People of the Fire (56 page)

 
          
 
She forced herself to smile, jerking her chin
in a nod. She stepped close to hug him tightly, the power in her arms
practically driving the breath from his lungs. "I love you, Dancer. Don't
leave me."

 
          
 
The greatest pain in his life came from the fact
he could never tell her, “I won’t. "

 
          
 
Tanager ran, lungs heaving as she fled through
the trees. The enemy had come out of nowhere. One minute she lay on her
stomach, chin propped on her elbows as she watched Cricket nursing her new
baby. The next, Short Buffalo warriors had charged out of the timber,
screaming, casting darts here and there as the camp erupted into bedlam. She'd
jumped up, grabbing her
atlatl
, trying to nock a dart
as Cricket screamed.

 
          
 
A tall man had grabbed her friend by the hair
from behind, bending Cricket's neck back. Tanager's reaction had been
instinctive. She'd clubbed the man with her
atlatl
,
smashing his face. As he staggered back, she'd driven a dart into his belly.
She'd taken Cricket's hand and run in panic, the warrior's shrieks in her ears.

 
          
 
Now, so far from camp, Tanager ducked to the
side, diving under a tall fir. Cricket, gasping and moaning—Snaps Horn's tiny
son in her arms—staggered after.

 
          
 
Seeking to still the burning in her lungs,
Tanager crept to look back the way they'd come. Nothing moved.

 
          
 
Cricket had sunk gratefully to her knees, her
infant wailing softly. Eyes closed in misery, she gasped for breath, trickles
of sweat running down her flushed face. "What . . . now?"

 
          
 
Tanager's starved lungs struggled for air.
"I don't know. Can't go back."

 
          
 
"But . . . where?"

 
          
 
"I know. Elk Charm's . . . camp. You know
... the way?" Tanager managed between pants.

 
          
 
"Down on the . . . west side. Where the .
. . big canyon . . . cuts down to . . . the basin?"

 
          
 
"Yes. Go there. Take any others . . . you
find along . . . the way . . . and go there."

 
          
 
"What about you?"

 
          
 
Tanager grinned, feeling the uncertainty in
her gut. Her breath was coming back. "Look, you're the one with a child.
You've got Snaps Horn for a husband. Me, I'm still free. For all the good it's
done, a man's seed might be cast on bare rock as well as inside me."

 
          
 
"Tanager, please. Don't do that to
yourself. You're the most beautiful woman in the Red Hand. You can have any man
you want for a—"

 
          
 
"
Shhh
! What's
the matter with you? The camp's just been raided and you want to talk about me?
Go! Quickly! Make your way to the high trail and cross to the valley west of
here. From there all you need to do is follow the streams down."

 
          
 
“What about you?"

 
          
 
Tanager winked at her friend. “I’m sneaking
back. Someone has to find out what's happened. My hunting weapons are back
there. Besides, Snaps Horn is out with the rest of the men. They need to know
where you're going. I'll have to tell people to run to Rattling Hooves and Elk
Charm. How else will they know? How will Snaps Horn know?"

 
          
 
Having no other choice, Cricket nodded. “All
right. I'll take the baby to Elk Charm's. But ..." She reached out,
placing a hand on Tanager's arm.

 
          
 
“But what?"

 
          
 
“Be careful."

 
          
 
“You know me. Not even smoke moves as quietly
as Tanager in the timber."

 
          
 
Cricket shook her head. “I know you're a good
hunter. I know you'd rather be out roaming around than in a tent. But, Tanager,
be careful. I just have a terrible feeling, that's all."

 
          
 
Tanager grinned at her. "Remember, don't
stop until you get to Elk Charm's. She'll take care of you."

 
          
 
And she forced herself to her feet, feeling a
tingle of excitement as she started back toward the camp, wondering who might
have been killed and who might have survived.

 
          
 
Why did she always have to be different? No
wonder none of the men she'd coupled with could plant a child in her. She moved
around too much for the seed to catch.

 
          
 
She glanced down at the whipcord thinness of
her body. Not an ounce of fat padded her firmly muscled flesh. No, she might
not have a man's strength, but she had that special balance and speed that gave
her a slight advantage. No man among the Red Hand could cast a dart as
accurately as she. She had the eye for it, and the talent for the hunt seemed
to be inbred—a Power all her own.

 
          
 
Suddenly they were around her again. She
couldn't believe they had come so far so fast. She might have been moving like
the smoke she bragged about; nevertheless four men leapt out of the trees. She
spun like a deer and hesitated for a moment since the only avenue of escape led
back to Cricket.

           
 
She easily ducked an arm and bolted to the
side—too late. Thick arms grabbed her around the middle in a grip that crushed
her to the ground.

 
          
 
She struggled, almost breaking free before
another grabbed her arm. She twisted, looking up into an unfamiliar enemy face.
The man grinned at her, a burning light in his eyes.

