Spiritwalkers

Six: Hunter

Nascha couldn't sleep.

It had been like this for more days than she could count on her hands now, as summer cooled towards fall and she and the other new spiritwalkers began their training in earnest. She pushed herself during the day, pushed her aching muscles into feats of endurance she would have never imagined herself capable of, running for half a day, fighting the other half. Her joints hurt, her bones hurt, her head and heart hurt.

And still, though every night she hoped for release from wakefulness, it did not come until late. Sometimes, sheer exhaustion would overwhelm her in the evenings as they sat around a communal fire. But more often she would be awake until the long still of the night. She would go for walks, slipping into spiritworld and walking around the camp, tracking, ceaselessly vigilant.

"You look tired," Hania had said to her that evening, at the fire. "Are you doing all right?"

"I'm just sad about my family still, and not sleeping well," she'd told him.

"If you need something to help you sleep, let me know," he said. She had promised she would, but even though her knees were wobbly with fatigue she had not asked Hania for help. Instead, she had departed the wickiup silently, gone to walk out under the stars, listen for the yipping of coyotes and the shriek of distant owls.

She came out of spiritworld at a high point above the camp. She felt the presence before she saw or heard it and turned, one hand on the knife she was becoming far more handy with these days. She relaxed when she saw it was Cheveyo. "What are you doing up?" she asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question," he said. "Nascha, what's wrong?"

She looked at him for a moment, and then dropped her gaze. "I can't sleep," she muttered. "I hurt too much. I keep hoping that wearing out my body will settle my mind, but it keeps on running like a horse I can't stop." She took a sharp breath. "I'm still trying to work up the courage to find and talk to Tse's spirit."

There was compassion in his eyes. "Do you think he'll be angry?"

Nascha gave Cheveyo a bare nod. "I'm afraid he will be. I don't know for sure. But--I don't want to see the look in his eyes. I had to become this, and I had to make the decision I did."

"I can call him for you," Cheveyo said. "Right here. Tonight."

She swallowed, her throat gone dry. "Not right now--"

"How much longer are you going to let it go, Nascha? How much longer are you going to let this keep you from sleep?" His face had gone stern, hard as the rock they stood on.

That stung, and Nascha's shoulders stiffened. "I'm just not ready."

"And when will you be ready?"

Three heartbeats went by. Five. Ten. Then Nascha breathed out. "Do it," she said. "Call him. I need to get this over with."

Cheveyo nodded, and stepped into spiritworld. Nascha followed a moment later, and Tse was already there. "Good luck," Cheveyo said, and stepped out into the real world.

Her heart was pounding loud in her ears. "Tse," she said, and choked. "Tse, I'm sorry."

Tse's form was familiar, and he solidified as he stepped forward. "Nascha?" he said, looking confused. "You're--I keep seeing you and then you're gone, your mother told me you were still alive, but why--"

Nascha held up a hand. "I am spiritwalker," she said softly, her belly clenching painfully. "I was chosen before you died--"

Tse was staring at her. "It's true," he said flatly, confusion resolving into anger. "Spiritwalker. Warrior. My wife."

Words failed her, and she just looked at him, her hands spread wide. "Then the rest is true," Tse continued. "You left me to die, saved Ahiga instead of me. Your mother tried to tell me--I didn't believe her. I never believed you could be so cruel. Thoughtless, careless, but the woman I loved was never cruel."

"It wasn't!" she said, her voice sharp. "Tse, I had a choice to make. I chose to save Ahiga, because Sakhyo is going to need him when we rescue her."

"And you don't need me?" His voice held a rising pain.

She fought the urge to double over. She took a moment to breathe, clenching her jaw. "Tse..." How to explain? "Tse, those who attacked us that day were more than just Arapaho. They were skinwalkers. They intended to make the two of us wives of two of them. I escaped, but I couldn't take Sakhyo and Nastas with me. They are still there, and it has been almost a full season. I was chosen as spiritwalker, by some chance or will of the gods. I have eleven brothers and sisters, their voices in my mind. When they live I rejoice, when they die I grieve. Sakhyo does not have that. All she has is her self, her son, and Ahiga. I am afraid for her, Tse. I am very afraid of what her captivity might have done to her mind, what they might have made her do. She needs Ahiga. And yes, she needs him more than I need you."

Tse was silent, a stunned look entering his eyes. "I never gave up on you," he said, and there was almost an apology in his voice.

"I saw you cut down in front of me," she said. There were tears standing in her eyes. "I lost everything that day. You, my parents, my family. The only things I had to keep me going were the knowledge that Sakhyo and Nastas needed me, and the fact that I refused to die while they were still living. I came close to it, out in the desert. If the spiritwalkers hadn't found me, we would be having this conversation with me dead instead of me living."

There was silence then between the two of them. She wanted so badly to run forward, to throw her arms around him, breathe in his scent. But she knew if she touched him, he would be only so much mist. "Your mother is very proud of you," Tse said quietly. "I didn't want to believe it."

"I love you, Tse," Nascha said. I would have talked to you before, but I was afraid--"

"Afraid that I was going to blow up at you?" he said, giving her a half-smile.

"Yes."

He looked her over, and then drifted forward to touch one of her wrapped braids with an insubstantial hand. "Like a warrior," he said, his voice wondering.

Nascha stood very still, afraid to even breathe. He was so close to her, and she wanted so much to believe that the last season had been a dream, that here was her husband again, come to take her back to her real life.

But her shoulders ached, as did her knees, and it was that familiar pain more than anything else that centered her in the moment. She was spiritwalker now. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've made the decisions I needed to make. But I'm still sorry that you died, and I miss you every sunrise that I don't wake up next to you. I wish so much that you were still in the world."

Tse was still standing close, his eyes seeming almost to feast on her face. "Your mother also said something else," he said. "Something that I didn't believe until this moment. You're not done yet, my love. Not nearly done." He touched her braid again, then drew his hand back. "I need to go, Nascha." He stepped back and faded back into a misty shape.

Nascha, shaken, stepped back into the real world. Cheveyo was standing nearby, and gave her an inquiring look. She shook her head sharply and strode away, up into the hills that surrounded the camp. She stopped at the top of a ridge, her aching knees trembling from the climb, and threw rocks down the other side, releasing each with a silent scream that swelled in her chest that she knew far better than to let out.

She returned back to the wickiup that night and crawled into her blankets. She closed her eyes and listened to the others in the wickiup breathing. Hania and Ahiga were asleep. Cheveyo, she knew, was awake.

That was the last thing she knew that night as sleep rushed up and took her. She woke not at dawn the next morning, but much later, to an empty wickiup that was starting to heat up with the day's sunlight. "I missed the whole morning," she muttered as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes.

"I thought I'd let you sleep," Cheveyo said silently. He stepped into the wickiup, letting the flap fall closed behind him. "You didn't wake when the rest of us got up."

"Oh," she said. "Is Zotum mad that I missed morning practice?"

"Only a little," he said. "I explained. Feeling better?"

She nodded. "He was angry," she said. "But I slept."

"Well, I saved some of the morning meal for you," he said. "Come and eat."

Movement helped, and falling into a routine with the others once again. Nascha slept long and hard that night and the next, finally coming out of the silence that had fallen on her, beginning to smile again.

A few days later, they paused in their training for the feast that marked the passage of summer to fall. The nights were starting to get colder now, and in the morning the wickiups were damp with dew. They all celebrated the passage, marking the change in their lives. Nascha was seventy-one seasons old, and by the time the snow fell her family was going to have been dead for an entire season.

