Spiritwalkers

Nine: Deceiver

There was no sound other than the hooves and snorting of the horses. Nascha and the others were hidden around the camp, and Nascha had an excellent view of Chogan and the rest as they arrived. They had not expected to find the camp empty, and she could see them glancing at each other, their looks getting darker and darker.

They were ten with two unridden horses. Adoeete was not among them. Chogan was looking around, exasperated, and then nodded at one of the skinwalkers. The man who rode forward was almost as young as Wahcommo, on the small side, definitely new. He was careful, weaving his way past first one then two pit traps, but the third was before him now. "Pop up now and he will surge forward into that pit, it will kill the horse for sure, maybe not him," Shappa said silently.

Nascha nodded and readied her bow. She pushed into spiritworld, sidled a little forward, and then pushed back out, letting her arrow arch over the skinwalker's head.

The young man surged forward on his horse, and Nascha stepped back into spiritworld, snapping, "Delsin, keep them in the real!" Before her, she saw the sickening sight of the horse breaking through the cover over the third pit trap and pitching forward, eliciting a surprised scream from both skinwalker and horse as they went over. They rest had begun to come forward, but pulled up short as they saw the young one fall.

Arrows began to fly, and Nascha smiled, satisfied. She began to circle around them, dropping out when she saw an opening for a shot, the rest doing the same thing. They were not injuring most of them, just making them angry. Nascha had planned this encounter to last only moments, and soon enough she gave the order for them to retreat.

Chogan appeared to realize that they were leaving, and shouted, "Nascha! There will be no Navajo left when I am done."

She ground her teeth. "The rest of you, stay in spiritworld. Delsin, keep them from entering spiritworld." She dropped out before Chogan, braced to push back in the moment she saw any raise a bow to her, and stood considering the man who had taken her prisoner a lifetime ago. "You have no quarrel with them," she said, without a flicker of emotion.

He smiled slowly. "No, but I will not chase you into Cheveyo's trap. So I will kill everyone you love, slowly."

"You did that already," she said. "Besides. You seem to have left your tribe unprotected." She pushed into spiritworld, looking behind her to see if Chogan would take the bait.

The skinwalker grimaced briefly and then turned east, towards where the Navajo had gone. Several men split off to go lower ropes into the pit where the young one had fallen, but the rest were mounting, turning their horses.

She took a breath; she knew Cheveyo was watching. "I don't know if there's anything I can do here," she said to him. She was all out of ideas that didn't get either the people with her or the Navajo killed.

"He wants something," Cheveyo replied.

"Me, maybe," she said. "Suppose the only way to find out is to ask." Nascha sighed. "Wish me luck."

"Don't get killed," Cheveyo said.

She sent him the feeling of a determined smile in return, and said, "I'll try not to. Delsin, Wahcommo, Shappa, if I get killed, run." They nodded in return, and she stepped out of spiritworld near where the skinwalkers were gathered, pulling their youngest member out of the pit trap. The skinwalker's leg appeared to be broken.

"All right," she said, her voice clear and calm. "What is it you want?"

Chogan looked almost happy to hear her question. "Delsin."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what are you going to do to him?"

"What do you think?" Chogan snorted. "I will make it quick."

"The answer is no," she said, and it was almost a relief to be able to say it. "I won't give up one of my own to you."

The skinwalker chuckled. "You will allow hundreds to die to save one. I have need of another skinwalker. You would make a good one."

Nascha's chin raised slightly. "I have more morals than that. It's you who will be killing the innocents."

He was looking straight at her now, dark eyes burning. She had cause to think once again that he could have been handsome, if it weren't for the way his lip curled and the strange light in his eyes. "I am killing Navajo. They are not innocent. Worth less than a buffalo life."

Because you would thank the buffalo for giving his life so you could eat, and you would not accord my people the same prayers, she thought. "What, did the Navajo do something to you?" she asked, and to her amazement her voice was steady and strong, slightly disdainful.

"They are not Arapaho. We all act for our survival, preying on each other. In order to survive the whites we will need to be the strongest, therefore I need supplies to make our tribe stronger and stronger. The Navajo will die first. They believe in peace and talking out their problems." Nascha longed to beat the disdainful look off Chogan's face. "I just struck first, otherwise the Apache are no different than I am. They would be doing the same thing. Cheveyo only stops from killing the Navajo because he is fucking one."

That struck home, though she refused to allow him the satisfaction of seeing it. She narrowed her eyes. "Even if I gave you Delsin, I have no way of knowing you would leave these people alone."

"You have only my word, which I have never broken, for I give it very little. But for Delsin, I will give you my word that as long as I live, I will never take another Navajo life that doesn't attack me first."

She took a surprised breath. This is not a choice I ever wanted to make. To Cheveyo, she said, almost pleading, "I can't give Delsin to him."

"Honor above all else, that's the way of the Apache and his people," Cheveyo replied. "His word he will never break. Hundreds for one, and I couldn't do it either." That last was a rueful admission, and she swallowed. Cheveyo was not going to order her to do this; it would almost be easier if he had. There were still some things he could not take from her.

"Delsin is one of us, and spiritwalkers are not for sale. And I don't want to pose the question to Delsin, because I'm afraid he'd say yes," she said back to Cheveyo, deliberating, looking uncertain as Chogan and the other skinwalkers watched.

"He probably would," Cheveyo said, and then Nascha felt a hand on her shoulder.

It was Delsin.

First light of morning, please don't--

Delsin shook his head, looking into Nascha's eyes. "It's not your decision to make, this time."

Her silent voice was almost choked. "Delsin, no."

"We are spiritwalkers. If he asked for your life to save hundreds, what is your answer?"

"Yes, but these are my people. They aren't yours," she protested.

Incredibly, Delsin smiled. "But you are my sister, and it's important that your people live too. I died many years ago. You tried to give me my life back, but I am still just a ghost that breathes." His silent voice was clear and calm.

"We need you, she said. "I still think you could come back to life, Delsin."

There was no flicker of regret or hesitation in him. "My life is beyond this one. With my family, with my daughter. I will still see you, spiritwalker, beyond this world."

"Don't make me forbid you to do this," she said, her voice low.

He shook his head slightly. "You can't. You know that. Just say goodbye."

Nascha looked at him for a moment that seemed to span seasons, then took a breath. "I will miss you, Delsin."

Delsin did not smile now, though he was not faltering in his resolve. "I will miss you too, Nascha."

She took his free hand and squeezed it briefly. "You're right, this isn't my decision but yours."

He pulled her into a hug, then let her go. Nascha would remember the moment that he was no longer beside her for as long as she lived, the moment when the place he had been became cold. He walked toward Chogan, stopping about midway between Nascha and the skinwalker. "I have conditions," he said calmly.

"Name them," Chogan replied.

"I wish to die fighting you, one by one. I choose my opponents, until you are all dead or I am."

"Done," Chogan said, almost smiling.

Delsin's shoulders straightened. "If I die, I want Nascha to have the body intact, to burned as is my people's way. You will ride away today, leaving them unharmed. Tomorrow, you may try to kill her again. If you agree, then you will not attack another Navajo camp for as long as you live--and any other skinwalkers that you lead."

Chogan paused a long time, heartbeats lengthening into breaths. Finally, he nodded. "Done."

From where she stood, Nascha could not see Delsin's face. However, she heard the slight smile in his voice. "Good. I call broken leg with the hatchet first."

Chogan scowled, and then tightened his jaw. "Usti."

