Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) (13 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series)
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I
CE AND SNOW gust by, making it almost impossible for me to see anything … . Then a young man appears, standing on the crest of an ice ridge. He wears a white bear hide over his shoulders, and long black hair whips around his face.
Standing alone on the ice, the young man cries, “I’m not the one! I’m no dreamer.”
“Who is he?” I ask Runs In Light.
“Wolf Dreamer. He succeeded. He—”
“Wolf Dreamer! Is that who he is? He’s one of the Blessed Hero Twins.”
“Yes, he dreamed humans into the land where you live, even
though all he wanted was to be a hunter and to raise a family with the woman he loved.”
“Power wouldn’t let him?”
“He wouldn’t let himself. The survival of Life was more important to him than his own wants. Without his dream, humans would never have found the way to your world.”
I clench my fists. “So Wolf Dreamer was brave enough?”
“Yes, but not until the very end.”
Runs In Light turns to look at me. His young face has taken on a bittersweet expression that melts my heart. Snow blasts by us, whistling, freezing on our eyelashes.
“No one wants to be a dreamer, Twig. But someone must be.”
I force a swallow down my throat. “I’m afraid, but … I’ll try. Can you help me? I’ve only seen twelve summers.”
“So had I,” he says softly. “I had seen twelve summers when Power called.”
“You were a dreamer?”
“Yes. A very long time ago.”
Runs In Light rises to his feet, and the air wavers around him, blurring his body into bizarre, ominous shapes. “It was even harder for me than it is for you, Twig. I was more afraid than you can imagine.”
“How did you get over it?”
“I united the worlds of Animal and Human in myself, and became my Spirit Helper.”
“Became?”
“Some dreamers are strengthened when they are consumed by fire. Other dreamers need water. Some, like us, have to drown
in blood before they can unite worlds inside themselves. Don’t fear it, Twig. That crushing beak will give you wings.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
I stumble backward when Runs In Light’s legs begin to writhe in a hideous dance. As I watch, black fur sprouts from his skin, and he turns into a wolf—a big black wolf. With wistful, human eyes, he peers up at me. “You and Greyhawk must go to Cobia’s cave. Eagle-Man waits for you there.”
The wolf lopes away at full speed, charging through the icy wilderness as though being chased by an invisible monster.
“Runs In Light, wait! How do I get home? I can’t get home!”
In a voice that grows fainter by the instant, he calls, “Go and ask Wolf Dreamer.”
I turn to look at the man standing on the crest of ridge. He’s smiling at me, but he looks sad.
As I climb toward him, he calls, “Hurry, Twig. The Thornback raiders are approaching your village. Very soon, they will find your family. You must hurry. Hurry.”
G
REYHAWK AND SCREECH Owl continued to stare out across the white wasteland of snow toward the burning village in the distance. The smoke had started to coil upward like a black tornado.
Screech Owl said, “You are right, Greyhawk. We must stop them, but—” He stopped and cocked an ear.
A sound rose; it barely carried over the wind: soft, mewing.
Then Greyhawk clearly heard a cough and a wheezed, “Screech Owl?”
“Twig?”
Screech Owl dashed beneath the leather curtain, and Greyhawk ducked into the cave behind him.
Twig was lying on her side, her body dripping wet. Strange bits of moss clung to her sleeves. She coughed again, desperately, and tried to raise herself on her elbows but weakly fell back against the fox hides.
Greyhawk cried, “Twig! Are you all right?”
Screech Owl ran for her, scooped her up in his arms, and frantically kissed her soaked face. “Thank Earthmaker, I was so afraid.”
Yipper trotted over to sniff Twig’s head, then licked her arm affectionately. She didn’t seem to feel it. She kept coughing.
Greyhawk didn’t know what to do. He just stood rigidly, clutching his atlatl, waiting to hear her speak. She looked different somehow, her eyes brighter, and not quite human.
Twig fell into a violent coughing fit. A trickle of water ran from her mouth. She fought to catch her breath and started choking. Screech Owl laid her facedown on the floor and firmly pressed against her back. More water gushed from her lungs, forming a small, crystalline pool on the hides. He pressed again and again, until she seemed to be breathing easily; then he stretched out on the floor beside her to study her face. She smiled weakly. Screech Owl lifted a hand and stroked her sopping hair. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Greyhawk knelt beside her. His throat had closed up, making it hard to breathe. “I thought you were dead,” he said. “I missed you badly.”
Her pretty face, with its full lips and straight nose, had gone as white as the snow. But her eyes gazed at him steadily. “I fell into the river.”
“The river that runs in front of the Land of the Dead? How did you get out?”
“I was … was drowning. I saw something in the waves. It came and slithered inside me.”
“Snake?” Greyhawk hissed in surprise.
She nodded. “Water Snake. I—I got Water Snake’s soul. Then … I could swim to shore.”