After the feast, Otaktay was well enough to begin training them in earnest. The bruises started once more, and kept up for half a season, Otaktay teaching Nascha and the others things she'd had no idea she was capable of learning.

She was too small to ever go against someone like Otaktay and survive. But she was strong in her own way now, her body taking on the kind of lean hardness that she had noted in all of the older spiritwalkers, even Pezi who was no taller than she was and even lighter. Otaktay taught her how to use her speed and agility to never have to outstrength an opponent.

"Come on, Delsin," she said, rolling away from a somewhat half-hearted blow he'd aimed at her one day in practice. "That was pathetic." They had been put against each other, to get a feel for the real strengths and weaknesses of the others. He stiffened, and then came after her with new resolve. She was still getting to know him and the other new ones, but at every turn Delsin was throwing up the same walls, drowning himself in silence. He was not keeping secrets, but he was even quieter than Pezi--even Pezi was talkative on the bond that kept them all together. He wasn't a bad spiritwalker, but he preferred to be alone for the moment.

Nascha gave him chance after chance to open up and join in, but so far, he was refusing. And now she was almost sorry that she's insulted his fighting prowess, because he was coming after her with what was turning out to be his greatest strength, a thoughtfulness born out of experience.

She was glad when Otaktay called for them to change partners, and this time she was put against Aquene. Aquene tried hard, but her heart, and consequently, the rest of her, wasn't really in it. She disliked weapons, and especially the idea of killing.

She was, however, beginning to become something more. She and Nascha sparred, turning what should have been a down and dirty practice bout into a kind of strange dance, the sort of thing that Otaktay always shouted at them about. Nascha found herself not caring very much right now, though. It was nice to be around Aquene, everything seemed easier with her there. The pauses between them going at each other got longer and longer, and they stopped to talk a little between bouts.

"You're doing it again," she said, and frowned. "Aquene, we talked about this."

"Your mind isn't in it today," Aquene told her. "I can't distract you if you're really interested in sparring. It's just that your mind's elsewhere at the moment."

Nascha made a face. "That's a little strange. But very useful. Especially since I know you're not really fond of training. Now, would you please at least attempt to spar with me before Otaktay notices we've stopped?"

It was too late, though, and Nascha hung her head as Otaktay stomped over and separated the two of them with a sharp word. Nascha's punishment was to be used as Otaktay's next demonstration. Aquene got off with a stern word and was sent to spar against Sahale, of all of them the least susceptible to Aquene's talent.

It was a few days after that when Wahcommo, making a mistake that all of them made at one point, transferred into spiritworld while sitting astride his horse. Usually, he would have fallen once the horse was no longer under him. Wahcommo, though, took his horse with him when he went into spiritworld.

Predictably, Wahcommo's stallion panicked but good, and took hours for even his rider to calm him down. After that, though, Wahcommo started training the horse not to panic while in spiritworld, and began to be able to ride him through the shifting mists of the other world.

Two could ride with him, though anyone not Wahcommo had to transfer into spiritworld first and then mount up behind Wahcommo. When the horse moved in spiritworld, the land slid by even quicker than it did when they were afoot. Nascha tried it exactly once, and after the land went by her at such a speed that she could hardly see, she declined to repeat the experience. She still occasionally had an unsettled stomach after walking in spiritworld for too long or too soon after eating; going that fast was far too much for her.

Okomi, on the other hand, started seeing things. Out of all of them he seemed to trust Otaktay the most, and went to him when he could no longer dismiss the flashes of sight as simply imagination. After working with Otaktay for a bit, he realized that he was seeing out of the eyes of coyotes, his mind jumping from coyote to coyote. He gained some ability to control the one he was in, but his body was wholly defenseless when he was doing so.

He had thought he was going mad, and finding out that it was merely a new talent making an appearance seemed to put his mind at ease. Nascha liked him; he was teaching her Arapaho, he was rapidly learning Apache, and it turned out that he had a sense of humor that showed itself in small, sly flashes.

Gosheven was taking his ability to hide even farther, and he was able now to hide even in spiritworld. He would disappear the moment Nascha glanced away, reappearing later without a sound. It was eerie, but Gosheven's presence, cheerfully, blissfully normal, was such an antidote to the rest of their strange crew that Nascha found herself quite liking him.

She was sitting by Gosheven the day that Ahiga's talent showed itself. They were taking a break, and Ahiga had done something or other to deserve being used as a demonstration by Otaktay. He had always been a good fighter, one of the best the tribe had, but now every move he made was grace itself, and he did not dodge as much as merely arrange to be where the blows were not falling. Watching him, Nascha was put in mind of her grandfather, who'd done much the same thing on the several occasions she'd seen him fight. There was something new in Ahiga now; he was fighting like a man in the presence of the gods.

Otaktay was pressing Ahiga, trying to take him off-balance. It wasn't working. Ahiga fell back, surged forward, and was in the exact location that Otaktay did not expect him to be. The move was quick, so much so that Nascha missed almost all of it but the aftermath, when Otaktay fell face-down in the dirt and Ahiga planted a knee in the small of his back and laid a hatchet on the back of his neck.

All of them held their breaths, and Ahiga himself seemed almost surprised to find himself there. He got up, straightening, backing up a step or two.

Otaktay picked himself up, brushing off his front, and his face broke into a wide grin. "Now there is a fight!" All of them let out the breaths that they were holding. From then on, Otaktay let Ahiga pursue his own course of study when it came to fighting. Unfortunately, that meant that he had a little bit more attention to distribute among the rest of them, and he occasionally set several of them against Ahiga, who doled out almost as many bruises as Otaktay did.

Delsin, on the other hand, was a good fighter but little else. As autumn slipped by, he was still withdrawn from the rest of them, rarely speaking unless he was spoken to. Any progress he was making was so small as to not be visible, but Nascha thought that it was there. It had to be.

And as they trained, as they began to work more and more closely, the new ones mostly stopped being the new ones. They were simply all spiritwalkers. Nascha's grief was beginning to lighten, though she still worried about Sakhyo and Nastas, and knew that they were never far from Ahiga's mind either. Okomi's wife Isi was also a worry; scratch the surface of the Arapaho spiritwalker, and he bled worry and grief for her. They were sent out in quartets to scout sometimes, and Nascha often led these expeditions. Okomi was almost always along with her, and at night, when they made cold camp some distance away from where the Apache were settled, he sometimes told stories about her.

About halfway through fall, there was a murmur that spread through the camp, and in response the entire camp gathered near the wickiup that Adoeete lived in with his family. The words that Adoeete had to say to them, at least the first ones, came as no surprise. "Sharitarish, my father, has died," he said. Sharitarish had been slowing down recently, and the mutters running through the crowd were saddened but not startled.

The next words out of his mouth were a surprise, though. "It has been decided that I am to lead the elders."

Nascha glanced at Cheveyo. "Leadership is decided by battles won and kills," Cheveyo said silently, projecting to all of them. "Spiritwalkers have an advantage."

There was nothing else from Adoeete, so the crowd broke up and drifted away, except for a knot of men who stayed to discuss building a platform for Sharitarish's body. Cheveyo's eyes were dark and worried, and the rest of the older spiritwalkers, whose who had experience with Adoeete, all wore approximately the same look.

She wandered away from them as they headed back to what they had been doing, and walked towards Adoeete. He was briefly alone, watching a spirited argument that had just broken out among those who were trying to help.