The young man paled, but struggled to his feet. He took what seemed like ages to hobble to Delsin, his broken leg almost useless. When the skinwalker reached Delsin, he promptly kicked the unfortunate Usti in the leg and buried his hatchet in his chest.

Usti went down without a cry.

Delsin bent to retrieve his weapon. He surveyed his opponents. Nascha's mouth was dry, her stomach roiling, pleading for this somehow not to be happening. Delsin pointed at another new skinwalker, this one lightly built, probably a scout of some sort. "That one."

Chogan said, "Gotara."

Gotara came forward smoothly, jaw tight. The two men were evenly matched, it seemed, and for long breaths they fought each other. It took what seemed like an eternity, and both men were injured badly, and then Gotara, tiring, made just the slightest misstep. Delsin, with long experience on his side, saw the opening even before Nascha did and took advantage, knocking Gotara to his face in the dirt and burying his hatchet in his back before the momentum of his strike took him to the ground as well.

Delsin struggled to his feet. Gotara shuddered and was still.

"That one," Delsin said, and pointed to a big man, one of the new ones still.

Nascha tensed. The end was coming. "Nashashuk," Chogan called, and the big man came forward.

Delsin attacked, but there was no opening, and Nashashuk parried his blow and took his hatchet to Delsin's neck. Delsin's eyes went wide and he went down, dead before he hit the bloodstained dirt.

Nascha stood, her hands fisted, first looking at Delsin's life spilled out on the ground and then at Chogan. She waited for the skinwalkers to leave. At this moment, she almost wanted him to break his word and attack. She might not be able to kill Chogan, but rage was choking her, and she desperately wanted to at least try.

But Chogan simply gave her a long look. Without another word, the skinwalkers picked up their dead and mounted up, turning north and away from the Navajo tracks. They left Delsin where he had fallen.

After they were out of sight, Nascha took a breath in through her nose. Rage still burned in her, but she was keeping it tightly locked down. "Shappa, help me carry Delsin's body," she said aloud. "We're leaving."

They loaded Delsin onto Wahcommo's horse, knowing that now the body was considered an object and no a person, and his horse would be able to transfer into spiritworld with the body. They gathered their things and stepped into spiritworld, heading back towards Cheveyo's half of the spiritwalkers.

When they arrived hours later, they said nothing, because all of them had been witness and there seemed to be nothing left to say. Nascha would not meet Cheveyo's eyes, dropping her gaze and looking away when he tried to get her attention.

They found wood, and built a platform to post Delsin's body to the stars. The structure seemed so fragile to Nascha as she sat beneath it, sunset turning the light that washed over them bloody.

Cheveyo let her brood for a day, and that night they slept apart from each other. The next morning, after a morning meal that Nascha did not partake in, Cheveyo came to sit next to her. "You going to talk ever again or not?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, and then gave him a slight smile. "This is the second time I've lost someone from a group I was leading. I know it's a risk we run, but...it's just hard."

He took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. The morning was cold, and his hand was warm. "Doesn't get easier. He died the way he wanted. He will be honored for it. I know that doesn't help, but..." He trailed off, looking at her.

Nascha shivered. "I know he did. I just wish he hadn't had to. I really hoped he'd finally find something to live for."

"He didn't, but he did find something to die for."

"The Navajo," she said, flinching. "My fault, in part."

Cheveyo shook his head. "Not your fault."

The bitterness rose in her, and before she could stop herself she said, "There are times when I think you ought to have left me to die. Not often, these days. But sometimes." She paused, sighed. "I'm sorry, Cheveyo. We've lost so many people, and it weighs on me. And I hate Chogan."

"So do I. And we will have him. I would say we could stop, but we can't. He won't let us." He tightened his hand, and leaned into her a bit. "But leave you to die, never. You may not have saved Delsin or given him a reason to live, but you did me." He released her hand only to put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She stiffened for a moment, and then gave up resistance. "Tell me about Delsin's death had he not been spiritwalker," Cheveyo said.

Nascha thought about that for a few moments. "He probably would have just wandered away one day, or stepped in front of an enemy when a raid came."

"Delsin died when his family did. His body just didn't agree. He would have spent a hundred and twenty seasons waiting, and that's what we would be saying over him. Tomorrow we say, he died saving hundreds of people." There was unmistakable pride in Cheveyo's voice.

Nascha's breath stopped for a moment, as if a hand had closed around her lungs. "A better death, and more meaningful," she said.

"We die saving lives, protecting our people. He did just that. He will be remembered as probably the greatest of us."

She rubbed her eyes, and nodded. "I can weave his story, as well."

"Take it to the Navajo, so they know," he said.

"I will." She took a breath, and looked at Cheveyo with a small smile. "I've been meaning to start the weaving. Tonight would be a good moment for it."

"And see if you can make another one of those," he said, pointing at the leather-wrapped blanket of Spider Woman.

Nascha laughed, just a little. "I don't think even my mother could weave one of those. But I'll try."

She went to get the loom and the wool, and Cheveyo sat with her that afternoon into the evening as she began to weave Delsin's story. The first bit of a weaving was the most difficult and the most important to get right, and Nascha made several false starts before the memory of her hands told her what to do.

She came to Cheveyo that night, and though they did not make love to one another, they did hold each other through the long sleepless hours. They next day, they did the burning ceremony.

Looking around the circle of her brothers and sisters, it struck her how few of them there were, and how oddly matched. Cheveyo, Ahiga and Shappa, of course, were fine fighters. Wahcommo's gift for the horses was unparalleled, but he was smaller even than Nascha and he was good only with a bow, not with a hatchet. Hakan was good with hatchet, knife, and bow, but his true gift was the rage that could ignite him and that he kept so tightly locked down.

Then there was Aquene, and her strange gift that was paid for with a near-uselessness on the field of battle. They were up against foes that it was going to be impossible to outfight, so they were going to have to outthink, outmaneuver, and probably in the end outrun them.

Delsin had died to protect Nascha's birth tribe, and in so doing had likely given them the opening they would need to attack. For what Nascha had told Chogan was true. He was leaving his tribe unprotected, and if he did not fall back soon to do so, they would be teaching him a lesson about responsibility.

Nascha went to bed that night with half-formed plans in her head. The next morning, when the stars above were beginning to flicker out one by one, Cheveyo woke her. "Time to get up, love," he said. "We need to go back to the arch and the pillar."

"Spider Woman calling you?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Yes," he murmured against her lips, and then kissed her back. "And as much as I would like to continue this, she is insistent."

"Hmph," she said. "Just us two?"

"Let them sleep. I don't think they need to come. Chogan is south and east and this is north. Go tell Ahiga. I will pack a few things, I am hungry."

And if this time was anything like last, they were likely to spend the whole day at the arch. She kissed him again and went to go wake Ahiga and tell him where they were going. She picked up weapons and Spider Woman's blanket, and Cheveyo packed his own weapons and food for them both. They ate while walking through spiritworld to the arch.

When they arrived, Nascha frowned. The pillar that had been in the shape of a woman with a pot was different, now. They were still in spiritworld, assuming that the goddess would come talk to them as she had done before.

The pillar now had two large, pricked ears and a long and finely tapered muzzle, and the body distinctly resembled a coyote walking on two legs. Uncertainly, Nascha asked, "Um, Cheveyo, did the call feel different this time?"

"I was half asleep. I didn't notice," Cheveyo said. Both of them started as the statue moved, and the form of Coyote came clear.

"Greetings, Coyote," she said.

