People of the Fire by W. Michael Gear Read Free Book Online Page A

I don't want trouble."
                   "I'll stand by you. Give you what's left
of my dried meat," Sage Root promised, knowing full well that Long Runner
had been killed by Anit'ah . "Listen, we can't
keep killing the girl children." Sage Root placed a hand on Dancing Doe's
shoulder. "Trust me. How would you feel if you killed your baby and Hungry
Bull, or someone from one of the other parties, came trotting in saying they'd
surrounded a herd, killed enough for all?"
                   Dancing Doe bit her lip, haunted eyes still
fastened on Heavy Beaver, his presence like a miasma. "And then what? How
long until the next kill? No. It's all hazy, but I remember him saying I had
to. It's for all the People. This one" — she indicated the
infant—"doesn't have a soul yet. It isn't named. It's only an animal
                   Sage Root closed her eyes, hearing the
certainty in Dancing Doe's voice. "It's your ..." last link to Long
Runner. But she couldn't say that, couldn't force herself to add to Dancing
Doe's misery.
                  Frantic, Dancing Doe's eyes darted.
"You've done enough. You . . . and your berdache !"
                   At the sting in her voice, Sage Root's
resistance crumbled. "We were just—"
                   "Please. Let me pass, Sage Root. The
quicker this is done, the easier it will be."
                   Standing aside, she watched woodenly as
Dancing Doe walked up the trail to the hilltop, a lonely dejected figure. Sage
Root flinched as Dancing Doe raised the child overhead and slammed it down on
the deflated river cobbles. The wind carried the sound of impact away.
                   Heavy Beaver, expressionless, turned and
entered his lodge. People stared empty-eyed at the bowed figure on the ridge
top.
                   "What have we become?" Sage Root
whispered under her breath.
                   "Hungry." Chokecherry appeared
mysteriously at her elbow. "So, she did it?"
                   "She didn't want to face Heavy
Beaver."
                   Chokecherry nodded, eyes narrowing. "He's
killing his own people, and no one knows any better. It's the times, the lack
of rain. Our people are falling apart faster than our worn-out lodges."
She spat in acid emphasis. "You heard him last night. Then he got her
again just after sunrise. He made it sound as if every misfortune the People
have suffered was her fault. Told her if she hadn't gotten pregnant, maybe Long
Runner wouldn't have gone to hunt in Anit'ah lands.
Asked her whose meat she expected to get to feed her baby. 'Which mouth will
you rob?' Those were his words."
                   Sage Root ground her teeth, tears of
frustration and anger forcing past her hot eyes. "Horn Core never said
things like that."
                   Chokecherry nodded curtly, staring up at the
sagging figure standing on the ridge top. "Keep that in mind, girl. The
People are dying off one by one. Heavy Beaver has decreed that infant girls
aren't necessary for the survival of the band. He blames the drought and the
lack of game on us. Look around. See any luster in the People's eyes these
days? Like smoke from an old fire, we're fading away."
                   Chokecherry pushed past, smacking her lips as
she hobbled toward her weathered, smoke-stained lodge.
                   Sage Root took one last look toward the place
where Dancing Doe stood hunched on the ridge. Even from here, she could see her
shoulders rising and falling in grief. As she turned to leave, her eyes locked
with Heavy Beaver's where he sat in the shadowed depths of his lodge. The
Spirit Dreamer's eyes gleamed in promise.
                   "Like smoke from an old fire," she
repeated numbly under her breath.
                   Little Dancer watched as Heavy Beaver walked
out of camp. The man strolled lazily away from the