"I'm sorry," she said to Adoeete. "About your father, not about you leading the elders."

He almost smiled, and the slight movement of his face almost seemed as if it would crack. "There are those who are sorry about one, and angry about the other," he said. "But thank you, Nascha."

She nodded and retreated.

The next day, Cheveyo came to Nascha as she sat in front of the wickiup, making some new arrows. He dropped down to his heels next to her. "I feared as much," he said. "We have new orders, which for now is fine, but I don't like the tone of them."

She smoothed down the feather she was using for fletching. Her hair was unbraided; she'd just combed it out and was letting the wind blow through it. "What are they?"

"Adoeete doesn't like where are food stores are for now. He doesn't think we have enough. He might be right so far. We are going raiding and buffalo hunting."

"That doesn't seem so bad," she said. "What don't you like about the tone?"

Cheveyo shook his head. "The tone is more to come, and you will obey me."

"Ah. He wants to make sure you know who's in charge," she said, and set the arrow aside. She wrapped the arrowheads she had been using in a piece of leather.

Cheveyo twitched his mouth. "Yes. So Pezi is going to go search for buffalo, and tomorrow we ride out. I don't think the killing cliff would be wise tomorrow, but another day. We need to bring down one apiece."

"A lot of work for a day," she said, thinking about the hunt she had been on with Adoeete. They had only brought one down, and that had been enough work.

"It will be. I see something darker working here, but I don't know what. It's just a feeling." He shook his head, his voice taking on the edge that meant that he was a lot more worried than he let on.

Nascha thought about Adoeete, about the fear that underlied everything he did, how alone he must feel right now with his father just died and the responsibility he had longed for and feared at the same time for years. She found it hard to doubt Adoeete like Cheveyo did, but Cheveyo's feelings were difficult to dismiss. "I can still hope that Adoeete is going to be reasonable," she said.

Cheveyo looked over at her, doubting. "Do you really think he will be?"

She shook her head. "Probably not. When he still had the others to overrule him, he might have been. But he doesn't like you, and he wants to make it very clear who's in charge."

"Yes, and that is the way it's going to be. There will come a time soon when we are going to have to make a choice, and it's going to be a tough one."

She thought about the things that Adoeete might order them to do--or to not do. "So what happens when spiritwalkers don't follow their orders?" she asked, even her silent voice quiet.

He inclined his head slightly. "When that happens we will be assumed to be skinwalkers, and hunted. The other thing that usually happens is that the tribe dies."

Nascha picked up the arrow next to her, and ran her thumb over the fletching again. "Even if Adoeete knows we're no such thing?" There were people here she cared about here, men and women and children.

"Yes, we have abandoned our charge," he said.

She shook her head. "Bitter choice. Especially if he tells us not to go after Chogan."

"Which I think will come." Cheveyo glanced over at her again, and then smiled briefly. "Do you think a little buffalo hunt will scare our new spiritwalkers?"

She considered the new ones, turning them over in her mind. "Wahcommo, it will, but he'll try not to admit it. Aquene probably isn't going to like it much. I know Ahiga will probably be excited to go, and I think Okomi as well, and I don't think Delsin will care one way or the other. Gosheven, not sure either way."

Cheveyo nodded. "Let them know. I think I am going to walk the spiritworld. I think something more is coming."

"I will," she said. "Call if you need help."

"I will. How are you doing?" he asked.

She took a breath, and her chin dropped a bit. "Worried. I was hoping to start after Sakhyo soon. Otherwise, all right."

"We will see how they do tomorrow," he said.

Her thumb stilled on the feather. "I think they'll mostly be fine. The only way to tell is to be there, though."

He reached out to her unexpectedly, brushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. She tensed, a little. "I am glad you are one of us. And I am glad you are here," he said, looking her in the eye. He stood swiftly, and then disappeared into spiritworld.

Nascha blinked, staring at the space he had occupied a moment before, and then relaxed, a small smile touching her lips. She felt warm, flushed. Cheveyo had not hidden his feelings for her, but neither had he pressed her in any way. He had simply been there, patient, waiting to see if she was going to ever return those feelings.

Part of her was still an open wound, grieving Tse's death. But another part of her had been spending more and more time lately thinking about Cheveyo. And that part of her was connected to parts of her that definitely liked the idea of at least kissing him and seeing where things went from there.

She shook her head and slid the arrow she was holding into her quiver. "We're going on a buffalo hunt," she said, broadcasting to the new ones.

"Us?" she heard Aquene say, her silent voice almost squeaking. "But--"

"Adoeete doesn't like where the food stores stand," she told them. "We ride out tomorrow morning."

Aquene came around the wickiup; she'd evidently been nearby. There were excited murmurs from the rest of the new ones; Wahcommo sounded like he was nearly exploding with excitement. Even Delsin's voice held some interest in the prospect. Aquene, however, was not nearly so excited. "Nascha, I hate this idea," she said, keeping her voice low.

"I thought you might," she said. "Orders are orders, though. I've been on a hunt, it wasn't so bad."

The other woman looked at her in dismay. "You're as wild as a boy, though. I don't like the killing..."

Nascha sighed. "Aquene. We are spiritwalkers. One of our duties is to find food for the tribe when normal hunting fails. Think of it as practice for killing skinwalkers one of these days."

Aquene closed her eyes, and an expression of pain crossed her face. Nascha felt a surge of compassion for her fellow spiritwalker, such a gentle soul with a core of granite, a hidden strength that she wasn't sure Aquene really believed she owned. "You can do this," she said to her. "I'll be there, and the rest of us. You don't have to do this on your own."

"I know." Aquene opened her eyes and smiled briefly, and then retreated, leaving Nascha feeling as if there was something more she could have said or done, but unsure of what. She ducked into the wickiup, to gather what she would need for the morning.

Pezi had located a herd about a day's ride away. They left as soon as it was light enough for the horses, and rode the entire day. It had been some time since Nascha had spent so much time at once on Una, and though she was tougher physically now than she ever had been, she still ached when they stopped for the night. They made a cold camp and slept, and the next morning left the horses in a hidden hollow and walked to where Pezi had seen the herd.

The ground under their feet was vibrating from the pounding of thousands of hooves. The herd was currently moving through a shallow, wide valley, and they watched it for a moment from the low ridge above it. There must be several thousand animals here.

Cheveyo said, "Pezi and Nascha, please scout the area. I want to know if we are alone or other tribes are here too. Don't worry about killing your quota, we will pick up the extra. Aquene go with Otaktay and Zotum. The rest with me."

Nascha and Pezi nodded. "I go this way, you go that way," he said, pointing. She pushed into spiritworld and he did the same, and they circled around the herd in opposite directions.

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary, only buffalo tracks, trampled and cropped plants, dung fragrant with whatever grasses the buffalo had recently been eating. Then there were other tracks, human ones. From the fringe-marks on the prints, she thought they were probably made by a group of Utes.

She came across a place where slaughtering had happened; this hunting group had taken down at least two large bison. She followed the trail a bit, and saw the hunting party leave, hauling butchered animals with them. They were gone and had been for two days, now.

Still, something wasn't quite right. Nascha didn't know what it was, but there was something unsettling her. She followed the tracks of the Ute a little farther, and her eyes narrowed. There was part of a print outside of the line of Ute warriors, a shoe in a different style. Before her eyes, an image sprang up--a faceless Arapaho warrior.

