It did not take long to come to the narrow part of the river. They found it was an even better crossing than it had appeared from above. Many of the rocks and boulders that washed down the river collected here in the place where the water cut through a crack in a huge shelf of solid stone. The river was deep and fast at the crossing, but narrow enough that everyone could jump it, even mothers carrying their children. The only child too big to carry was Black-Eyes-Staring, and he was nearly grown and able to make the jump by himself, under the worried eyes of his mother. They crossed one by one, with people waiting on the far side to catch them, until all were across.
The land was rocky and barren around the crossing, but they soon came to the trees that God-Speaker had seen from the ridge. They covered a broad area of rolling hills. Birch and pines grew far apart, surrounded by tangled bushes and undergrowth. The ground was shielded from snow beneath the trees, and all the plants and trees were eager for spring, sprouting new growth.
The people followed the edge of the forest, still within sight of the river, and soon came upon hoof-prints in a half-frozen patch of mud. Far-Seeing and Finds-the-Trail crouched over the tracks, murmuring to each other and occasionally tracing their shape with a finger. After a short discussion, they stood and called to the other hunters. They gathered spears and slings and set off into the forest, following the tracks.
The sun was still well above the horizon, but the rest of the people began to make camp. There was excited conversation as everyone speculated on the likelihood of fresh meat for their evening meal. God-Speaker felt relief that he was no longer expected to join the hunt. Though he was of hunting age, he was shaman now. He was expected to focus on other responsibilities. Even so, the same hunters who would mock him for slowing the hunting party or missing the quarry with his spear would be just as annoyed that he was excluded from the hunt, yet still entitled to his share of the meat.
Half lost in thought, God-Speaker spotted Braves-the-Storm at the edge of the group. The old man motioned for God-Speaker to join him. God-Speaker looked down to the pack that he had only just removed from his aching shoulders. It was still silent. He left the god sleeping there, in the middle of the camp, and followed Braves-the-Storm. Nobody else would dare approach it.
“If we do not hunt, we can at least scout the path ahead,” Braves-the-Storm said as God-Speaker caught up.
They walked in the space between the trees and the river, their simple hide boots crunching the icy gravel. The shadows grew long in the fading light. The water was quieter here. The furrow carved by the river cut deeper and deeper as they went. They approached the edge and saw that the water was far below now. The walls of the little canyon shone with ice. Even here, the gap between the walls was not wide. Braves-the-Storm picked up a rock and threw it to the other side. It easily cleared the gap and skittered into a line of gray boulders.
He turned, sharp eyes locked on God-Speaker.
“There are those who want me to lead,” he said. “I am sure you have heard this talk among the people.”
God-Speaker looked away. “I have heard whispers.”
“They speak too loudly, and without thought,” Braves-the-Storm said.
God-Speaker blinked in surprise and looked up into the old man’s eyes again. His expression had softened.
“I am glad to offer whatever wisdom I have to the people. But any with eyes can see that I am old. How long could I lead them?”
“You’re still strong,” God-Speaker said.
“I am tired,” Braves-the-Storm said. He sat on a rock, and God-Speaker saw his body settle and bend. He suddenly looked older. “I try to look strong so the people worry less. But it does not make me any younger.”
God-Speaker frowned. He had never considered that Braves-the-Storm’s vitality might be partly an act.
“The people need young leaders,” the old man continued. “Young leaders who will guide them for a long time to come.”
God-Speaker swallowed, but didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Do you understand why I’m telling you this?” Braves-the-Storm asked. “I was never as wise as Makes-Medicine. I was glad when she took you as her family. It was better for both of you. When you heard the call of the stone god, it proved her wisdom. A shaman guiding a shaman. But she had many years to learn magic and healing from Speaks-Softly before his spirit left us. She had time to show her power and wisdom to the people. The people have not yet seen your power. The stone god is strange to them. They are not used to having a spirit take a form like that and live among them. They need to see that you are capable.”
God-Speaker frowned. “What sign can I give them?”
Suddenly, there was a noise from across the gap of the canyon. The shape of a person holding a spear came walking from behind those boulders, followed by several more. They were not quite shadows, but were hard to see with the sun setting behind them. They clearly saw the two men across from them. They stopped, still standing in a line, looking across the gap at God-Speaker and Braves-the-Storm. It was a small group, much smaller than their own people. God-Speaker thought of the strange man who had invaded their valley days before. Did these people look the same? It was hard to tell. He tensed, waiting for any sign of danger.
The man with the spear crouched and set his weapon on the ground. Then he stood and made a broad, sweeping gesture with his arms. One of the others spoke or made some sound, but it meant nothing to God-Speaker. He looked to Braves-the-Storm, but his face showed uncertainty too. After a few silent moments, the others walked back to the line of boulders, turned, and went out of sight up-river.
The two stared at the boulders as the sun faded.
Braves-the-Storm shook his head. “If they are climbing, what good can we hope to find as we go down?”
“Maybe we picked the better side of the river,” God-Speaker said.
Braves-the-Storm stood and they began to walk back to the rest of the people.
“My sister once told me a vision she had,” he said. “She saw that she would die before the people found snowless lands. She never told the others. What hope would they have while she was alive? Maybe you can lead the people to the place, when she could not.”
God-Speaker couldn’t believe that he would do something like that.. He wondered what other things she had seen that he would never know about.
“How could I?”
Braves-the-Storm paused again. “When you are afraid, I see it in your eyes, and so does everyone else. That is why you are not a good leader.”
“I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”
Braves-the-Storm sighed. “You can be afraid, but don’t show it, and don’t think about what you want. Do what is best for them. Do that, and they will see it.”
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