The Father of Foolishness, Giver of the Lesson, the god who made nothing and everything, closed one eye and looked at them. He tilted his head, closed that eye and opened the closed, and looked at them again. "Hmm. Well, greetings." His voice was deep and raspy, rough as the surface of a broken stone. "I see you have Spider Woman's gift. So it's my turn, such as her arm twisting has made it."

"She's making you do something?" Nascha asked.

Coyote chuckled, and in his laugh was echoes of song. "Only because I want something."

Nascha cocked her head. Coyote was, in all the stories, tricky but largely benevolent, and questions were often answered. "Dare I ask what that is?"

"Best not to, but it will be pleasurable." Coyote's mouth hung open in a brief grin. "But you will be helping me too, in a way. So it works out." Behind him, the air in the arch shimmered and showed them a picture like the ones that Nascha saw in the blanket. It was a coyote--a huge one, the size of an overgrown timber wolf. His muzzle was grizzled and grey. "That one is getting old, and I need a new one." He chuckled again at their puzzled looks. "That was a man. Once. He is old now and I need a new strong man to lead my pack. Find him, kill him, skin him and make someone wear the skin."

Nascha's mind was racing. "So we need to find that coyote, and a volunteer to become him. Where should we look for the coyote?"

Coyote's chuckle became a skirling laugh. "Who said anything about a volunteer? Force them, trick them even better. South of here, in the black mountains. Person that puts that on will never remember their old life and will have no ties to man."

She sucked in a breath, understanding, then smiled. "I think I know some people who would be perfect."

"Thought you might. Now you can go. And remember he bites." Coyote's voice rang in the sudden silence that followed, as his form became stone once more and the air in the arch ceased to shimmer.

Into the silence and emptiness, Nascha said, "Well, we have a coyote to hunt down, it looks like." She took Cheveyo's hand, feeling the calluses on his fingers rub against her own.

Cheveyo looked almost bemused. "And a skinwalker to trick into wearing it."

"I have a few ideas. Spider Woman's gift will help."

He smiled, and Nascha, startled, thought she could see a little of Coyote's smile in his eyes. "Not Chogan, though. I want him to wonder how we did it."

Nascha grinned at him, a strange feeling of delight bubbling up in her, like a newfound spring. "And wonder if we can do it again."

"I think Coyote might not be so forgiving if we did."

She snorted. "No, I don't think so. But I also think that it might make Chogan have second thoughts about taking on a skin." She tipped her head back, looking at the sky that in spiritworld was always a silvery blue, unmarked by cloud or star. "Personally, I'd like to cause Chogan all manner of doubt."

"Me too," he said, and she felt his grip on her hand tighten as he pushed from spiritworld into the real world, bringing her with him. He released her hand only to put a hand on her shoulder and turn her so she was facing him. "Now, about that kiss this morning."

"You mean this one?" she asked, and raised herself to the balls of her feet to kiss him quite sincerely. She closed her eyes with the force and the pleasure of that kiss.

"Yes," he said, after they had parted. "And this one--" He kissed the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear-- "And this one--" he opened her shirt and bent to kiss her collarbone-- "And this one--" the shirt was unlaced a bit and he kissed the valley between her breasts--

They sought what shade there was soon after, and spent some time with each other. The sorrow that had dogged Nascha since Delsin had died did not fall away, but no longer was it a darkness lurking between her and Cheveyo. She drank in the pleasure Cheveyo offered, and offered her own, and in the house of the winds and the stones where they were alone together, there was beauty.

They returned to the others briefly to explain what they were doing. Hakan and Ahiga volunteered to come along; Nascha saw Shappa waver and then glance at Aquene. "Stay with the horses," she told him, her silent voice directed only to him. "We'll be four and three, then. Wahcommo and Aquene need someone with a good hatchet hand around, after all."

Shappa's smile told her that he knew what she was doing, and that he appreciated it. "Maybe I can make my case to her better while you're gone. She took Delsin's death hard. But she won't let me close enough to comfort her."

"Because she knows damn well what it is you want from her, you rogue," Nascha said, and flashed him a quick grin. Then her mouth softened. "Aquene's been hurt. You know that as well as I."

He nodded gently. "For her, I will have endless patience. But that doesn't stop me from offering what comfort I can."

Nascha smiled and came over to give the lean warrior a quick hug. "Well, good luck. I'll see you when I get back."

As she stepped away from Shappa, she felt Aquene's amused look rather than saw it. "You encourage him," her fellow spiritwalker said.

Nascha wrinkled her nose at Aquene. "No, you encourage him. I've seen how you look at him when you think he's not looking, sister. One of these days, you're going to need to stop eavesdropping on me and Cheveyo and start having the experience yourself."

Aquene laughed aloud, causing Shappa to look curiously over at the two of them. Her eyes were dancing. "It's nice to be pursued, sometimes. Shappa makes me feel like..." She trailed off, the light in her eyes dying.

"Like what?"

"Desirable. Beautiful. I didn't think I'd ever feel that way again, after my husband died." Aquene looked down, and Nascha held her breath. Aquene rarely mentioned her husband. "But when I try to answer his desire I..." She shook her head. "I've lost so many people. It's hard to get too close to someone, knowing that he or I could die any day."

"I know," Nascha said. "I decided to take the chance. It's a frightening one. Still."

"I feel it in you, sometimes." Aquene smiled slightly. "Go on, Nascha. Go hunt Coyote's chosen. We will be here when you return." She came to Nascha and hugged her, and Nascha gave her fellow spiritwalker a kiss on the cheek, suddenly profoundly grateful for her presence.

Then they were packing for a hunt, and slipped into spiritworld to head for the black mountains.

The hills they came to were dark and jagged, peaks thrust like teeth into the sky. Tracking a single animal, in terrain that afforded an infinity of secret pathways and hiding-holes, proved to be difficult even for spiritwalkers. The first and second days proved fruitless as they walked a snail-shell pattern.

But at sunset the third day, when Nascha's head hurt from using her tracking ability for what seemed like eternities at once, they came across a single footprint. It was a coyote's track as big as a horse's hoof.

They had found Coyote's chosen.

Finding his trail and finding him were two different things, however. They slept that night and started following his trail once it was light enough to see again. For two more days they followed the coyote and the large pack he had with him, slowly gaining ground. They heard the songs of the pack at night, now.

They stopped to rest in the middle of the second day, to drink water and sit for a while. She was sitting with her back against Cheveyo's, her head hanging. She was exhausted; she knew now how Delsin had felt when they had run from the skinwalkers and he'd had to use his talent for days straight.

There was movement out of the corner of her eye, and she raised her head.

A pair of yellow eyes looked into hers, locking her gaze with their own.

It was the chosen, the same grizzled muzzle and huge body she had seen in the arch's picture. Behind him were rustlings, smaller coyotes moving around in the brush.

There was only that moment before the chosen whirled and disappeared into the brush, loping away. Nascha stood, and Cheveyo was not far behind her. "He knows we're following, now," she said. "Let's go."

It was another day before they saw him again, Nascha having to step in and out of spiritworld to track him. He was canny, using the bare stone of these mountains to his advantage as much as possible. He seemed to be lagging behind the pack he had with him, and from Nascha's tracking she could see that he probably had joints that were bothering him.

They cornered the chosen on the edge of a cliff, Nascha remembering Coyote's warning that he bit. She assumed that he would go after her as the weak spot, and so they were in a closing line, Nascha with Ahiga and Cheveyo to either side of her, Hakan on Cheveyo's other side.