There was what had been unsettling Nascha. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she found it--places where the Ute prints were blurred more than the two days they had been here would have done. The Arapaho had walked in, and used the Ute trail to cover their tracks. "I've got something," she reported back to the rest. "Arapaho trail, fresh. I'm going to go look."

One Arapaho had become two, and two had become twenty, a way out from the herd. They had abandoned the trail and circled around behind a ridge on the other side of the valley, and it was there that she found them, stalking the herd. "We're not the only ones who thought these looked good," she said dryly, watching the hunters.

"What do you have?" Cheveyo asked.

"Twenty or so Arapaho, hunters, moving in on this herd. No spiritwalkers I can see."

The sound of Cheveyo's voice narrowed, and she knew he was speaking only to the old team. "Think they can handle it?"

Nascha thought about the new ones, their capabilities and strengths and weaknesses. "I think so, except maybe Aquene," she said, to the same audience that Cheveyo had addressed.

"We do this, we are going to start a bigger war," he said, warning.

Her eyes returned to the men moving in on the herd. "Could just go find another herd that doesn't have Arapaho stalking it."

"Probably, but the less Arapaho we have when we go into their camp, the better to rescue your cousin."

It was a point, and though these men would not make a serious dent in the strength of the Arapaho, every warrior killed was one less that might kill them. "True. And we have a chance to surprise them."

Cheveyo's voice held a gravity in it. "We are spiritwalkers. No survivors. One gets back, and it will really be war."

"Understood," she said.

Cheveyo's focus widened to include all of the spiritwalkers. "We have Arapaho at Nascha's location. We are going to kill them all. No survivors. Go to Nascha, and then we will form a ring around them. Fire into them first, hand to hand only if you have to."

Her brothers and sister began arriving next to her in spiritworld. It was still eerie, to have them simply appear silently beside her, but Nascha took heart from their presence. She started getting herself set, looking over the new ones for signs of panic.

Aquene was looking scared, swallowing nervously, fumbling with her bow. Nascha went to her, set her hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's all right, you'll do fine. If you get into trouble, jump behind Otaktay. I have on occasion."

She looked up at Nascha, and her brow was knotted. "I will. Thanks."

And then they spread out, stepped out of spiritworld, and began battle.

Almost half of the Arapaho were killed or seriously wounded in the first volley of arrows. It was more or less a slaughter; the hunters had not been expecting them, and they were surrounded. Most of the new spiritwalkers acquitted themselves well. Even Aquene managed to fire a few arrows, though Nascha didn't think she hit anything. She was pleased that Aquene had tried, at least.

Nascha was standing next to Delsin, and though he did hit several of the enemy, she noticed that he wasn't bothering to dodge the arrows sent back his way. He never ducked, just stood there, a target plain as sunrise. He wasn't hit, though a couple of arrows did come close.

"Pick up the arrows," Cheveyo said. "Good job, all. Time for the hunt. We are going to drive the buffalo over the corpses. That will make them think for awhile."

They all headed to gather up their arrows. Nascha made her way over to Delsin, who was pulling an arrow from the shoulder of a dead Arapaho. "You know, getting yourself killed isn't really going to help anything," she said silently to him.

He straightened, looked at her. There was a look on his face, a sort of wistful sorrow, that Nascha recognized as being the look he got when he was thinking about his wife. "Might help me in the end."

Her breath hissed out between her teeth. She liked Delsin, but right now she was irritated with him. "Like it or not, Delsin, you're a spiritwalker. There are eleven people depending on you and your skills, as the tribe as a whole depends on us. Getting killed is a hazard of being who we are, but it's not something we should invite."

Delsin's expression cleared abruptly, and he blinked at her, looking a little cowed. "I understand. I will try to find cover next time."

"Good," she said, and walked away to start pulling arrows. She wondered if Delsin would remember, next time, what she'd said, and wondered if there were any precedent for a spiritwalker having to be held back from his own self-destructive impulses. The thought of what she knew of Cheveyo, and decided that there was precedent enough. She would keep a closer eye on Delsin.

Then it was time for the hunt. They used a different strategy than horseback hunters would use, staying afoot, using their spiritwalking to outmaneuver the buffalo. Cheveyo, Nascha, and Pezi stayed out of the killing, keeping watch, directing the others to drive the herd over the bodies of the dead Arapaho. Otaktay brought down four buffalo by himself, and in the end even Aquene got one. It took her almost all of her arrows and a good long time, but she was determined and as far as Nascha could tell she didn't even think about giving up.

When the buffalo came crashing down and Aquene spilled its life out on the ground, Nascha whooped for her, waving and grinning. Aquene, abruptly covered in buffalo blood, looked up at her and grinned back.

Then it was work for all of them to slaughter and prepare the beasts for transport. Pezi went to fetch the horses. Because there were so many of them, certain parts of the buffalo would be left behind. It was a long day's ride back, and they arrived at the camp just before they would have had to stop and rest the horses for the night.

They were surrounded by Apache, and all but the youngest lent a hand to carry and hang the meat. That night they danced the buffalo dances, thanking the gods and the land, celebrating the lives of the animals who had died so this tribe would live through the winter. Nascha kept an eye on Adoeete. He was smiling some, but every time he glanced at Cheveyo his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. It could have been that the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but there was suspicion in Nascha that wasn't quite it.

Nascha found herself near Cheveyo quite a bit during the dances, and near Ahiga when she wasn't close to Cheveyo. The evening meal was served, and Cheveyo came to sit next to her while they ate. The rest of the spiritwalkers drifted over to sit nearby in loose groups, Otaktay and Zotum giving each other a hard time as usual.

Their bowls were almost empty when Cheveyo set his aside and stretched. "I am hot, sweaty and still a bit bloody from that hunt," he said to her. "I am going to go wash off and go to bed. Need a bath as well?"

She looked down at herself and wrinkled her nose. "Probably a good idea."

"I know a spot. Come with me? I won't peek, I promise, but someone should be looking out for the other while we bathe." He smiled, and Nascha smiled back, charmed. She trusted him, trusted that he might have ulterior motives for getting her off by herself, but if she didn't make the first move he really would not press the issue.

And those ulterior motives were ones that Nascha was finding herself not entirely unopposed to. "Sounds good, lead on," she said, and got up.

He stepped into spiritworld and she followed. He led her to the place nearby where the barrier was thin, and then a little farther. They stopped and came out of spiritworld at a place where a cold spring gushed out of the cliffside and gathered in a small pond. The pond trickled away into reeds at the edge. "After you?" Cheveyo said, and turned around to watch the foot-beaten path that led to this place.

Nascha stripped and got into the water, unbraiding her hair and ducking her head under the water. It was good to get clean, to wash the dust and the blood off. The pond was about waist-deep and more than large enough for two people to share, and Nascha thought briefly that she wouldn't mind if Cheveyo got in with her. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred.

Aquene's voice came into her mind. "I heard that. What's stopping you?"

Nascha jumped; she hadn't known Aquene had been paying attention to her. She ducked her head under the water again. "I know where that sort of thing leads, and I can't do what I need to do if I get pregnant."

"You are living with Hania. He can stop a pregnancy from starting." Aquene's voice held a bit of amusement mixed with impatience.

She blinked; she had known that shamans could encourage pregnancy, but she had never known an adult woman who wanted to stop pregnancies from happening. Mostly, if you were worried about that, it meant you were doing something you shouldn't be. "He can? I never thought to ask him."

