She studied him speculatively. "What do you know of Heron? Of Wolf Dreamer?"

He leaned back, face going serious. "I .. . met him in a Dream. You see he's ... my son."

She straightened. "You're his father?"

The edges of his lips twitched. "Yes, his and Raven Hunter's. That's why I couldn't let him die--despite what he'd become." His eyes flickered to hers. "Is that a terrible weakness? That I couldn't kill my son?"

She thought about it, a tenderness in her breast that he would confide in her. "No, I don't think so." She shifted, reclining, pulling her hairto the side. "All of us, all people, have to cherish our children.

They're the future."

He played with a frayed corner of the white fox cloak. A corner--she noted--that had become smudged from fingering, the hair mostly gone, worn away. More than anything else, the action made him less powerful--a frail human like herself.

"The future," he repeated. "Yes. That's why I couldn't watch Raven Hunter die--no matter that he'd earned it."

She inspected him, the wariness back. "For the mutilations and retaliation?"

At her cooling tone, he looked up. For a moment, he searched her eyes, then shook his head slightly. "For being what he is." He paused. "Let's see, how do I explain." His hands molded the air before him. "A man, or woman for that matter, is body and soul; agreed?"

She nodded, waiting.

"The body can be flawed. Maybe born without fingers, maybe it's not strong enough to stand the cold, or it coughs and dies, or it's stillborn." He shifted again, straining for the right words. "It's the same with the soul. In Raven Hunter's case, something is missing. He's preoccupied with himself . with this obsession for Power. And the problem is that he has glimpses, visions of what could be. Only he doesn't have the ability to extend that part of soul and share the ident.i.ty. Understand?" "Share the ident.i.ty," she mused, bracing her chin on her palm.

"Yes," he whispered, handsome lines of his face puckering. "A healthy soul can extend itself, put itself in the place of another creature's experiences. From that comes wisdom. I learned it long ago." He stared at the fire, a sadness deep in his eyes. "Raven Hunter, however, has none of that compa.s.sion, that extension of the soul." She reached over, touching his shoulder, meeting his eyes as he looked up. "But you saved him anyway?"

For a long moment, they stared into each other's eyes. He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not all that compa.s.sionate." He looked around, seeing Singing Wolf's slack face in the back where he slept soundly. "Perhaps I'm as much a monster as Raven Hunter. I provided him with the opportunity to steal the White Hide."

She started. "You let him steal the .. ."

Ice Fire lifted a shoulder. "It's a means to an end which needs to be met." He gestured, mouth working, a conspiratorial light in his eye. He lowered his voice and she bent closer. "You must tell no one. Not your people, and especially none of mine. I've seen where my son Wolf Dreamer is going. I know the future of the People is in the south. And I know we were one, once, long ago. I don't know why, but somehow, I was set up.

My wife died. My life changed. I loved her with all my heart. And when she'd been taken, I left. Just like that. Men who've been hurt terribly, they do strange things sometimes. We were camped along the salt water at the time, down where the land bends south, where the southern sea is only a month's journey away. That camp's under the water now, long buried, but something drove me east along the coast.""Something drove you?"

"At night, Dreams haunted me. My wife filled them, and I felt the presence of another woman. Like me, her soul cried out over the loss of a loved one." He studied her. "I don't know if you can understand, but I thought it was a Spirit Woman--to take the place of my wife." He swallowed. "Then, one day, I awoke, and the Dream was powerful. I walked in a daze, hearing a calling--a powerful calling. It stirred me and I felt desire for the first time since my wife had died. And then I saw her. Beautiful." He reached up, gently touching Fox's long hair, a reverence in his eyes as he ran his fingers along her face.

"I knew it was the Dream woman. I ... I stalked her, afraid she'd disappear into the mists, back into the sea. That fear drove me to a madness, and when she saw me, and ran, I chased her down." His hands knotted and he closed his eyes. "I took her there on the sand, the Dream pounding in my ears. With each movement of my body, the Power built until my soul sang and seemed to explode with the glory of it.

"And I came to, lying there on her, totally spent. And I looked down into her eyes and saw pain and hurt and disbelief all rush up at me."

He frowned at the fire. "And I realized what I'd done. The edges of the Dream were there, the Spirit Woman watching from someplace else through a Dream. And I knew it wasn't that girl, so beautiful, so vulnerable.

When I looked into those shattered eyes, I knew I could have loved her.

That she could have loved me. Only Heron's Dream changed it. It wasn't supposed to have happened like that. And the children that rape bore were different, changed by the violence of their conception. Circles within circles, everything changed and no reason why. Like a spiral, which is the outside and which the in?"

She stared at him, soul drifting in his soft eyes. "And you think it would have all been different without Heron?"

He nodded miserably. "The woman on the beach and I, we were to love, to unite the People. Instead, so many died. Raiding began because I wasn't the one to return with a wife of the People--to link our clans which had been split so long ago."