The chosen was snarling, his voice a lot more like a wolf's than a coyote's, and all around them were the cacophonous songs of the pack. Nascha stepped forward. "Make him come to us--"

The chosen charged.

Nascha sent her hatchet spinning at him but he was far too fast, and the chosen rushed by her, snapping at her as he went. Ahiga was faster, though, and his spear went into the chosen's side.

Momentum carried the huge coyote another body length before he collapsed to the ground, shuddered, and died. All around them was the singing of the coyotes, almost deafening. "Let's take the body and go," Cheveyo muttered, looking unsettled.

Nascha and Ahiga lifted the body between them and they pushed into spiritworld. A few miles later, they set to skinning the body, being careful to get all of it that they could. The rest of the body, they left for the land to take care of.

As they started towards the others, Nascha found herself wondering who the man had been who had worn that skin. Another skinwalker, she assumed. It was the sort of trick Coyote loved to play on people.

Getting back to the others took the rest of the day and into the night. Once they were back, Nascha went off with Spider Woman's blanket to watch the skinwalkers for a while. She had a plan furled in her tightly as a drought flower. It needed water to make it open so she could see it, and in this case water would be information.

She saw the skinwalkers; they were relatively close to the Arapaho camp, though whether going back or leaving again she couldn't tell. She watched as they took their skins, weaving in and out of spiritworld, silent.

Two seemed to habitually use coyote skins--Chunta, and Eyanosa. Eyanosa was a large man, and it would probably be easiest for him to mistake the chosen's skin for one of his own. Eyanosa also seemed to truly prefer the coyote skin to any other.

"What are you thinking, love?" Cheveyo asked. "Because you're surely thinking very loudly."

She looked up to see him sitting on a rock nearby. She exhaled and folded the blanket up on her lap, stretching out her legs. "Sneak in, replace the skin, cause a disturbance that will make them jump into spiritworld. Maybe an attack on the main Arapaho camp. Eyanosa, in a hurry, doesn't really look at the coyote skin before he pulls it on, and we run."

Cheveyo came to sit by her, his face thoughtful. "It's a solid plan, I think. "

"So, who, is the question. Wahcommo? He could get away the quickest. Whoever goes in, if they're caught, they're dead or worse."

He let out a long breath. "He is small and quick and can get back on his horse and be gone. He makes the most sense, but he is the youngest by far, and this would be his first mission alone. He screws up and Eyanosa won't take an eyeblink to kill him."

Nascha inclined her head. "I know. He might be young, but he's still a full spiritwalker. If he survives, I think it'll be good for him to have done it."

"It will be. What's your confidence level on him doing it?" he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. "Pretty high, especially if we choose the timing wisely. But timing can be the downfall of any of us, so that's nothing new. Wahcommo feels like he's got something to prove, is my only worry. He might not run if running turns out to be prudent." She smiled, and reached down to rub her knee. "Then again, some of us have to learn that lesson the hard way. Like me and Skah."

"Yes, you should have pulled out of there much sooner than you did." He smiled briefly; it was the first time he'd even slightly criticized her actions that day. Nascha assumed it was because her injury had been lesson enough. "Let's talk to him."

"Wahcommo, we have a mission you may be suited for," she said to the young spiritwalker. "Could you come over here?"

The young man bounded over to them, abrupt excitement shining on his face. "Really?" he asked, a bit breathlessly.

"Really. But like anything else we do, if you mess up or get unlucky, you may be killed. We need to swap our coyote skin for one of the skinwalkers', and we need someone to sneak in and do that."

Wahcommo grinned. He was no larger than he had been when he had joined them, but his restless energy had been poured into training, and being the only one who could work with the horses as he did had made him walk taller. Like the rest of them, the training had left its mark on him; he had been lean to begin with, and now he was muscled like a young stallion, with the same long-legged way of moving. "I can do that," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Where am I sneaking into?"

"That's the hard part. The skinwalker camp." Nascha took a breath. "If all goes as planned, you'll get in and make the swap. The rest of us will attack the main Arapaho camp, which should send the skinwalkers into spiritworld quickly. Eyanosa, the target, hopefully won't check his skin before he puts it on. You get clear, and the rest of us fight them as we have to and retreat."

He nodded vigorously. "All right. When?"

"Soon. Maybe tonight. We need to do this while they're still near the Arapaho camp. We have the advantage that we can watch them from a distance and make sure the opening is good."

"Anytime. I am ready," he said, eagerness undisguised in his voice.

Cheveyo chuckled silently, and said so only Nascha could hear, "Way too young."

She glanced at him. "I know. He's still the best person we have for this. I wish Gosheven were still with us."

"I know, I wish a lot them were still with us." There was an ache in Cheveyo's voice.

But Wahcommo was looking at Nascha like she was the only thing in the world that mattered right now. "I will tell you this only once, Wahcommo, and please take it in the spirit it's meant," she said to him. "If the timing's not right, if you think you're about to be discovered, don't push this one. We can have more than one chance for it if we play it right. Pushing it will get you killed, or worse than killed." She rubbed the knee Skah had broken a season before again. "Me getting my knee and ribs broken, that was the result of pushing it, and I could very easily have lost my life or have been captured."

"I know, I will be careful." Nascha nodded and Wahcommo ran off, presumably to tell the others that he was going on his first solo mission soon. Nascha shook her head as she watched him go.

"You know why Delsin, don't you?" Cheveyo asked her after Wahcommo was gone.

She let out a long breath and leaned against the rock to her back. "Why they killed him? So he couldn't turn off their abilities. We still don't know what all of them can do."

Cheveyo was still looking in the direction Wahcommo had left in. "Who do you think gave them that information?"

She twisted her mouth. It always came down to betrayal, didn't it? "Adoeete. They'll know about Wahcommo and what he can do, too."

"Delsin they have had firsthand experience but with the exception of Hakan and Shappa, they know what we can do. I think they will be prepared. They will at least know our strengths and weaknesses. One thing they don't know is the blanket."

Nascha nodded. "Yes. We can watch them, make sure we know where the opening is. But if they see Wahcommo, they'll know his weakness is that his horse can be killed."

"And then he can be caught," he said. "I hate to say this, but one of us should watch him in case he gets in trouble, and be closer than Arapaho camp."

"Likely. Who, though? If we're going to make a dent in the Arapaho, we want most of the good fighters there." She pursed her lips, thinking. "I could go with him. You're not likely to need me at the other camp."

"Me or you is my suggestion," he said with a brief smile. "We are the only ones that have seen things in the blanket."

"True. I've spent enough time watching them, I'll know if something goes wrong the moment it does, and I can keep an eye on him with the blanket," she said.

Cheveyo's dark eyes were worried. "If you are willing to stay? Otherwise, I will."

"I'm willing. Though if something serious goes wrong, I may have to try to hold them off and yell for help."

He leaned against her shoulder. "If something seriously goes wrong, try to get him out before he dies and run. Don't pull a Skah."

Her knee twinged. No, she had learned the price of foolish pride and blind rage very well indeed. "I won't. I learned my lesson on that one." She scooted a bit closer and kissed his cheek, and then his lips. "I will be careful. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that," he said with a smile. "Want to see if we're going to have an opening tonight?"

She did, and it looked like late that night was going to be their chance. The skinwalkers had bothered to put up tents, and Nascha watched until she was sure which one was Eyanosa's. She briefed Wahcommo and gave him the skin, which she saw him bear as if it were a sacred object.