"I am sure he can. Our shaman could." There was more amusement in her voice now. "Though that might be an awkward conversation. I want to sleep with your grandson, can I have herbs to stop pregnancy."

Nascha ducked her head under the water again, shaking her head to let her hair float free behind her. "Might be, but we live with him. I'm pretty sure he's figured out that Cheveyo likes me, and I'm starting to like him back."

"It's evident on both of your bodies, if not in your minds yet," Aquene said, a bit slyly.

She remembered lying awake, listening to the others in the wickiup breathe, thinking about the possibility of asking Cheveyo if she could share his blankets. "Well, I'll think about it," she said.

"You think too much sometimes. But it's your choice. Have fun."

Nascha laughed silently and stood, wringing out her hair. She climbed out of the water and stood at the edge of the pond, dripping. Her clothes were in a pile on a nearby rock, and she thought about simply going over and pulling them on. But--

She turned away from her clothes, towards Cheveyo, who was standing with his back to her, looking down the path. "I'm done, Cheveyo," she said.

He turned, and his eyes widened a bit. He had seen her naked before; they shared a wickiup, it was unavoidable. This was different, and the air between them felt abruptly alive, like the sky during a storm. He didn't move from the spot. "You may have forgotten your clothes. But I can see that you missed a spot."

Nascha smiled, cocking her head slightly. "There's room for two, if you'd like to help with that." He'd unbraided his hair, she saw, and let it fall loose. Her fingers curled with the sudden urge to reach out to him.

There was an odd look in his eyes, almost of recognition, as if he had never quite looked at her properly before. "Any time," he said, and swiftly shucked his clothing. He stepped over to her and pulled her into an embrace, lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. "It was right there," he said softly, smiling.

"I think you maybe didn't get it all," she said, and pulled his head down again so she could kiss him. Her wet skin was slippery against his body, and she felt heat spreading through her. "Want help washing?" she asked, once she had thoroughly kissed him and could speak again.

"Yes," was his simple answer, and he pulled her into the water.

There was at least a token attempt made at washing, as Nascha found it a good excuse to run her hands over him, acquaint her hands with how he felt under them. Cheveyo was letting her take the lead for the moment, and waited until she had gotten over the remainder of her shyness at being in the water with him to return her caresses.

Their movement caused the water to ripple out and away from them, splashing against the shore. Nascha hissed a breath inward as Cheveyo's hand found one of her nipples, and closed her eyes. "I don't want to get pregnant," she said softly. "I need to talk to your grandfather. I was not, ah, expecting..."

Cheveyo chuckled, stilling his hand for a moment. "I know." Then he kissed her and began to move his hands again. She abandoned herself to pleasure, to the marvelous feelings that were rising in her at his touch, the sense of urgency that was building in the two of them.

Eventually, she found herself being pulled onto Cheveyo's lap, having found a smooth rock underwater to brace themselves against, his fingers in the place where heat was radiating out from to fill her whole body. As naked as their bodies were, so were their minds, and Nascha could barely comprehend the things she was feeling in him. But he would speed up and slow down when she desired it, before the thought even occurred to her to voice a request. And as she touched him, she realized that she was following the direction of desires he was not voicing aloud.

She would have been afraid, but there was no room for fear. There was only the water and the feelings flooding her, the desire and the pleasure and longing intertwined as their limbs. Sometime later, when the moon had set and the two of them were starting to feel the chill of the water and the bite of the desert night air, they returned to the camp. It was only then that Nascha somewhat belatedly remembered the ten other people who had been direct witnesses to what she and Cheveyo had been doing. Most of the other spiritwalkers were still with their families around the communal fire. And almost to a person, they smirked at the two of them as they came into view, holding hands.

Aquene's smile was not quite a smirk, but it was close. She was sitting with Pezi and his mother, Ahiga on her other side. Silently, Aquene said, "It was good for me. It was probably better in person."

Nascha hadn't been blushing before, but she did now. At the same time, she grinned at her spiritwalker sister. "It was. Do you have your eye on someone, yourself?"

"In time, maybe," she said, her voice a bit sly. "You took the good one."

Nascha rolled her eyes, but didn't offer a list of the sterling qualities of those among their brothers who were unmarried. Nascha figured that Aquene could figure out which one she liked for herself. "Well, you can always choose someone not a spiritwalker. There are any number of young men who probably wouldn't mind around."

"True," Aquene said, "but after what you experienced, I don't think I would want anything else. He wasn't just inside you. He was with you in your mind. That has to be intense."

They were past the fire now, making their way towards the wickiup. Nascha considered the shaky feeling in her knees and chest. "It was, yes. Overwhelming, really."

"Ya, I will take a longer look over my choices." There was still a warmth in Aquene's voice, a lingering trace of a heat that Nascha had never heard before in it. She rather thought that Aquene had not even attempted to shield her and Cheveyo out. "Good sleep, Nascha."

"You, as well," she told her, and followed Cheveyo into the wickiup. There were an awkward few minutes inside, as neither of them seemed to know what to do with their eyes or hands now that this had happened, and they were back on familiar ground. They were the first back; Hania and Ahiga were still out by the fire. Nascha sat down on her mat to braid her damp hair, and Cheveyo crawled under his blankets. When she was done and her braid was secured, she looked up and saw that Cheveyo had lifted his blanket, beckoning with an inquiring look.

She didn't hesitate a moment once the invitation was offered. She stripped quickly and joined him under the blanket, kissing him and nestling down with him. There was such a sense of safety, of an emptiness inside of her eased at least for the moment, that she wondered why she hadn't done this before. He had been waiting for her to say something, to call him closer.

Then she flinched as a stab of guilt came from the place where her memories of Tse resided, promises they had whispered to each other while they were courting: only you, for this life. There can be no others. The promises of children to one another, as brittle as obsidian.

"You all right?" Cheveyo asked. His arm tightened around her briefly.

There could be no lies between them. "Feeling a little guilty," she said. "I know there's no real reason for me to. I don't have regrets, but..."

"It feels a little like betrayal," he said. "I know. My family died long enough ago that I don't feel it any more, but I know what that feels like. Simply continuing to breathe, afterwards, felt like the same kind of betrayal."

Nascha sighed and shifted in his arms. "I don't want to stop this, but...Tse hasn't been dead an entire season yet. I loved him..." She trailed off, wondered where she had been going with that.

"And you still haven't stopped looking for him in back of every hill," Cheveyo said. "I know."

"I'm happy about this," she said. "About you. I'm just going to have to get through losing Tse. Be patient with me?"

Cheveyo chuckled a little and kissed her hair. "Always," he said, the simple word carrying a sense of determination with roots as deep as mountains. There didn't seem to need to be any more words between them, and Nascha fell into a light sleep soon afterwards. She heard Hania and Ahiga come in later, and afterwards finally fell into a deeper sleep.

The next morning, she and Cheveyo rose early, before everyone else, and went to silently check on the horses and walk a quick patrol around the camp. Once they came back, Cheveyo lent a hand with the morning meal and Nascha went back to the wickiup. She saw Ahiga step into spiritworld, and pulled the flap of the wickiup aside.

"Grandfather?" she asked, blinking into the dim as her eyes adjusted.

"I wondered when you'd come find me," Hania said. His hands were full of small, round stones that he seemed to be sorting through. "And I'm guessing I know what you want."

"I can't do what I need to do if I get pregnant," she said with a smile. "My plan was to use the usual way of avoiding pregnancy, but it seems a long road."