"Perhaps Heron had her reasons. I hear she was driven by things beyond her, too."

He nodded contemplatively. "Maybe."

"Didn't you tell your--"

"I've told "no one the whole truth. Oh, Red Flint knows some of the story. But not the Power of the symbolism. He doesn't know how important it is for us to go south. If he did, he'd probably kill me on the spot and a.s.sume the Most Respected Elder robe, despite the fact that visions scare him to death."

Dancing Fox touched his hand, feeling his fingers twine strongly with hers. "Why did you tell me?"

"I don't know." He focused on the fire a moment, then asked, "Tell me about you? What drives you?"

"The survival of my people."Ice Fire's eyes deepened and she seemed to fall into them. "And what would you give for that survival?"

"Anything."

"I know a way."

She probed his gentle expression cautiously. "Tell me about it."

"Will you trust me? Take me and a handful of my young men to your camp beyond the Big Ice to get the White Hide back? If your people were to return it as a gesture of goodwill, and my clan were to offer gifts of clothing, food, and new shelters, we might be able to forge a new people."

"Or reforge an old one?"

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "Yes. Then you think we could share the south together?" "Together." The word rested easily on the tip of her tongue. "I've been alone for so long, I'm not sure what that means anymore."

His warm smile caressed her heart. "Nor do I, but it's part of the Dream. A chance to reunite that which should have never been sundered."

She peered into the fire, watching the rose-amber flames lick at the rocks lining the pit. Slowly, her eyes shifted to rest on their entwined fingers. Noting her gaze, he hesitantly brought his other hand over to turn up her chin and meet her eyes.

Do I trust him? She looked hard into his eyes, trying to read his soul.

How many times have men made promises to me? He has a new land to gain.

And the People? Can we stand against them in the end? His warriors look healthy, strong, eager for war. Can our young men stop them ?

A grim reality blocked her thoughts. What choice do I have? And yes .. .

despite my fears, I trust him. Her heart raced. Fool! "It won't be easy," he warned, seeing her caution. "I think we both know that."

She nodded. "I'll take you--and only a handful of your young men--to the People. Call it a test of your resolve. But Raven Hunter will be there."

"Yes." He nodded soberly. "I've been preparing for that final confrontation."

"It will be ... cataclysmic." She stilled, tensing.

He nodded soberly, meeting her eyes. "You know what's coming, then?" Her teeth ground hollowly as she nodded. "Not completely."

He began to say something and hesitated, seeing her stiffen. "I wish I knew which of them is stronger."

Chapter 63.

Wolf Dreamer resettled his legs, easing the cramp. His mind continued to replay the scenes of joy and release as he'd led the People from the cleft in the ice. Little Moss had danced out of joy--an expression of the One not even the young boy understood. Shouts and cries had carried sharply on the cold air, people hugging each other, laughing, some with tears tracing down wrinkled brown faces long etched by sorrow and hardship.

He'd led them, climbing up out of the valley, the first to see Jumping Hare as he came streaking down the slope, his arms waving wildly, face radiant. So much joy after so much suffering. A spiral, a circle within a circle having no distinction between the levels. All things came around, changing, moving down the spiral of life. Despair's time had pa.s.sed for this cycle. Only challenge remained--until the next curve of the spiral.

And how could anyone forget the shining relief in One Who Cries' face as he ran to his wife that day, stopping, holding her at arm's length as they both looked into each other's eyes with worship. They'd embraced then, violently, holding each other until ribs cracked.

Wolf Dreamer lowered his head, feeling air and life filling his chest.

With a sigh, he stood, plucking his hide from the ground, a lingering remorse over the loss of Heron's shelter nibbled at his peace. Ah, for the darkness, the faint moist odor of the purifying steam. He looked around, seeing Broken Branch dropping boiling stones into a buffalo-gut bag. Steam.

Wolf Dreamer considered, hearing the commotion around the camp.

Distraction, no way to clear his mind. They wanted him to Dream the animals in tomorrow.

Walking to the fire, he bent and picked up a burning chunk of spruce. He couldn't help but feel their eyes on him as he studied the glowing end of the thick branch, bluish smoke twirling in the cold air. Grunting to himself, he turned, walking up the slope toward the trees, blowing on the branch to keep it burning. The People parted before him, conversation evaporating.

In the trees, he snapped more dead branches from the snags and threw them into the fire over his glowing embers. As they crackled to life, he kicked some of the hand-sized cobbles --like Broken Branch's boiling stones--from the snow and piled them in the fire, letting them heat.

He could feel them. On all sides, faces peeked from around rocks, from over drifts, through the trees, as the People came to peer at him. They followed him everywhere, watching, ever curious at what he might be about.

Distraction.

Dreaming was becoming impossible.

"You told me, Heron. But I didn't believe it could ever be so difficult."

He walked along, scooping up snow, cradling it in the hem of the robe he'd taken from Grandfather White Bear's steaming body that day so longago on the ice. Hunching over, he rolled the hot rocks from the fire, using them in the same manner as a mother might warm her child's robes.