Screech Owl said, “That’s good, Twig. You wanted Water Snake’s soul. How did—”
“Runs In Light came … came to …” She started coughing again.
“Wait, Twig,” Screech Owl said gently, seeing how hard it was for her to talk. “You need to rest and eat. We’ll talk about these things when you’re stronger.”
Twig nodded, and her hand crept spiderlike across the floor until she could twine her fingers in Screech Owl’s buckskin shirt. “I tried very hard … to come back to you. I love you, Screech Owl. You, too … Greyhawk.”
Screech Owl stroked her hair. “We love you, too, Twig. You sleep now. When you wake up, we’ll eat and talk.”
W
IND.
And more wind, howling through the cold moonlight.
Twig watched Screech Owl crouch before the rabbit that was skewered on a long stick and propped near the flames. He turned the stick so the rabbit would cook on the other side, and glanced at Twig. She sat across the fire pit from him. Screech Owl had given her one of his old shirts to wear. It was much too big for her, but it was dry and warm. It was painted green with red spirals and black dancing bears. Screech Owl had explained that it had
come from his ritual attire and had been specially blessed by Kestrel Above.
“Twig?” Greyhawk said. “Can you talk now?”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Her gaze was fixed on the snowflakes that blew past the cave entrance. They were whispering to each other, but she couldn’t understand their words.
Screech Owl dipped a horn spoon into the pot of tea, stirring it for the twentieth time.
Greyhawk walked over and knelt beside Screech Owl to whisper, “Why isn’t she talking?”
Screech Owl said, “That happens to dreamers when they get new souls. They become disoriented for a time, seeing an old world through strange new eyes. I’ve known dreamers who went mad from fear. And others who left their homes and families and just ran away into the forest never to be seen again.”
“Did that happen to you?”
“Me? No, of course not. I was delighted by the bizarre thoughts that came to me. After I got Pack Rat’s soul, I had the urge to poke my nose into dark crevices looking for shiny objects. I didn’t realize how dangerous it was. One night I poked my head into a hole in the ground where Weasel lived and Weasel sank his teeth into my nose. See this scar?” Screech Owl pointed to the white scar on his nose.
Greyhawk scowled.
Twig smiled and studied Screech Owl as he duckwalked to the rear of the cave to sift through the basket
of dried blossoms. The delicate, flowery scent swirled up when he grasped a handful. He brought them back and stirred the blossoms into the boiling blend of roots.
“I saw Wolf Dreamer,” Twig said.
“You
saw
the Blessed Hero Twin?” Greyhawk asked in awe.
“Yes, in the Land of the Long Dark. Have you ever seen him, Screech Owl?”
“No.” Screech Owl cocked his head. “But each dreamer meets different Spirit Helpers in the skyworld.”
Twig clasped her hands in her lap. “After Runs In Light left me, I didn’t know how to get home, so I walked down to Wolf Dreamer. We talked. He told me things … .”
She understood why a new dreamer might go mad. The things she’d seen were terrifying and magical. The colors were almost too dazzling to look at, and the faces of the Spirits shone as though coated with liquid moonlight.
Greyhawk said, “What did he tell you, Twig?”
She blinked at the swaying door curtain. She didn’t know if she should answer. Besides, a silence lived in her heart now—a deep, bright silence that was perfectly calm. She longed to swim in it forever.
Screech Owl filled three wooden cups with tea, then slid the rabbit into a bowl and tore off the legs. He handed a teacup and a bowl with a leg to Greyhawk, then carried Twig’s teacup and bowl over and set them by her knees. She barely saw him.
Screech Owl picked up his own dinner and gently
said, “First, tell us about the journey, Twig. Did Eagle-Man come up through the tunnel in the spruce branch?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “He brought the Spirit buffalo. They put their heads through the nooses you made. Then … then we started up … flying into the dark storm.”
Steam rose around Screech Owl’s face as he sipped his tea. “Eat while you talk, Twig. You must be starving.”
She picked up her rabbit leg and chewed it thoughtfully while her gaze touched each sacred symbol painted on the walls. The spirals and purple starbursts glittered in the firelight.
“The buffalo had a hard time pulling the litter through the river, Screech Owl.”
“They always do. It’s so deep and wide.”
“And fast. It rushed so fast.”
“So you fell in and had to turn back?”
She finished chewing and swallowed. At the memory, fear, like a living thing, coiled in her belly. “Yes.”
Screech Owl sat forward and gently touched her shoulder. “That’s all right, Twig. You did well.”
“But I didn’t make it across to the Land of the Dead. I’m sorry.”
In a hushed voice, Screech Owl said, “Don’t be. Very few Spirit dreamers ever reach the Land of the Dead. Especially not on their first try.”
Greyhawk looked at Screech Owl. “How long did it take you to make it across the river?”
The old man cocked his head. “I finally made it on my fifteenth try. I’d seen twenty-two summers.”