Hania chuckled. "Well, good. Glad you finally decided to do something about the fact that you two can't keep your eyes off one another." He put the stones down and reached behind him. "Put three pinches of this mixture in some water, let it soak for a bit, and drink it all when it's well soaked." He tossed a leather bag at her. "This one--" he held up a smaller bag-- "is for using between now and your next moon." He tossed it at her. "Hot water on this one, and it'll probably make you feel a little sick to your stomach, and bleed a little. That's normal. And there's this as well." He held out a clay pot, and she reached over to take it from him.

She worked the lid off and leaned down to take a sniff. It smelled like-- "Aloe?"

The shaman grinned. "Makes things slippery when you run a bit dry. Useful to have around. Me and Cheveyo's grandmother, Sunki, we used it a lot. There are also other things you can you it for, of course."

Nascha raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Hania was only too glad to elaborate. After Nascha got over having a man talk to her about this sort of thing--she was used to frank discussion of sex coming from the women of her family, not usually the men--she learned a number of things that her mother and aunt had never talked about. Hania and Sunki had been quite inventive when Sunki had been alive, starting from sneaking off together before they had gotten married and continuing until she had died in a raid, twenty seasons before the one that had taken the lives of Cheveyo's parents and wife and child.

The conversation drifted a bit, towards Cheveyo and what was happening in the tribe at the moment. Nascha was shaking her head as she said, "I'm just worried about how Adoeete's new responsibilities are sitting with him."

He snorted. "Adoeete will cause you trouble, I am sure of that. He has wanted to lead something since he was child. But sometimes the ones that want to lead are the least qualified."

"He's very focused on what he thinks is best for the tribe," she said. "And when he gets an idea in his head, he never wants to let go of it."

"Yes, so he will send his spiritwalkers to protect the tribe and lead with a very short leash," Hania said. There was just the beginnings of a frown at the corners of his eyes. "He will find that to be a spiritwalker requires a longer view than just down the end of his nose."

Nascha wrinkled her nose. Idly, she drew one hand around the belly of the pot of aloe she had on her lap, feeling the roughness of the designs on it. "You'd think he'd have learned that, being one of us for so long," she said, a touch sourly.

"He did not lead, he just second-guessed Cheveyo."

She was silent for a few moments, looking down at her hands. "I'm worried that he's going to order us not to go after my cousin. I'd have to decide between obeying orders and my family."

Hania's voice was gentle. "You will have to make that choice, I am sure. But you can be assured that Cheveyo will go with you."

She looked up at him, her hands stilled. "That almost makes the decision harder in some ways. Easier in others. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe Adoeete will be reasonable, or I'll be able to talk him into being so."

"You should have been named optimistic owl," Hania said, chuckling once more.

Nascha made a face. "I try not to borrow too much trouble before it gets here. I have enough already." She smiled at Hania.

"You do at that, daughter. Can I call you daughter?" he asked.

"Well, since I'm calling you Grandfather, it's only fair," she replied.

"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now go take your herbs and put that gel to work."

Nascha grinned and unfolded herself, standing up and stretching. "Yes, sir!" she said, and went to find some water and a cup.

A bit later, she found Cheveyo near the edge of the camp, by the horses. He was watching the horses graze, many of them standing head to tail with another horse. The flies were thick, though not nearly as thick as they had been some days ago, when it had started getting cold at night.

He turned when he heard her footstep behind her, and though he brightened to see her, his eyes were worried. "What's wrong?" she asked, putting aside the reason she'd come to find him for the moment.

Cheveyo shook his head. "Visions from the spiritworld."

"What did you see?"

"Cheyenne, Sioux, Ute dead. Killed by Dichali and Chahta."

Nascha took a sharp breath at the names of those who had gone before, reminded of the silence that Dichali had left behind that she was almost used to now. "So they'll blame the apache for the deaths. We knew Chogan had something planned, and that makes sense."

"I see a trap also, but one we should spring carefully," he said.

She followed the thought, and saw where it was leading. "You think they're trying to draw an attack?"

He inclined his head. "I do. They are killing tribes, blaming us, and then we will be under attack."

"They want us to commit to an attack that they've already prepared for, maybe," she said, thinking about what she knew of Chogan.

"Or they are waiting for us to come to look at these attacks to see if we will show."

"Also possible. We have a good idea where the Arapaho are at the moment. We could go look at them, instead of those attacks," she suggested.

"To see if Chogan is there?"

She raised her hand, tipping it to the side. "Yes. We might be able to tell which of the skinwalkers are out doing this, and find and stop them. If they want us to go look at the attacks, then we need to do something they don't expect."

"It's a good plan. Let's go early tomorrow," he said.

"Pezi and Gosheven with us?" she suggested, thinking about what they were likely to encounter.

Cheveyo nodded. "Good choices." He gave her a smile that filled her with a strange sort of pride. He gave her thoughts full measure, as much as he gave the spiritwalkers who had been with him many more seasons than she had. She had watched him; he was not quite testing any of the new ones like he had her.

"Since we're not planning on attacking, I think the four of us will do," she said.

"Same here. It's a good scouting mission." He gave her a smile, and reached out to take her hand. "Are you busy this afternoon?"

Nascha grinned. "Not unless Otaktay or Zotum comes looking for me. That was why I was coming looking for you, actually."

"Hopefully for the same reason I had in mind for you." His voice was warm, and his fingers had tightened on her hand.

"I think so," she said, and pulled him so their bodies touched along their length. She raised her mouth and he brought his down, and she kissed him, trying to express the feelings she had put aside for a moment and that now were rising in her, unstoppable. "Your grandfather gave me some things that I'd like to try out."

"Good," he said, and kissed her again. They ended up walking a short distance to a hollow near the corral that was shaded by a couple of small, twisted trees. For some reason, nerves were knotting Nascha's belly, and she experienced a resurgence of the shyness she'd felt last night. The other feelings soon blotted it out, and by the time they were both bare under the sun she was quite thoroughly distracted.

It was different this time, and it wasn't just the warmth of the sun and the insects that buzzed by their heads. Last night had been a passion quick as lightning. Today, the heat between them built more slowly, and in the strange place where their minds slid in and out of each other's, thoughts twining around each other, Nascha was aware of things she had not been last night. They were wordless things about Cheveyo and about herself, desires that ran nameless under their skins, encompassing the physical and so much more.

They had hours to spend here and nothing urgent waiting for them anywhere else; a luxury in the lives of spiritwalkers, one that they intended to make the most of. They teased each other into a frenzy, matching fire for fire, and when Nascha wordlessly demanded that Cheveyo join with her he didn't hesitate, only acquiesced as rhythms older than themselves pressed them together, their heartbeats pounding like the drums of the dance.

They rhythm accelerated, quickly, so quickly, and Nascha wrapped herself around Cheveyo and clung as release came over her abruptly, almost unexpectedly, and his followed directly after. They shuddered together and were still, Cheveyo's breath harsh in her ear, both of them wringing wet with sweat. Nascha felt almost stunned, pleasure leaving her mind temporarily empty. She took a long breath inward, feeling Cheveyo's weight pressing down on her.

They rolled over then, still wordless, Nascha curling up with Cheveyo and closing her eyes, savoring the aftermath and recovery. "Your grandfather tells the most interesting stories," she said, finally. "I learned all kinds of things."