She and Wahcommo split off to the skinwalker camp while the rest went to the Arapaho camp. She settled down with the blanket outside the camp and watched.

Wahcommo rode in spiritworld to about five spiritworld steps from Eyanosa's tent. He told his horse to stay, and then dismounted and stepped forward, right into Eyanosa's tent.

Less than a minute later, he stepped out with another skin, this one much smaller. "Eyanosa snores," he said to them all, sounding satisfied as he mounted his horse. "You can attack."

"Wahcommo, get a little farther away. I need to give them a reason to suspect something's wrong," she told him. Wahcommo did so, and she stepped through spiritworld to a place on the hillside near where the skinwalker Halian kept watch. She crouched in the shadow of a stone, and then, very deliberately, moved and let loose rocks slide away under her feet.

Halian's head swiveled around, and she made a choked noise, standing briefly and taking two steps in the real world before pushing into spiritworld. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Halian pulling on his own favorite skin, that of an eagle, and heard him calling.

She ran, and soon the skinwalkers were on her heels. Not far from the camp, she reached Wahcommo. "Let's go," she said.

The young spiritwalker, beaming with pride, followed orders precisely. They traveled hard that night, and when Nascha looked for Eyanosa in the blanket that morning, she saw a huge coyote--even bigger than the last one--loping with the golden light of sunrise on his shoulders.

Cheveyo told her that they had killed about eight warriors of the Arapaho; not enough to make a dent in their numbers, but a good number for how much time they'd had. They were back at the horses now, and Wahcommo, still proud of himself, volunteered to take a scouting run.

He went out quite a bit wider than the rest of them could manage. When the sun stood high in the sky, he reported, "I found something. Spanish."

Through his eyes, they could see a large group of Spanish. They were in the territory that was shared by the Apache and Navajo, heading north and deeper into the territory.

"Mark where they are and come back, Wahcommo," Cheveyo said. They heard agreement from the young spiritwalker, and Cheveyo turned to Nascha, eyebrow raised.

"Those should probably be either killed or diverted," she said to him alone.

He nodded in agreement. "Or killed by the Arapaho to make a split in their alliance."

"How do we convince them that it's the Arapaho? We could dress like them, I suppose," she mused.

"Chogan will convince them it was us quickly. We have already attacked them once. Which I am sure was blamed on us, since we did it," he said with a wry smile. "This group is probably bringing more weapons and supplies for them."

"Well, there's a good reason for an attack--the Arapaho could have changed their mind about the alliance, and attacked for the weapons and supplies. If we could pose as them--hm. We know what their paint patterns look like. I wonder if the Spanish would recognize them."

Cheveyo shook his head. "It's possible, but unless we really can become them, Chogan will argue his way out of it."

"You know, it would almost be easier to make Chogan believe that the Spanish have decided to back out of the alliance. Chogan's not really so much of a thinker," she said, musing.

"How would you do that?" he asked.

"Like I said, it would only almost be easier. The only things I can think of are somehow diverting them so they don't show up where they're supposed to be, somehow convincing one to open fire on the skinwalkers when they see them, or making our own alliance with them. Which is not a prospect I favor."

"Without a way to impersonate them, none of the other options are very likely," he said. "So the only thing I can think of is to go back to the arch and hope we can ask the gods for help. It's got to be worth the try anyway."

But would they help? "The skinwalkers have an advantage on us here. They can pose as some of those of us who are dead, but we have no way of doing so."

Cheveyo nodded. "Let's go back in the morning. Tonight, we have better things to do."

Nascha smiled and snagged his hand, pulling him close. "Yes, we do," she said, and kissed him soundly. "We're alive, as unlikely as that is."

"We have gotten lucky so far, some of the rest of us not so much," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair, escaped from her braid, behind her ear. "But that is our life. We are spiritwalkers, and there are no old spiritwalkers."

"I know. I sometimes wish it were otherwise, but...I knew before I became one of you that I'm unlikely to see old age, or even live long enough to have my own children." There was true regret in her voice. She had given up the idea of having children when she had seen Tse fall to Chogan's hatchet; now, married again, instead of working on having children, she was preventing them to keep her belly flat and her feet light. She tried not to think about it, tried not to imagine what her children and Cheveyo's might look like, be like.

There was a solemn note in Cheveyo's voice that told her that her regret was clearly visible on her face. "Even Adoeete, who thinks he is safe, won't be."

She closed her eyes briefly, heart twisting. "No, he won't. He'll have to be the last one we take on, I think, if any of us are left at that point."

"Unless he makes a mistake first. Which he might."

"He was doing a lot of talking, last I saw him in the blanket. Maybe we'll get lucky and people will start wondering why he's so angry about you," she said.

"Being a skinwalker changes you, not for the better. His words and actions will start to make him more enemies. Enough about the future, though." He started pulling Nascha's shirt open, and she slipped out of the soft leather as he pulled it over her head. "It's just about us, now."

"Good," she said softly, and they were swiftly out of their clothing and making love, a fierce hunger overtaking both of them. It was often like this after battle, when the fact that both of their hearts still beat seemed a gift from the spirits.

The next morning, Nascha and Cheveyo left for the arch once more. This time, when they arrived, the stone was strange. The muzzle of the coyote was becoming a sharp beak, the head widening, the whole body becoming more birdlike than canine. "That's a little strange," Nascha said.

"It is, it's like it is changing, very slowly." Cheveyo was staring at the stone, fascinated.

She quirked her mouth. "Well, it's stone. Change is probably difficult for it. But I think I know who we may speak to."

"Let's step into spiritworld and find out who is there," Cheveyo said, and she nodded and they both did so.

On the spiritworld side, the stone looked quite a bit more like a raven, and a few heartbeats after they arrived the stone shook itself, becoming glossy black and feathered, a raven taller than a man. It shook all of its feathers into place and fixed them with a sharp glare.

Raven was another one of the unpredictable ones, and far less instructively foolish than Coyote. Raven was smart and he knew it. "Greetings, Raven," she said to him, making her tone as respectful as possible.

He turned his head sideways. "A bit early, but that's fine."

Nascha blinked. "Early?"

"Yes, early. Do you have them?"

She was feeling distinctly slow. "Do I have what, exactly?"

Raven clacked his beak and gave a croak of displeasure. "That's why you are early, you don't have them. The skins."

"We didn't know we were supposed to bring skins. What skins do you need?"

"Any will do, but ones that your enemies have worn are best."

She was still feeling slow, but was also starting to suspect that this was how Raven wanted her to feel. "How many do you need? And what will they be used for?"

"One for all that are going with you and one for all the horses that you are taking. They will be used to make you look like your enemies for a time." He spread his wings and then settled them impatiently. "That is what you want, yes?"

She remembered at the last moment not to gape. "Yes, it is."

"Then go back and do it."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. "Thank you, Raven." She stepped out of spiritworld, and Cheveyo was right on her heels. Her mind was working furiously.

"That was useful," he said. "Any idea how to steal skins from the skinwalkers?"

"Working on it. To be honest, the easiest target is Adoeete, but he likely doesn't have enough skins yet. If they're in the Arapaho camp at the moment, we're going to have to get in there and steal them." She shook her head. "That isn't likely to be easy."

His voice was thoughtful. "Which, if we wait, they will leave the main camp sooner or later on some mission. We can get in and out with some of their reserve skins."

"We may have to wait a bit, but that would be a lot easier," she said.

"Time to move the horses closer and watch in the blanket to see when they leave. Then back here to let Raven do his thing, and hopefully to intercept the Spanish before Chogan shows up."