The robe over his head, he reached for the snow pile, sprinkling the white crystals over the rocks.

Sizzling explosions of steam rose warm, circling about his head. Perhaps it wasn't Heron's shelter, but it cleared his mind, eased his thoughts with that feeling of Oneness. As the steam dissipated, he sprinkled more snow on the rocks, breathing deeply, feeling the tensions, the distractions, fading. He could carry his geyser anywhere now. He could cleanse his mind--Dream.

Stretching his consciousness, he sensed a dark presence moving somewhere nearby. His heart pounded suddenly. As he'd known for months, the conflict approached, drawing down from the north.

He pulled his white bear robe over his head, letting the steam fill the canopy and caress his face. In the moist darkness, painful images swirled.

Chapter 64.

In the eternal blackness, Raven Hunter stumbled over a waist-high boulder, banging his head as he fell. Pain blasted up his hurt arm, leaving him nauseated and sick, lights whirling through the blackness before his eyes. He lay there, the weight of the White Hide pinning him on his injured arm. Air rasped in and out of his laboring lungs. A new pain stung his head where he'd cracked it on the rock.

"Got to keep going," he choked. "Power's in the Hide. Power's mine. Got to keep going."

With his good hand, he felt out the position of the boulder, dragging the heavy Hide over it, maneuvering with his good arm, straightening and pulling the Hide over his shoulders. He locked his knees to brace his trembling legs. One step at a time, he felt his way along, the ghosts creaking and moaning in the ice overhead. Gravel crunched under his worn long boots, the chill eating through the holes where the leather bunched and chafed against the blistered soles of his feet.

Step-by-step, he continued, feeling the way by keeping to the gravel, bent low to keep from banging his head on the overhanging ice. Around him, the forbidding black stretched.

He rubbed his cheek against the White Hide, feeling the Power it held, letting it soak into his very skin. He'd cut away his pouch, eating it strip by strip for the little strength it held.

Onward he plodded, driven by the future, goaded by the Power that would be his when the People saw the White Hide. They waited for him--and the White Hide--somewhere ahead. Beyond the blackness.

The mountains shaded lavender in the silence of dawn, stars twinkling low on the southern horizon. Before them, the Big Ice loomed--a vast white wall, ghostly in the soft light. Wind Woman whipped snow from the ridge tops, sending them stretching like long fingers into the sky.

Guards hunched over a small fire, clutching their robes as they looked out across the crystalline wastes.

Singing Wolf stood apart, a foot propped on one of the boulders that tumbled down the slope around them. He'd been up most of the night, thinking, worrying--but it was none of his business. Still, he winced as his gaze drifted to Ice Fire's shelter. Nestled in the center of the camp, the hide roof glistened with frost. Every night for the past week, Dancing Fox had gone in to share dinner with the Most Respected Elder and not come out until dawn. Her warriors, especially those from Raven Hunter's old band, bristled, stamping around threateningly, charging treason.

Singing Wolf heaved a tired sigh and contemplatively smoothed the snow from the rock beside him, whispering to himself, "No, she's no traitor."

He'd seen the tender looks Fox and Ice Fire had started to share, the guarded way they touched each other--and he understood their newfound togetherness. The elder reminded them all of Wolf Dreamer. How could Dancing Fox not feel longing for the man? She'd loved the Dreamer with all her heart.

And maybe the fact that Fox and Ice Fire shared robes would strengthen both peoples. Yes, maybe. He gripped a handful of snow and crushed itinto a ball, then tossed it silently into the lavender rays of dawn.

"This is crazy!" Eagle Cries whispered viciously from down the slope.

Singing Wolf turned to see the youth's fist lifted toward the Others'

camp. In the dim rose-amber light of the fire, Eagle Cries' face twisted with anger. "Tomorrow, we take these Others into the hole under the ice?

I can't believe it!"

"I can't either," Crow Foot remarked. His round face glowed boyishly smooth in the dim light. "We lead men who raped our women and killed our brothers into the heart of the People's camp? It's madness."

Singing Wolf ma.s.saged his forehead and tiredly headed for their fire.

They started, surprised, as he appeared out of the darkness. "Don't forget the oaths you swore to uphold the peace."

Crow Foot turned, catlike on his heels. "You've always been weakhearted, Singing Wolf. I remember the day you ran out on Raven Hunter and the rest of us. Oaths didn't matter so much then, eh?"

Singing Wolf's breath fogged around his face. "What Raven Hunter did was wrong for the People. Wolf Dreamer is doing right for us."

"Right for us," Crow Foot mocked. "Is it right that I clutch to my bosom the beast who killed my sister?"

Singing Wolf blinked and lowered his gaze. "I know it's hard, but we all have to--"

"I saw him in Ice Fire's lodge!" Crow Foot shouted, the echo running through the camp and down the valley.