People of the Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

flap hadn't
fallen back in place so he could see inside.
                   "It's not evil. It's the soul of—"
Two Smokes stopped lamely.
                   "The Anit'ah ?"
Heavy Beaver probed, looming over the berdache .
                   "The Power works for all people, Spirit Man. You, of all men, should know that .... Wait! What are you doing?"
                   Heavy Beaver ripped the Bundle from Two
Smokes' grasp, stepping back to avoid clawing fingers. He ducked out as Two
Smokes scrambled behind. With a vile curse, he threw the Bundle into the night.
In the half-light of the fire, Little Dancer caught the horror on Two Smokes'
stricken face. In that moment, he felt the berdache's soul cry. Two Smokes' face masked a mind-rending terror as he reached a futile
hand toward the night.
                   A soft plop sounded in the beaten grass beyond
the camp. At that moment, Little Dancer's soul twisted, a wretched sickness
welling in his gut. He vomited before he could fight the urge.
                   As if from a distance, he heard Two Smokes'
horrified shout.
                   Voices of people awakened by Heavy Beaver's
curse called back and forth, unsure of themselves. Some of the younger men
rushed out of their lodges, searching the darkness for Anit'ah ,
seeking the cause of the disturbance. The babble rose on the night, men and
women grabbing robes before hurrying out.
                   Lifting his head, Little Dancer wiped at his
mouth, terror eating at his insides. Two Smokes stared up where he'd stopped on
all fours, disbelief in his eyes. People gaped, seeing Heavy Beaver's bulk
silhouetted in the birthing lodge's fire.
                   "The infant must be destroyed."
Heavy Beaver turned, looking into the lodge. "Do you hear, Dancing Doe?
This is your doing ... all of you. The People are already polluted by foulness.
They are polluted by women turning men's medicine against them. This . . . this
infant is polluted by Anit'ah witchcraft and whatever
vile spirit of the night lurked outside the lodge when it was born. I condemn
all of you as unclean!"
                   "No!" Dancing Doe cried from inside.
"Not my child. Not my baby!"
                   "Kill it!" Heavy Beaver roared.
"It's your pollution."
                   Sage Root ducked through the lodge entrance,
standing up before him. "I wonder just where the pollution lies? I don't
feel polluted at all . . . except in your presence!"
                   "Don't!" Chokecherry grabbed Sage
Root's arm, pulling her back. "He's a Spirit Dreamer. Apologize."
                   Little Dancer saw his mother start, anger
draining from her tensed body. "I . . . forgive me."
                   Heavy Beaver's face worked, a curious mix of
enjoyment and vindication. "The child must be destroyed." At that he
turned, lifting a foot and kicking Two Smokes down on his face in the dirt
before striding off into the night.
                   A hushed mumble of voices rose from the
spectators.
                   Stunned, Little Dancer shivered and blinked at
the scene. Two Smokes raised his head, firelight tracing the tears streaking his
face.
                   The wind had stopped, the air going heavy and
stifling. In the sudden silence, Dancing Doe's baby wailed.
                   In White Calf's rock shelter high in the Buffalo Mountains , the Dream settled like morning dew lying
lightly on her sleep. Like frost patterns, the Dream wove into her mind,
tightening its hold on her soul. Beyond, the stars continued the circle of the
sky, oblivious to the silent shelter in the mountainside so far below. Coyotes
yipped and chorused as they harried the carcass of a freshly killed elk calf.
Unnoticed, owls drifted over the meadow on silent wings while mice rustled the
umbel-richening grasses for growing