Free People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear Page B

Silvertip saw him coming, he called, “Grandfather!” and ran to meet him. “It’s about to start. We have to go in.”
    Turning back to Mossy, Lookingbill said, “If you can’t find anyone else, I’ll Sing.”
    “Thank you, Father.” She kissed his cheek. “It will be worth it just to give Loon Spot a reason to be dead again.”
    The Council cavern was a large, irregular chamber that ran back into the rocks. Silvertip’s mouth dropped open. A huge fire had been built of logs in the center of the space. It cast flickering shadows over the rockshelter’s high ceiling and the happy faces of the people. Hides had been spread in front of the torch-holding warriors. People sat expectantly; their hushed conversations created a pleasant hum.
    Lookingbill guided Silvertip to a woolly buffalo hide in the back. “Can you see?”
    The boy nodded. “Yes, this is a good place.”
    “Wonderful. I want you to remember this day. It has been ten tens times ten summers since Wolf Dreamer fought Grandfather White Bear and found the dark hole in the ice that led to this world. It is a very special day.”
    Silvertip nodded, and Lookingbill wrapped an arm lovingly over the boy’s shoulders and hugged him.
    A hush fell as Mossy took her place near the central fire. She had removed her cape and wore a long black-painted dress adorned with mica nuggets; she looked regal. After clearing her throat several times to gain silence, she extended a hand to the worshipers.
    “Lame Bull People, we come together this equinox night to celebrate the freeing of our Ancestors from the terrible Land of the Long Dark.”
    The crowd responded, “May Wolf Dreamer be blessed forever more.”
    “We come to praise the name of Grandfather White Bear, who gave his life to keep Wolf Dreamer alive so that he could find the hole in the ice.”
    “Let the name of Grandfather White Bear be blessed,” the people responded.
    Mossy raised a fist, and it cast a huge dark shadow against the boulders behind her. “We come to praise the spirit of Wolf, who brought a grand Dream to a boy named Runs-in-Light, a boy who would become the Wolf Dreamer. Old Man Above sent Wolf Dreamer to teach us the way to the One. It is through the One that we conquer his wicked brother, Raven Hunter. It is through the One that we find peace and harmony.”
    People called, “Let the name of Wolf be blessed forever more.”
    A shiver played along Lookingbill’s spine—one spurred by memories of ancient stories and a longing that this feeling of community might last forever. He stole glances at the people around him. Their faces gleamed with faith and reverence, particularly Silvertip’s face.
    “He who seeks light in the dark places, may he seek light for us and for all of the Lame Bull People.”
    Mossy walked straight across the cavern and out the front entrance, to prepare for the telling of the great story. The young Storyteller-in-the-making, Ringing Shield, a youth of six and ten summers, took her place. He began a recitation of all the sacred names of Wolf Dreamer and Raven Hunter.
    At the mention of Raven Hunter’s name, Silvertip’s breathing quickened. Lookingbill patted him gently on the back. Leaning down, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
    “Raven Hunter is evil.”
    “It is said that he tried to deceive and destroy our people.”
    Silvertip stared into Lookingbill’s eyes. “He isn’t gone, Grandfather. He’s come back.”
    “Our prophecies tell us that if that ever happens the Last Mammoth will trumpet Raven Hunter’s arrival, and Wolf Dreamer will send a new Dreamer to save us.”
    “But what if the new Dreamer—whoever he is—fails? Would Raven Hunter lead the Nightland People against us and kill us all?”
    The boy’s words wrung a pang from his heart. “Don’t think such things, Silvertip. Wolf Dreamer would not punish us so.”
    Silvertip dropped his gaze. In a panicked whisper, he said, “I had a Dream last night, Grandfather. In it Raven