 
          
 
Makes Fun bent over her grinding stone,
enjoying the feel of the
mano
clutched in her hand.
The muscles of her forearms tensed and rippled with each stroke. The
grate-clack, grate-clack of
mano
and
metate
sounded a hollow cadence through the shelter as she
milled the last of last year's pine nuts into a fine paste. When she found a
nut that had dried, she'd use the pecked edge of the
mano
to smack it flat for grinding.

 
          
 
With deft hands, she scooped up the mush and
placed it in a grass basket, reaching for the final handful of unprocessed
nuts. With a staccato of raps, she used the
mano
butt
to mash them down before beginning the rhythmic grinding again.

 
          
 
"Hard to believe how much things have
changed," Black Crow offered, scratching at his protruding belly. He
squinted at the pile of carefully cut rawhide strips separated into three coils
before him. Each contributed to the long section of rope he braided for a new
elk snare.

 
          
 
Makes Fun nodded, a pinched look to her brow
as she concentrated on the grinding. "If I would have had to guess, I'd
never have thought the
Anit'ah
would come seeking you
to fight against the People—and never twice in a row."

 
          
 
"Things have changed." He hesitated,
head tilted back, accenting the prominent spike of his Adam's apple. He scanned
the afternoon sky as he thought. "You know, it was always Little Dancer at
the center of it—kind of like the trouble in a dog pack can be narrowed down to
one puppy. Next time, maybe I'll pick my friends better."

 
          
 
She laughed sarcastically. "Oh?"

 
          
 
He shot her a curious glance. "You like
what's happened to us? All this running, living in holes in the rock like
pack-rats? And there are only buffalo to kill every once in a while up
here."

 
          
 
"Fool," she told him softly, a warm
light in her eyes.

           
 
"Look around you. This place is
beautiful. Unlike the plains where spring is green and the rest of the year is
brown, there are colors here, and the land changes with each moment as the sun
moves.

 
          
 
“I’ve never been as warm in a hide shelter as
I am in the rocks. Maybe brother packrat is smarter than you think, huh? And
when was the last time we were hungry?"

 
          
 
"But we eat seeds and roots and things
like that!"

 
          
 
"Uh-huh, and elk and mountain sheep and
deer and jack-rabbit and bear and . . .yes, even a buffalo on occasion. You
remember, Black Crow. You think real hard and you remember just how much
buffalo we ate those last years with the People." She waggled her
mano
at him.

 
          
 
He lifted a sheepish shoulder. "Well,
maybe we were a little hungry."

 
          
 
"And besides, what if we had stayed, and
Heavy Beaver hadn't Cursed us all dead? What then? You'd be the one going up
into the mountains to fight the deadly
Anit'ah
. Think
of that. Now, here we are on the other side of the mountains. And we're safe
for a while." She paused, a pensive look in her eyes as she stared off to
the west where the sun sank slowly. The canyon hid the view, but she knew what
lay there.

 
          
 
"And besides, husband, if things change
again, we'll cross the basin out there. Maybe find a place to live in that next
bunch of mountains."

 
          
 
"And if there's a war there?"

 
          
 
"We'll keep moving until we find a place
where there isn't war. What do we need? Someplace out of the rain and snow?
Animals and plants to eat and make clothing out of? Can you think of anything
else?"

 
          
 
"People to talk to."

 
          
 
She winked at him. "You're tired of
Hungry Bull and Three Toes and Meadowlark and—"

 
          
 
"No, I mean people to talk to." He
scowled at his braiding where it lay in his hands. "I miss the old
stories, seeing different faces, hearing the jokes from someone new. I miss the
coming of the Traders, and hearing what they've seen. We're cut off here.
That's all."

 
          
 
She nodded, callused hands going still as she
thought back to those other days. "Yes, I miss that, too." For a
moment they sat in silence, until Makes Fun shook her head violently. "But
no matter, I wouldn't trade anything for Sage Root's fate."

 
          
 
She reached over and placed a white-powdered
hand on his knee. "You know, husband, sometimes the world just changes.
Maybe we could have done something about it if we'd known how far Heavy Beaver
would take things. But we didn't, and even when I finally started to wonder,
and Choke-cherry tried to tell me, I still didn't believe it. But that's past,
the buffalo's out of the trap."

 
          
 
"Out of the trap and running!" He
laid a hand tenderly over hers. "And we have strong healthy children who
don't scream for war. So the world changed? We got the best of it, didn't
we?"

 
          
 
"And that only leaves the
Anit'ah
."

 
          
 
He nodded, gazing toward where
Ramshorn
sat in the sun with Rattling Hooves, talking.
"We can't go fight the People. No matter what Heavy Beaver's made them do.
They're our relatives."