She frowned, thinking of all the pieces that had to work together on this one. "The timing may get tricky on this one."

"It might, depends on when they move."

She shook her head. "It will, and whether we can convince them to move any quicker."

Cheveyo raised his silent voice to include everyone. "Ahiga, move the horses east toward the main Arapaho camps." He dropped his voice again, so he was speaking only to her. "Let's wait for a few days, we have some time. I think fooling him once was inspired," and here he smiled at her, "but twice, he might not take the bait."

"I think so. If I were him, I'd be very wary of anything involving following us right now." She smiled briefly.

"If he doesn't, we'll think of something," he said. He pulled her close, sliding his hands up the back of her shirt, along her skin. She leaned into him, very willing to let him distract her for a little while. She had no idea how long she had left with him, if she was going to lose him next time they battled, or he her. Every moment she could steal with him seemed precious as water.

They headed back to the rest once they had slaked their thirst for the moment, and started riding south, towards the Arapaho camp. Nascha stopped often to check the blanket, but for the first few days it seemed as though the elders had Chogan on a very short rope. They were rained on for most of those three days, the horses slipping and sliding in mud; this happened sometimes in the spring. It was a somewhat welcome change from the endless cold of winter and the heat of summer, which would be upon them before they knew it.

The morning of the fourth day, something new happened. She saw Chogan and six other skinwalkers leaving the camp. Adoeete was at the Apache camp, so they were leaving no one behind. They were heading north, and would probably come into contact with the Spanish after a day of traveling or so.

"Eight skins," she murmured to Cheveyo. "I don't think we could get enough skins for all seven of us and our horses, but we can get enough for four."

"Who do you think we should hit?" he asked.

She had been considering this question for three days. "Chogan likely has nobody in his tent except his newest wife, if he hasn't killed her yet," she said. "Wattan, Nashashuk, and Kohana are the other easy ones." All three of those were new, and none of them had wives or even much family. She had learned Nashashuk's name the day Delsin had died, but the other two were the result of listening with the blanket.

Cheveyo nodded, and he, she, Shappa, and Wahcommo went to steal some skins. It was easy to do so, and once they had the skins they went back to the rest.

Before they left, though, Nascha spent some time looking around the Arapaho camp, trying to find the girl she had seen him steal from the Sioux raid she'd witnessed. She wasn't there. Either she was dead, or she'd escaped.

Curious, once they were back at camp she took a moment to look for the girl in the blanket. The blanket took a moment and then showed her the picture--she had her wrists tied together, and she was being dragged behind a horse.

Chogan's horse.

The girl was covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts, some of which were bleeding freely. She was unlikely to live out the day, and if she did, another day of riding would do her in. Fury shook Nascha, throwing her out of the blanket's vision and fisting her hands tight. Was this what had happened to his other wives? Or had he simply gotten bored of beating them to death and decided to try torture?

She swallowed. She couldn't go after the girl; Pezi could get her, but Nascha could not. It was as much as Nascha's life was worth to rescue this girl, and she bent forward, feeling rage choking her and tears starting in her eyes.

Cheveyo was there, and laid a light hand on her shoulder. "Tonight, maybe. Seven to seven as we are, they have the advantage," he said. "Let's go to Raven, we will kill these and avenge her for it."

Nascha was still shaking, but she wiped her eyes. "I think so. One of these days, I'll stop Chogan from doing this forever. Because even if we save this one, there's always the next girl."

"Yes, I hope his time of breathing is coming to an end." He squeezed her shoulder. "Join me at the arch."

She nodded, and they were off. Soon enough they were both at the arch, in spiritworld, watching the stone wake up. "We brought the skins, this time," she said.

Raven clacked his beak. "Good. Place them on the ground."

Nascha set them on the ground in front of him, and took a few steps back. The skins were tumbled together--deer and fox and hawk and rabbit, and more besides. The god looked at the skins, and extended a wing to sweep the feathers over the skins. They glowed briefly. "You will look like them for a few hours, use it wisely," Raven said.

Nascha stooped the pick up the skins, and Cheveyo bent to help. "Thank you, Raven," she said once she was upright and settling half the skins on her arms.

Raven cocked his head. "Good luck."

"We may need it," she said, and smiled at the god.

"You will," he said, and turned to stone.

Nascha looked at Cheveyo. "Back to the others? Time's short."

"It is," he said, and they turned to go to the others.

Cheveyo was silent as they moved through spiritworld, except for occasionally trying out an idea or two on Nascha. By the time they got back, they had put together a plan. "Ahiga, Shappa, Nascha and I will go," he told the group. He was handing out skins; Nascha recognized the two she was given as from Wattan's tent. "We want survivors, so take out the leaders, the rest will run home. Make sure they get a good look at you. We are going to ride into camp and ask for a meeting with them in a tent." He twisted his mouth. "There we will slaughter their leaders, mount up and ride out. There is a good possibility of injury, and maybe death, but we have to get them all."

There were nods all around, and Cheveyo turned to Aquene. "The rest of you, stay close but out of sight. Run if something goes wrong." Aquene nodded, paling slightly. If Cheveyo, Nascha, and Ahiga, all died, she was the next in line for leadership.

We will just have to not die, Nascha told herself. Then it was time to put on the skins. Cheveyo had chosen Chogan's, and his beloved face changing to become that of a man she hated was a sight to haunt her dreams. She swallowed her rising gorge and swung her arms a bit, trying to get used to a body that felt a bit different.

They rode hard, arriving at the Spanish camp, riding right in as if they had every right to be there. Cheveyo as Chogan spoke to a few people, all of them feeling tense but trying their best not to show it. Nascha fought to keep the disturbance that kept rising in her as she heard Chogan's voice from showing on her face and in her body.

They were passed through the camp to the tent where the four leaders awaited. They started talking about guns and the location of various camps, and all the while the four of them were picking their targets. Nascha's target was a thin, nervous man who seemed to be very uncomfortable in their presence, with a big moustache.

Chogan nodded, and all four of them struck at once, and the four Spanish leaders died silently, their throats cut. They lowered their victims to the floor gently. "Clean your weapons on them. Move out slowly until you hear the first shout and then run," Cheveyo said.

Nascha was already wiping her knife on the thin man's shirt. Slowly, they walked out, as if they had just concluded their business, mounted up, and rode through the camp. The men parted for them, and Nascha tried to make her face and her gaze hard as stone.

They were at the edge of the camp when they heard a man scream behind them, and they leaned forward as the horses surged. Under her, Una seemed to relish the run, stretching into swiftness, Nascha's heart beating an exultant tattoo.

The Spanish were slow to react, and though there were more than a few guns fired their way, they were bad shots and were very quickly left behind. They angled away in a direction that Chogan's people weren't coming from, and met up with the rest. As they dropped to a walking pace, letting the blowing horses rest, Nascha pulled out the blanket and lost herself in it, letting Una follow the others.

She could see the chaos in the Spanish camp. Some had attempted to follow them, but had turned back. Others took off south immediately, frightened. Eventually, most did start south, back towards the main body of the army. She thought of the girl that Chogan had been dragging, and with a sick feeling in her stomach saw an image of her lying on her back, not breathing, flies crawling on her open eyes and in and out of her mouth. The rope had been untied from her wrists and the skinwalkers had simply left her, probably wherever they had noticed that she had died.

It took Nascha some time to let the rage calm, after that. She retreated into silence, twining her fingers in Una's mane, holding tight.

