Free People of the Fire by W. Michael Gear Page B

lifted a shoulder.
                   "No, I've heard nothing of a woman from
the Red Hand. Me, I've been up and down. I like going along the mountains clear
south to the wet lands. I go south for a year. Then I go north for a year to
spend time with the White Crane and see my relatives. After the winter, the
voice calls and I go south. In the four trips I've made, I never heard of this
woman. That still leaves a lot of places to look, east and west and
north."
                   "She had something that belonged to the
Red Hand."
                   "The Wolf Bundle."
                   Blood Bear's heart skipped. "Then you
know."
                   "I know. I know something else, too. You
may not have had to go so far in your searches. Last spring I camped with a
Short Buffalo People band where Moon River and Sand River join into one. I heard jokes about a berdache who eats grass. That was last spring, so I don't
know how far to trust the strength of those stories. You know, information,
like sinew, gets old and cracks and falls apart with age."
                   Blood Bear frowned into the distance.
"Two Smokes used to collect grasses. He'd chew them sometimes, but mostly
he put them in his pack."
                   "This could be him. The berdache they laughed about picked grasses. They said he
had a sacred bundle with him. The other thing I remember is that he limped. Buffalo ran over his leg or something."
                   "Remember the band he was with?"
Blood Bear's heart seemed to boom like a pot drum at Blessing. He stru to keep himself still, fighting the urge to fidget and
rock on his heels.
                   "Heavy Beaver's. They normally range on Moon River . Raid the Red Hand every so often. But then
I guess you raid back."
                   "We haven't raided much in the last few
years. The spirit of the . . . Well, we just haven't raided." But if this berdache was Two Smokes, that would change.
                   "You know, that's why the Red Hand and
the White Crane split so long ago. It was a fight over the Wolf Bundle. I don't
know all about it, but it's old. Very old. We still have legends about
it."
                   Blood Bear stood. "Heavy Beaver's band.
They camp on Moon River ."
                   He helped Three Rattles with his pack, handing
the man his Trader's staff. "I don't have anything to trade now. But maybe
someday I will."
                   Three Rattles' face broke into an enigmatic
smile. "Good luck, Blood Bear. I hope to trade with you someday. I'll want
something back for my fish."
                   Blood Bear lowered an eyebrow, thoughts on the
crippled berdache and Moon River . "You'll have it." With a wave,
Three Rattles was off.
                   For long moments Blood Bear watched the Trader
and his dogs heading north. He checked his bearings; the High Mountains lay directly east. Moon River didn't lie all that far to the north. All
he had to do was reach the river and find the Short Buffalo People camp of this
Heavy Beaver.
                   It wouldn't take him long. Not now.
                   The Wolf Bundle floated in the boy's Dream.
Perhaps he was the one.
                   From the shimmering of the Spirals, Wolf
Dreamer's voice warned, ' 'Be careful. Too much of a taste of Power at so young
an age, and he could go the way of Heavy Beaver. He is only a child. ''
                   The Wolf Bundle pulled back, disengaging. The
Wolf Dreamer had been right. It must wait, abide by the great Spiral of the
universe. Time remained meaningless. Now existed, as it always had . . . and
always would.
                   But another ' 'now'' would come . . . if the
child proved strong enough.
     

Chapter
4
     
                 Kowwww !
The cry lingered on the still