hare insisted. "If you don't, the point slips sideways when it hits."

"A thinner point?" One Who Cries turned it sideways to the fire, closing one eye to squint down the length of the ripple-flaked stone. "That's not the way the People make points," Singing Wolf declared. "It's bad enough with Runs In Light stirring things up. Now you want to go changing the People's point?"

"Uh-huh," One Who Cries murmured, lost in thought as he fingered the stone. "Going someplace?"

Runs In Light started, grasping his darts, looking owlishly up at the jagged gray rocks above.

"If I'd been Grandfather Brown Bear, I'd have had you for dinner."

Broken Branch smacked toothless jaws. "And from the looks of you, a poor one at that. You call yourself a hunter? Walking along, eyes to theground?"

He puffed relief, fear draining from his charged muscles. "What are you doing out here?"

"Me? What are you doing out here?" She cackled, sliding down the polished glacial rock. He didn't answer, instead reaching up to grip her hands in support. They felt birdlike in his. When she reached the ground, she stared up at him, brown eyes sharp.

"You're going back?" he asked, fearing her answer would be a part of the vision.

"My legs hurt. Heron's pool made me feel ten seasons younger. Besides, I've been to the Renewals. I've danced enough thanks that if Father Sun doesn't know how I feel by now, he never will. There's nothing there for me anymore."

He watched the gray strands of her hair being tugged by the wind.

"And you? Where are you heading?"

He hesitated, not really sure he knew: a leaf in a gale, pirouetting to some unknown Power's whim. "I'm .. ."

"I'd say you were following the tracks of the People," she said, eyeing him inquisitively. "Long walk that, longer than this old woman wants to make."

He dropped his eyes, hands knotting on the dart shafts until his knuckles stood out white.

"Given up, huh? Couldn't stand the thought of making your Dreaming powerful? Gonna go suck up to Crow Caller? Be a laughingstock?" She shook her head dismally. "Wolf should have chosen better."

"What I do, Grandmother, is my business."

"Suppose so." With her fingers, she shooed him away. "Then go on. Be about it. Me, I got important things to do. I haven't lived my life all away yet." And she hobbled off the way he'd come. Runs In Light gritted his teeth, heart pounding sickeningly. He turned, running to catch up.

"Go on," she growled, making tracks, bent back swaying with each step.

"Go grovel at Crow Caller's feet. Me, I'm fine. I been stumbling about these plains since before your mother sucked a full teat, and her mother before her."

"But I .. ."

"What? Speak up, boy. Wind Woman's been blasting my ears so long they're stopped up."

"I never knew my mother," he said lamely, just wanting to keep her talking, needing reinforcement for the decision that tore at the depths of his soul.

"You never .. . No, of course not! She died bringing that smirking brother of yours alive. Even then he was backward. Came out feet first Flies Like A Seagull tried to turn him, but, well .. . You know. Thingshappen. He was trouble even then. He'll be more trouble now that he's older. Works that way. I always thought maybe you could temper his violent side, but I guess not."

"His violence was always more powerful than my--"

"Oh, I know it. So did old Seagull. She loved your gentleness, reminded her of her lost daughter. Did you know she'd lost a daughter before she got you?"

He shook his head impatiently.

"Yes, that girl was born funny. Part of her lower back was open. Spine all sticking out, no skin or bone over it. Ugly thing, that child. Never did have use of her legs. Died pretty quick, but not before Seagull came to love her. She was sure happy to get you two. Filled the need in her and she could put her milk to use." Broken Branch cackled suddenly, slapping her thigh. "She used to wince something fierce when that brother of yours clamped down on her. Grew teeth early. Guess he's still got 'em--and they're fangs, to be sure."

He nodded heartily to himself. "He's bit me a time or two."

She cackled again, smiling broadly. "He's bit everybody at least once."

"Broken Branch," he began uncomfortably. "Did you know then that Raven Hunter and I were only half-People?"

She shrugged, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Some of us thought it, but your mother wouldn't say and we didn't really care anyway."

"How could you not care?" he pleaded incredulously. "They're our enemies!" "Because the happiest days of all are days when babies come to the People. Keeps us and our ways alive. You belonged to us, not them.

We wanted you."

He inhaled a deep breath, battling with himself, shoving at the fears roiling through him, silently screaming in confusion.

She looked up at him from the corner of her eye. "How long has that been bothering you?"

He waved a hand negligently. "Since Heron told me."

"Well, forget about it. When you reached five Long Darks and a human soul came to live in you, it was a soul of the People, not the soul of an Other."

"But I still have the blood of the Others running in my veins."

"Turn it into a trail between two worlds, then, if it worries you."

"A trail between ..." The words echoed in his head: trail .. . between .. . worlds .. .

"Sure, someday we're going to have to face them. Put that blood of yours to use. Just like old Seagull did her milk."