Two hours later, the skins dropped from those who were wearing them, falling to the ground and smelling of rot, steaming. Nascha shuddered, watching, and then glanced at Cheveyo, his face his own and not Chogan's once more. Still, she couldn't shake the memory of his face changing into Chogan's, and she looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shoulders sag, but he neither spoke to her nor came over to see how she was.

It was work well done, and the mood around the small, hidden fire they built that night was well-pleased. Nascha saw Aquene sit next to Shappa, and when he tentatively put an arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him. Both of them laughed a little at some silent jest.

She went to Cheveyo then, sitting beside him, reaching for his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, though she had no words for what she was apologizing for.

He closed his hand on hers. "Every gift has a price," he said. "I just hope..." He trailed off.

Nascha smiled and leaned into him. "I will be all right. We will be all right." Something tight around her heart was unwinding. "It's memories, is all."

"I know," he said, and his tense body relaxed. When they went to their blankets that night, after setting watches, they were very gentle with one another.

Nascha's dreams were dark and confused, but she had expected that. What she hadn't expected was that Cheveyo would wake her, trapped in a dream of his own, thrashing and sweating. She sat up, catching his shoulder and shaking it. "Love, are you all right?"

He came awake with a gasp, abruptly sitting up. "Not sure. Dream or vision, I am not sure. Where is Wahcommo?"

Nascha looked around wildly, feeling for the young spiritwalker. He was laying on his blankets, writhing silently, encased in some sort of black vapor. She gasped and scrambled to her feet, grabbing her knife. "What on earth?"

"Not dream," she heard Cheveyo say as she stumbled to Wahcommo. The young spiritwalker was gasping for breath. "Hakan, make the fire stronger." Hakan woke, got up, reached for the sticks they had been feeding the fire--

"NO! Make it bigger, concentrate!" She felt a shudder of shock go through the spiritwalker bond, and then the fire behind Nascha sputtered and flared into life, casting sharp shadows over everything. Wahcommo thrashed as Nascha knelt to look at him.

She pushed into spiritworld, thinking she might find the culprit nearby. Wattan was sitting next to Wahcommo, chanting. Without thinking, she threw herself at Wattan, hitting him hard enough to throw them both out of spiritworld. "Kill me and he dies for sure," the skinwalker said, and in his voice she heard both fear and triumph.

Her knife was at his throat before she was conscious of pulling it. "He dies and you die."

There was a laugh to her left, and Chogan stepped out of spiritworld. "Stalemate." His features were thrown into flatness by the roaring light of the fire. "You kill him, your boy dies." He was staring at her over Wattan's shoulder, the light in his eyes feverish.

Nascha spat, "I suppose you want something, Chogan."

"Not today, we have played this game enough." Her skin prickled as she realized that they were surrounded by skinwalkers, stepping out of spiritworld. "Kill them all." Arrows were nocked swiftly, and the sound of bowstrings stretching came from everywhere.

Her knife was already slashing through the skin and muscle of Wattan's throat when she heard Cheveyo say, "Nascha, do it and run!"

She did not spare a glance for Wahcommo as she pushed into spiritworld and began to run even as her body uncoiled from its crouch. The rest were not far behind. Arrows started flying in spiritworld, and in those first few heartbeats of flight, Nascha heard Shappa cry out. He was broadcasting as he fell out of spiritworld--there were three on him. Aquene stopped, turning, looking.

No. "Aquene, can you calm all three?" she asked.

"I don't know," she said, but stepped out of spiritworld to try. Nascha stepped back to hover nearby, watching. Shappa was bleeding hard from several deep cuts, but still up. Two of the skinwalkers were standing, looking confused, but Ituha was fighting still, only slower.

Nascha stepped out of spiritworld and bashed Ituha in the back of the head with the pommel of her knife. She was not looking to kill him, only distract him--which worked all too well. Ituha turned, and Nascha snapped, "Shappa, Aquene, go." They did, and Nascha was only heartbeats behind them, as Aquene's leaving broke the power she had over them.

They ran. Shappa was losing blood, and kept on losing his grip on the power that kept them in spiritworld, dropping out for heartbeats at a time. The skinwalkers were gaining. Finally, Shappa passed out, falling hard out of spiritworld.

Aquene came to a stop, crying, "No, we have to save him!"

Nascha gritted her teeth. "Drop out, guard him, try to convince the ones who drop out that he's dead and you're no threat and get them to chase me. Think you can do it?"

"I can try." She dropped out and Nascha kept running, sending a prayer to all who would listen. The skinwalkers stopped, dropped out, and a moment later came back into spiritworld and resumed their pursuit.

And now, Nascha was running for her life. She was good at running, always had been, but she had shattered her knee just over a season ago. As she ran, it started to send up flares of pain through her leg and into her hips and shoulders.

"Nascha, where are you?" It was Cheveyo's familiar voice.

She sent a picture of her surroundings. "Aquene and Shappa have dropped out behind me."

"I am coming. They are forming on you. Chogan is not far behind the first three." He sounded desperately worried.

"I'll keep going," she said. And she did. Her knee was afire, but she could not let it stop her, or even slow her that much. She knew that these might be the last moments of her life, but what mattered right now was that she had saved those she could.

The skinwalkers followed, just dogging her now, waiting for her to stop or drop. They knew about her injury. They could afford to let her run until she could no longer stand.

Something went by her in spiritworld, too fast to be seen, heading the way she had come. Startlement made her stumble, almost sent her falling to the ground. It had been people. Four people. "Cheveyo, any idea who just went by me going the other way?" she asked.

There was relief in Cheveyo's silent voice. "Yes, turn around and head back."

She did so, and pulled up and dropped out of spiritworld to find Cheveyo, Zotum, Otaktay, Pezi, and Sahale standing in front of Chogan, Ituha, Kohana, and Nashashuk. Otaktay gave his bear's rumble of a laugh. "Today would be a really good day for you to die, Chogan," he said, with no small amount of satisfaction.

The skinwalkers looked at each other, pulled their skins up over their heads, turned and departed. "Let them go," Cheveyo said. "We have wounded. Good timing."

Stunned, but this time with happiness, Nascha could only stare at the other four spiritwalkers for a moment. She flung herself at the nearest, who happened to be Otaktay, and hugged him. "Very good timing indeed," she said as she released him. She stepped back and hissed her breath in between her teeth, limping.

"Looks like you have had better days, little sister," Otaktay said with a wide grin.

"Many better, yes. But I'm still alive." To Aquene, she said, "How's Shappa?"

Aquene's frantic voice entered her mind. "He bled out. I couldn't stop the bleeding." Her voice was rising towards hysteria. "I tried."

"Hold on, I'll be there." She glanced at Cheveyo and said, "Shappa's dead. I need to go to Aquene."

He nodded. "I got Ahiga's bleeding under control. So go."

She gave a sharp breath as she wondered what had happened to Ahiga, and then stepped into spiritworld, and went to her sister. By the time she had gotten there, Aquene had burst into howling hysterical sobs, shaking Shappa's body as if he had just fallen asleep and needed awakening. Nascha took her and held her, letting her cry, doing some crying of her own. Wahcommo was dead, she realized. The youngest of them, the one she had desperately hoped to bring home safe, was dead.

And Shappa, who for the first time in his life had found a home with people who didn't consider him bad luck, who had loved Aquene wholeheartedly and who had finally started receiving her affection in return. Two dead. I hate this part, her numb mind said to itself, holding Aquene and trying not to let her knee stiffen up too much. I really do.