Twig continued, “But I could see things on the other side: old fire pits, stumps with ax marks. And the trees, the trees, Screech Owl! They were so tall their tops disappeared into the clouds. That’s when Runs In Light led me to the Long Dark. And … and I met Wolf Dreamer.”
Twig gobbled a chunk of meat, barely chewing it; then she lowered her eyes, and tears glistened on her lashes. “The Thornback raiders are coming, Screech Owl. Very soon.”
“I knew it!” Greyhawk shouted. “We have to go home!”
Screech Owl’s eyes narrowed, as though in pain. “Did Wolf Dreamer tell you how to stop them?”
Twig didn’t answer. She watched Screech Owl with the bright, unblinking eyes of Water Snake.
It must have scared Greyhawk. He walked across the cave to the entrance and pulled the curtain aside to stare out at the dark night, as though afraid he’d find Thornback raiders camped right outside. The faint scents of mud and soaked rocks blew in on Wind Woman’s breath.
“Our families are in danger,” Greyhawk said. “We have to get home. I’m leaving tomorrow at dawn. I don’t care how deep the snow is.”
Twig blinked. Only a few days ago, he’d been afraid of everything—birds, bullies, and fights. But now, he sounded like a warrior.
Screech Owl responded, “I’ll take you. I don’t want you going alone. If the raiders are out there, I—”
“Screech Owl?” Twig set her cup down and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her heart felt luminous. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were my father?”
Greyhawk’s gaze shot to Screech Owl. “You …
you
are Twig’s father?”
Screech Owl’s hand stopped midway in bringing his teacup to his mouth. He seemed to be fighting to swallow past the knot in his throat. Tea sloshed onto the floor when he set his cup down. “Twig … I … your mother … she—she left me. She told me she never wanted to see me again after the dreams I had made her see. She hated me. She thought it would be better if people believed that Shouts-At-Night was your father. She said it would make things easier for you. I wanted to tell you so many times.”
“But you’re my father. Our people trace descent through the men. You could have made a claim on me.”
“Yes,” he said gently, “but I loved your mother. I didn’t want to hurt her. And I—I thought you would be better off with her than me. I tried to see you every time I went to Buffalobeard Village. I’ve always loved you.”
Twig gave Screech Owl an affectionate smile, and emotion seemed to swell at the back of his throat. He couldn’t speak. He just tilted his head awkwardly, and Twig jumped up and hugged him.
“I’m glad you’re my father, Screech Owl. There’s nobody else I’d want for a father.”
Greyhawk leaned against the cave wall, as though he was a little faint. “I feel like someone just kicked me in the
belly. Twig, are you sure? Who told you Screech Owl was your father?”
As the flames died down in the fire pit, smoke curled upward in billowing clouds where it crept along the ceiling until it was sucked out through the crack.
Twig sat down again. “When I was drowning, I called out for my father, and I saw Screech Owl’s face. Then, Wolf Dreamer told me that’s where I get my ability to dream—from Screech Owl.” She smiled at him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”
Screech Owl said, “What else did he tell you, my daughter?”
Twig’s soul seemed to be floating, moving with the dance of the firelight. She took a deep breath. “Screech Owl, Greyhawk, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“I promise,” Greyhawk said.
“As do I. What did he say?”
Twig exhaled hard. “We have to go find Cobia. Greyhawk and me. We have to do it together.”
Greyhawk’s knees went weak. “Me? Why do I have to go? I’m no dreamer!”
Twig whispered, “No, you’re a warrior.”
Screech Owl seemed to stop breathing. He stared hard at Greyhawk. “Yes, and you’re about to be tested.”
“Tested? What does that mean?” Greyhawk said.
“It means that Twig’s Spirit Helper has called you. And having a Spirit Helper call you is a little like meeting Grandfather Grizzly unexpectedly in the dark forest. You
never know whether he’ll lead you out of the darkness to the trail home—or force you to run for your life.”
Greyhawk started shaking his head and backing away, and Twig said, “Greyhawk, our families are in trouble. The Thornback raiders are headed for our village. My Spirit Helpers told me the only way we can really save our people is by finding Cobia.”
He nervously licked his lips. “I’m ready to fight raiders, Twig, but Cobia …”
“Fighting the raiders won’t be enough,” Twig said softly. “There’s something much worse coming. That’s what we have to stop.”
“The ball of light in your dream?”
“I think so. I—I don’t understand what all of it means, Greyhawk. I just know we have to find Cobia.”
Greyhawk gripped his atlatl and squared his shoulders. Yipper leaped to his feet as though he knew that meant they would be going soon. Greyhawk took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he said, “All right, Twig. If it means we can save our people, I’ll go.”
Twig nodded, and started to say something, but she heard a whisper. Her gaze went to the colorful symbols painted on the walls, and she frowned, listening to them talking to each other. They had sweet, high voices. After ten heartbeats, she said, “We’ll leave at dawn.”

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