Cheveyo chuckled. "Yes, he does," he said. He raised a hand to stroke her hair, almost reverently. They didn't speak for a while after that, and once she felt some energy returning Nascha wriggled around in his arms to kiss him. So most of the afternoon passed, and they returned about the time the evening meal was being prepared. Nascha was sore in ways she hadn't been since she was first married, but it was an ache that had a kind of sweetness to it, a reminder of what she had spent much of the day doing. Cheveyo looked tired but happy, and cheerfully engaged in a verbal joust with his grandfather when Hania asked him questions about where they'd spent the afternoon.

Ahiga came to sit next to her, after the meal. "Hey, little sister," he said, slinging and arm around her and squeezing. "Have a good time today?"

She learned into him, savoring his familiar presence. "You know I did, big brother," she said, her voice teasing. "So. Do you approve?"

Ahiga let her go and turned to face her, looking serious. "Would it make a difference, if I did?"

She was taken aback a bit by the tone of his voice, drawing in a half-breath. "No," she said. "It would make things more difficult, but...I chose this. I don't think I could turn away now, not for you, not for anyone." Her heart was heavy in her chest, and she tried to imagine what Ahiga's disapproval might mean. It would be so hard to make everyone happy, especially if she had to hide her feelings for Cheveyo from Ahiga.

But Ahiga grinned. "Then I approve," he told her. "You should see your face, Nascha. You have something good with Cheveyo, and you have my blessing."

Nascha hugged her brother, her tongue too thick to speak. That night, curled under the blanket with Cheveyo's warmth next to her, she gave thanks to the gods. She might have more trouble in her life than she'd ever anticipated, but for the moment the rewards were more than worth it.

In the cold predawn the next morning, she, Cheveyo, Gosheven, and Pezi met in the center of the camp, all of them shivering a bit. They knew where the Arapaho had been going, the Sioux encampment that Nascha had found burned a lifetime ago, before Ahiga and Aquene had joined them. It was an hour's walk in spiritworld towards the landmarks that Nascha remembered.

The Arapaho camp was in the lee of a low rise, nearly on top of the former Sioux camp, and they avoided the sentinels that watched from the rise and circled around the camp. It was as large as ever, with what seemed like hundreds of wickiups. Nascha concentrated and picked out Chogan and Chuslum's wickiups, distinctive designs painted on the hide walls.

It was sunrise, and as they approached the camp they could see people up and around, hauling water, starting the morning meal. Nascha, after a few minutes, spotted Sakhyo, who came out to the fire in front of Chuslum's wickiup and blew the embers into sullen life, feeding it buffalo chips. She went into the wickiup and returned with Nastas in a cradle, and a sack of what turned out to be corn.

Nascha watched her cousin grind corn into flour, her heart caught in her throat. She moved like her shoulders hurt, her head bowed low. Chuslum stepped out of the wickiup and spoke briefly to Sakhyo, not nodded and hung her head even lower. Then he sat down across the fire from her, bringing out arrowheads and feathers, working on his weapons with familiar motions. His big hands worked the arrows with surprising deftness.

If she saw one skinwalker, then there had to be three more. As they watched, Cheveyo pointed out Halian, and Pezi spotted Tokala. "I think that's smoke coming from the vent in Chogan's wickiup," Pezi added, squinting at the camp.

"He must be still too wounded to go much of anywhere quickly," Cheveyo said. "Nascha, do you remember what was inside Chogan's tent. Were there a lot of things to burn?"

"The skins. Otherwise, not really, though all the mess might burn well. Why?" She was looking hard at said tent, her mouth hard. Fear was metallic at the back of her throat. Her body remembered the terror of the days she'd spent in that camp, though her mind had mostly made peace with it.

"Less skins, less disguises," Cheveyo said, his eyebrow raised.

Nascha nodded. "He might even think it was an accident."

"He might at that. in the distraction, we can see if Chuslum moves away from Sakhyo."

Her breath caught. She felt such longing, to talk to her cousin, let her know that she was alive and was going to come for her. There was a chance her, but they were going to have to be very, very careful. "We could talk to her. Let her know I'm alive."

Cheveyo smiled slightly. "And that you haven't forgotten her."

"I hope she doesn't think I haven't," she said, glancing at Sakhyo, still grinding corn.

"Best to get a chance to talk to her," he said. "Pezi, pop in and out of Chogan's tent. Do not do anything but look. If there is nobody in there, signal. Gosheven you go to him, start the wickiup on fire. Nascha, you and I get to wait to see what happens. and we will move if Chuslum moves."

It was a plan, and a good one. Nascha nodded, and Pezi took off. He stepped through the wickiup wall and stayed inside, and then signaled. Gosheven went in, and the smoke from inside the wickiup began to get thicker and darker. Pezi and Gosheven returned, none the worse for wear, and they all settled in to wait.

It didn't take long for the first shouts to go up, and the tent began to flame soon after. A crowd began to gather, people running with buckets for a nearby spring to dump onto the fire.

Nascha tensed as Chuslum rose. The big men set aside the arrow he was working on, ands bent to free Nastas from his cradle, carrying the child in his arms and walking towards the fire. Sakhyo got up and followed, but she was lagging behind. "Go blend into the crowd. I will be right behind you," Cheveyo said.

Nascha nodded to Cheveyo, and then got up and began walking in spiritworld into the camp. She could feel Cheveyo's presence behind her like a wind. She dropped out of spiritworld when nobody was watching, and tried to walk like one of the people here. She caught up with Sakhyo quickly, falling in right at her shoulder. "Sakhyo, don't turn around. It's me."

Sakhyo's step faltered and slowed, but she did not look around. "Nascha?"

"Yes. I wanted to let you know that I'm still alive, I still remember you, and I'm still trying to get you out," she said in a rush. She had no idea how much time she had, but it was not much.

Her cousin's head bowed. "Please hurry. Life is not good."

"We're working as quickly as we can. The skinwalkers that have you are vicious foes."

"I know," she said, making a noise that was half laugh, half sob. "They are unpleasant. Chogan is by far the worst."

She took a shallow breath. "I'm sure he is. And he appears to be claiming that I'm his betrothed. Ahiga lives, and he loves you and worries for you."

"Thank you for that." Her voice faltered, broke. "I wish I was with him."

"I'll tell him. We'll get you out, Sakhyo." There was a vicious anger rising in her, that anyone dared to do this to her beloved cousin. She swallowed it down.

Sakhyo's voice had died almost to a whisper, and her shoulders were rounded. She had almost stopped walking. "Please tell Ahiga I am sorry. I had to give into them. All of them. I think I am with child again."

The anger in Nascha flared and died, replaced by a tearing sensation as if her heart was breaking open. No. Oh, no. Oh, Sakhyo. She swallowed again, and this time her throat was as raw and dry as if she'd been crying. "He knew you might, and he loves you still. We'll deal with what we need to when we get you."

"If you can't by spring..." She saw the muscles in Sakhyo's jaw working. "Come back for me. I would rather have an arrow than this life."

"I know, and I will. I need to go before someone notices me talking to you. I love you, Sakhyo. Kiss Nastas for me."

"I love you. I will," her cousin said. The tearing sensation still with her, Nascha stepped into spiritworld, leaving her cousin behind. She turned back towards Gosheven and Pezi, and Cheveyo fell in beside her. He made as if to take her hand and then tensed. Nascha saw what he'd seen only a heartbeat later.

Movement, where none should be, in spiritworld and moving with purpose. Four of them, it looked like. "We should go," Nascha said.

