Free Cry of the Wind by Sue Harrison

come and asked such a thing, she would not mind….
    Aqamdax looked past Star to her husband, felt the assurance of his presence. What could happen to a child in such a short distance? How could she be so foolish as to fear her husband’s sister?
    “Let me wrap the baby so the wind will not take his breath,” she told Star, then went back into the birth lodge.
    He woke as Aqamdax laced him into his cradleboard, but he did not cry. She looked into his face. For a moment he seemed to study her, and Aqamdax felt how close they were, their souls nearly one. Then she took him outside and gave him to Star.
    She watched as Star walked slowly to Night Man, and Aqamdax closed her eyes in relief when she saw Night Man gather the cradleboard into his strong right arm. To her surprise, they turned from her and began to walk into the village. But what did she know about River People customs? Perhaps they were going to show the baby to others.
    She wished the people of this village followed the honored ways of her own village. There, when the mother’s time of isolation was ended, she carried the baby to her husband’s ulax. Then all the village women came, each bringing a gift, and while everyone sat together in a circle, each took a turn holding the baby, whispering blessings—all while the mother and grandmother watched.
    “Bring him back to me soon!” Aqamdax called. “He will be hungry.”
    Star turned and raised one hand to her, then they were gone, hidden by the lodges and lean-tos of the Cousin River Village.

Chapter Eight
    THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE
    Fox Barking stood at the hearth fires and raised his hands to the sky. He praised the river for the abundance of fish, reminding the people that only the summer before, few salmon had come to them. He praised the caribou who awaited their hunters, and he spoke of the Near River warriors, those who still lived among them and those who had been killed in the fighting.
    The few Near River families who had spent the summer at fish camps had returned. Soon the first bands would set out from the village to hunt fall caribou.
    With caches full of dried and smoked fish, it was a good time to rejoice in full bellies and strong arms, to feast on salmon and summer berries and to dream of the promise of caribou. And why not also tell the people he had chosen a new name, one that was more fitting for the man who led them?
    From this day, he would be Anaay. What name could be better? Anaay—that which moves. His mind was always moving, planning what would be best for the village. And who did not know that the River people also gave that name to the caribou herd as it traveled, spring and fall? With a name like Anaay there would be no end to his powers.
    The caribou would recognize him as their own, would sing their journeys through his bones, and so he would always know where his people should hunt, no matter which paths the herds chose.
    Then who could deny that he deserved his place as leader of the elders? After all, he was still a good hunter, and he had a new young wife to warm his bed at night. Who could forget his first wife’s skills with needle and awl? Each of his women had a good lodge. His caches were full. Even Chakliux, with all his stories, and Sok, with his thick arms and strong spear, could not compare to Anaay.
    K’os watched from the edge of the crowd as Fox Barking spoke. With each word he puffed out his chest, but his arms and legs were spindly, and there was no way he could increase their size simply by filling himself with air. His belly had grown fat since she came to the village; even the splendor of his caribou hide parka trimmed with beaver and marten fur, even the birdbone beads that adorned his knee-high summer moccasins, could not hide his true shape.
    She listened to him praise the Near River People, their strength, their cunning, and with each word she ground her teeth. She longed to scream out her hatred, but why give warning of her intent? Fox Barking would