And what had happened to Ahiga?

She found out once Aquene was calm enough that she was able to stand on her own and help carry Shappa's body back to their camp. Wahcommo had been laid out as well, and they laid Shappa's body next to him.

She saw Ahiga sitting, his head hanging low. From the wrapping on his left arm, she saw almost immediately that he had lost the hand. Her heart twisted. Ahiga was left-handed. That was a disabling wound. He was alive, but he would not fight again anytime soon.

To the old ones, she said, "I'm glad you showed up when you did."

Zotum nodded. "So are we. I find speech like this to be a burden. Cheveyo, with your permission, we would like to rejoin."

"Any time, brother." Cheveyo smiled, and with a simple grasping of hands they reformed the links between all of them except Hakan, who was the only one left alive who had joined after they departed. They would relay the conversation to Hakan, who was sitting, looking intensely watchful. Cheveyo then said, "Zotum, since this has really never happened before, please continue to lead your four. We will consult on plans to act together."

Nascha was brought up short. She realized she had been preparing herself to let Zotum take her place as second. It looked like Cheveyo had no intention of letting that happen. She asked Zotum, "What happened? Why did you end up leaving the tribe?"

Zotum gave her a wry smile, which looked odd on his fanged mouth. "We haven't officially left yet, but we came to find you. Adoeete has gone crazy. Bullying and confronting, threatening anyone that thinks differently than he. His obsession with you has passed into mania. He thinks that the treaty with the Arapaho will falter if you are not killed quickly. He sent us to find and kill you. We found you, now the other part well. I think we will just have to ignore that part." There was another slow smile from Zotum, and a chuckle in his voice, which he lost entirely as he continued. "But he will hurt our families, and Adoeete slipped up. He knew somehow that you were living with the Sioux. When we confronted him, he said he heard it from the Arapaho, but as far as we knew, he was not travelling that much by spiritworld. Pezi watched him one night don a skin and go to Chogan, we knew him to be skinwalker. We moved our families away, but with no good place to take them they are just targets in the desert."

"I think we have a place we can take them," she said, shaking her head. "The Sioux camp where Hania and Sakhyo are living. It sounds like being a skinwalker is changing Adoeete very quickly for the worse."

"It always has, that is the danger."

She nodded sadly. "Well, your arrival was well-timed."

Zotum smiled again, and he glanced at her left leg, which she held stiffly out before her on the ground. "You looked like you were in over your heads."

"We were. But we may have managed to break the alliance between the Arapaho and the Spanish." She tried to smile but could not. It had been so easy to accomplish, and had come at such a high price.

"That is good. The Ute have suffered a lot of losses by gun recently." He turned to Cheveyo. "Cheveyo, if you would pass the Sioux camp location to Pezi, we can start transferring the families. If you think the Sioux will take us?"

Cheveyo nodded. "They will, but one of us needs to go with Pezi. Ahiga, go with him. Get Hania to clean that wound, then be our eyes and ears there. Stay with your wife, child and unborn."

Ahiga stiffened, sitting up. He raised his right hand. "I can still fight," he said, his voice stubborn.

"Ahiga, if nothing else, it's going to take time for you to learn to fight with your off hand," Nascha said, trying not to sound as if she were pleading. The thought of Ahiga going up against a skinwalker offhanded...he was good, but he was not quite that good.

Cheveyo shook his head. "We are spiritwalkers, Ahiga. We know our limitations. This one was forced on you. You can still fight, but you will do so in the Sioux camp, protecting them. Your time to walk with us is over. Do what you can and accept what you can't."

Ahiga looked a bit hurt, but nodded, understanding. Nascha got up, clenching her teeth on the moan that wanted to come out of her throat, and went to settle herself next to Ahiga, taking his right hand in hers. "I'll miss you, but Sakhyo needs you."

He let out a long breath. "I know. I will just miss the chance to kill Chogan."

"I'll do my best to finish him for you," she said with a smile.

He squeezed her hand. "Thanks. I will be watching."

The rest had begun to move around, sensing that the conference was over for the moment. Cheveyo asked Nascha, "Aquene?"

She glanced at Aquene, who was sitting next to Shappa's body, her eyes hollow with grief. "Aquene's torn up about Shappa. Do you want her to go with Ahiga?"

"She is going to take time to heal emotionally. She will do one of two things--get herself killed by fighting to the death when retreat would be the best option, or she will simply not fight." There was a sorrow in Cheveyo's voice. "Her gift is more useful to the tribe, they are her people."

Nascha nodded. "I think so. And to be honest, I think Sakhyo may need help from her gift once the child is born."

"I think me telling her will make her think I am dismissing her as a problem to get rid of. Think you can do it with more tact?"

She almost smiled. "I was about to say that. I can talk with her."

"Good. Get her to go home."

"I will," she said, and got up to limp over to Aquene. She sank down next to her sister spiritwalker, and reached out to smooth Aquene's disheveled hair. "How are you doing?" she asked quietly.

Aquene didn't look at her. "If I said better I would be lying. And spiritwalkers have no lies between them, so, not good."

"I know." She paused, tried to collect her thoughts. "Aquene, what do you think about the idea of you going back to the Sioux with Ahiga? Sakhyo is likely going to need your talents when her child is born, and I think your people could benefit from your skills."

The other woman raised her head now, and looked at Nascha. "I am not much of a fighter, and it scares me most of the time. So home is probably best for me. You have those four, I think they are what you need, not a peacemaker. For there is no way to make peace with them." Her voice was exhausted, but there was an anger burning in it, for what she had now had stolen from her twice over.

"As much as I hate to say it, there really isn't," Nascha said quietly.

"What about you?" Aquene asked.

Nascha blinked. She hadn't realized that going with Aquene had even been an option--and now that she thought about it, she still didn't think it was. "I think I need to stay and fight. As much as I'd like to settle somewhere, I don't think it's my fate."

"It's too bad. I have seen Sakhyo with her baby and you too. I think you would make a good mother to your own."

Her heart twisted as she remembered all the time Cheveyo and she spent carefully not talking about the future that they both knew they probably wouldn't live to see. "I'd like to have my own children, but I'm unlikely to get the chance. If both Cheveyo and I live through Chogan, then we'll see."

Aquene's smile was slow and quiet. "The gods give burdens to those that can handle them. I think they chose wisely with you. Myself, I think it was a prank by Coyote."

Nascha leaned forward to gather her sister in her arms. Aquene stiffened and then relaxed, putting her head on Nascha's shoulder. "I don't think so, Aquene. This world needs people who can make peace, and a spiritwalker who can get people to shut up and listen to each other is a very powerful one." She released Aquene, and smiled. "But then again, I'm Navajo. I was raised to believe in the power of people talking to one another."

"The Apache and the Arapaho don't, that is for sure." Aquene nodded. "I will go home to the Sioux, and keep an eye on Ahiga and his family and the rest."

"Thank you, Aquene," she said, heartfelt.

"We walk different paths, but you are still my sister," Aquene said.

"And you mine. I'll miss you, but we'll still talk."

"Good," Aquene said, and then got up to do what packing she needed to do.

Pezi, Ahiga, and Aquene left for the Sioux camp soon after, and Pezi was gone for most of the day, transferring family members to the Sioux. He arrived back late at night, and by that time they had built the platforms for Wahcommo and Shappa.

That night, Hakan did the first of his rituals to be brought into the fold with the older ones. On the third night after he began, they burned the bodies of their fallen brothers.