"Step out, I will be right behind you." She nodded and pushed out of spiritworld, her shoes hitting dirt almost toe to toe with Gosheven, who looked surprised.

"We should probably leave. At least we know where the other four are for the moment," she said.

Cheveyo shook his head. "Wait. There were four there, I only saw three step out."

She shook her head. "We may have a fight on our hands, if the one who stayed finds us."

"Or we go after him," Cheveyo suggested.

She shook her head sharply. "Would make it very clear that we've been here, but they may figure that out on their own."

"They probably will. But you might be right. All of you leave east, and go quickly. Turn south and then west. Meet back at camp. Try to keep sight of one another." They all nodded and stepped into spiritworld, moving quickly and with purpose.

They ran east and then turned south, stringing out a bit as they had a tendency to do in here. Nascha felt rather than heard Pezi's gasp. "Lost Gosheven," he said, a world of urgency in his voice.

Gosheven's presence was still in her mind, but he was not responding. "Pezi, step out where you lost him. Nascha, track him," Cheveyo said.

The track was clear enough. Gosheven had had one attacker, who had dragged his body off with him. "Someone knocked him out." She blinked, and the track became clear. "It's Ituha, one of the skinwalkers. I'll follow."

Gosheven was no more than a few spiritworld steps away. He was on the ground, rousing from unconsciousness, surrounded by skinwalkers. All eight of them.

Nascha's heart thudded in her chest. Gosheven was spread-eagle on the ground, a skinwalker foot on each wrist and ankle. Chogan was standing by Gosheven's head. He was steady on his feet, though the tension around his mouth betrayed pain. "Cheveyo!" he shouted. "You have to be out there, Cheveyo."

She looked at Cheveyo and shook her head. He gave her a look that spoke of worlds of stubbornness. "He will die, if we don't do something," he said silently. "He will probably die anyway, but we should try. The others are too far to arrive soon."

Her mouth was so dry. She and Pezi were not strong fighters; Cheveyo was, but he was one man against eight. "They'll kill him as soon as you show your face. Eight of them, three of us. We could take a few of them with us, but that's it."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "How good a shot are you?"

"Pretty good. Not as good as Zotum yet, but he's been teaching me," she said. What was Cheveyo thinking?

"Think you can drop a shot to his heart that won't go through the ribs but pierce his clothes and skin to make it bleed?"

She gaped at him for an instant, and then looked at Gosheven, thinking about how to hit him. "I think so. Might kill him by accident."

"He's dead if we don't," he pointed out. She inclined her head, acknowledging. "They should drop to a defensive mode around the body looking out. Pezi, go in and get him. I will create a distraction to further draw their attention. This is crazy and it might not work, but I don't want to lose another one."

Nascha knew an order when she heard one. Without argument, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew her boy. setting herself and then dropping from spiritworld into the real world. She was there a bare instant, long enough to let the arrow fly, and then went back into spiritworld.

The sound of the arrow hitting the chest of her fellow spiritwalker was a thump the likes of which Nascha hoped never to hear again. Gosheven went limp; whether she had just killed him, she had no idea. What she did know was that Chogan and the other spiritwalkers looked stunned for a second and then, just as Cheveyo had predicted, dropped to a defensive position, looking out.

Pezi went, and Cheveyo stepped out of spiritworld. Aloud, he said, "Chogan. You are right, I am here."

The expression that spread across Chogan's face was not quite a smile. "Let me end this for you, Cheveyo. You are just losing your spiritwalkers over and over again. I could end it for you."

"Look again, Chogan," Cheveyo said, his tone low and lazy and as dangerous as a great cat. "Today it's you and not I that seem to be missing a spiritwalker."

Chogan turned to look behind him, and his eyes widened as he saw that Pezi had done his work. Gosheven was gone, and there was merely dust where he had been. He screamed a curse, flushing dark, and Cheveyo said silently, "Spiritworld and go."

They did so, moving quickly, losing the skinwalkers behind them, thankfully. Many miles away they stopped, coming out where Pezi had eased Gosheven off of his shoulders, a sheltered area behind a rock formation. Gosheven was alive, Nascha saw with relief. His side was covered in blood and the arrow stuck out of him still, but he was sitting up and quite awake.

Cheveyo knelt beside him and pulled the blood-soaked shirt away from Gosheven's wound. "Didn't even go through the ribcage, it's just stuck in the flesh," he reported. "Going to hurt to get out, though, Gosheven."

"I'm alive to hurt," Gosheven said, flashing Cheveyo a smile.

"True enough," Cheveyo said, returning his smile. "Let's get this arrow out."

Gosheven screamed when Cheveyo pushed the arrow the rest of the way through, broke off the head, and then pulled out the shaft. But the arrow came out cleanly and the wound was easily bandaged. Hania would look at him when they got back, clean and pack the wound. It would leave a pair of small scars when it healed, it looked like.

Once Gosheven had recovered, he said to Nascha, "Thanks. Thought I was dead for sure."

Nascha smiled. "Cheveyo came up with a crazy idea to save you."

The other man laughed briefly, then moaned as his breath caught. "Must have been, if you were shooting me with arrows."

"Made them think we'd just shot you, swiped you when they had their backs turned. Close call, still." She didn't like to think how close it had been. If she had gotten the angle even slightly wrong...

"Made them madder," Gosheven said.

She wrinkled her nose. "The alternative was losing you."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Glad you are crazy."

"Thank Cheveyo, not me," she told him, unwilling to say that her first instinct had been to leave Gosheven behind and go rescue her cousin, Nastas, and Isi from the Arapaho camp.

"Glad you are a good shot, then. Thanks, Cheveyo." He got to his feet, and they went back into spiritworld and kept moving.

After Gosheven had been seen to by Hania and sent off to go rest for the remainder of the day, Cheveyo say down cross-legged on the floor of the wickiup. Nascha sat next to him, leaned into him. Silently, only to her, he said, "Days like that, I wonder sometimes of leaving."

"Are all the choices so difficult?" she asked. "I can't imagine years of making these decisions."

He bent his head slightly. Right now, in the low light inside the wickiup, he looked tired, and older than he ought to for someone only a hundred and one seasons old. "Most days. Who lives, who dies."

Nascha breathed out, feeling a fragile question between them, one she hesitated to look at directly. "No wonder you think about leaving."

"It's gotten more tempting recently," he said, with half a smile.

She bent forward a bit, reached down and ran a finger on the top of her battered shoes. She had been wearing these the day her family had died. Her grandmother had made them. There were holes in the sides and the leather would soon be too thin to repair. "Well, I may have to leave, if Adoeete's orders clash with what I have to do," she said, her silent voice low and quiet. She didn't look at Cheveyo, but she knew he felt the question between them too.

She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder. "No, you won't. At least, not without me."

She glanced at him, saw that he was looking at her intently. She almost smiled. "I was thinking maybe you might come along, if I have to go. I don't want to, not yet."

"As long as you will have me, I would like to be with you." She felt no doubt in his words, no hesitation. Warmth rose in her, unexpected and entirely welcome.

"Good," she said, and slipped her hand into his. "I didn't want to assume."

He closed his fingers around hers, and in that motion was everything she needed to know.

With beauty before me may I walk.
With beauty behind me may I walk.
With beauty below me may I walk.
With beauty above me may I walk.
With beauty all around me may I walk.

In old age wandering on a trail of beauty,
lively, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty,
living again, may I walk.
My words will be beautiful.

--prayer attributed to the Navajo, unknown translator