Spiritwalkers: Tracker

[aithne]

Nascha woke, and for a moment she was completely disoriented. Wrapped in a blanket, out under the open sky--she had been dreaming of her family's wickiup, of Tse beside her...

Oh.

She was awake, and she was a spiritwalker now. Grief was a hard weight in her this morning, more so than it had been since she'd run away from Chogan. She swallowed it down and sat up, combing through her hair with her fingers and braiding it on either side of her face. She had asked for some leather scraps the other day, and now wrapped them around her braids, like the men--the warriors--of her tribe did.

She could feel the eyes of the others on her as she folded her blanket and got ready to go, though none of them said anything to her. There was food, but she ate little. "Four days to Little Water," Dichali said as they mounted up. She nodded and settled on Una's back.

It was a day much like the ones that had gone before, riding and training, the sun beating down on their heads. She could hear all of her brothers, a strange feeling. It was Pezi, who hardly spoke aloud, who she heard the most, as he ranged out and gave reports to the rest of what he saw, sending images. She felt strangely full, as if she had gained something she could not name in the ceremony last night.

At nightfall, as usual, they stopped and camped. Tonight, it was her and Sahale's turn to make the evening meal. Afterwards, after the sun had set and everyone was settling in for the night, Cheveyo came to her. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She considered the way her insides were knotted with pain. "I'm starting to get used to my head feeling full and hearing all of you. I hurt, but it's mostly manageable."

Cheveyo nodded. "It can take a while. You up for a walk, or would you like to rest more?"

She got to her feet, wondering what it was Cheveyo wanted. "I can come for a walk, yes."

"Good. I have something I want to see if you can do."

She blinked, tilting her head. "So which way are we going?" she asked.

"Just a bit this way," he said, pointing north. Nascha fell in beside him, walking out of camp to the north with him. It was odd, having these conversations in silence; she could hear his voice in her mind but at the same time it was as if her ears ached for lack of the sound. Behind her, she could hear conversations going, Dichali was teasing Zotum about something, it sounded like, and Otaktay was joining in.

Beyond the light of the fire, Cheveyo stopped and pointed at the ground a few feet ahead. "Know what that is?"

It was a track, a canine of some sort. Nascha's father had taught her a little tracking, to bide the time when she was out watching the sheep and to be able to recognize the most common of the creatures that would often want to share the family's harvest. "Kit fox," she said.

"Good," he said. "Now can you step into spiritworld and look again?"

Nascha nodded and pushed into spiritworld. She bent to look at the tracks and then hissed in surprise as a translucent image of the little fox appeared in the tracks, waking by unhurriedly. She watched it, seeing where it moved, what it snuffled at. She stepped out of spiritworld. "I can see an image of the fox and the way it went. Is that something we all can do?"

Cheveyo shook his head. "No, that is something that you can do. It's what you gained last night."

"From Chahta." Nascha pressed her lips together, not sure what to make of this. "I knew I'd gotten things from him, but that's a surprise."

"I have one more." He walked a bit farther along, then pointed down. In the moonlight, she could see that it was a man's footprint, hard and wide. "How about this one?"

Nascha looked at the track, marking where it was, and then pushed into spiritworld. The image sprang to life almost before she had properly focused on it. From the back, it looked like Dichali. He was walking north, and she made a surprised noise and followed. She followed him until he stopped to pee, watering a large rock. "Back him up, if you can, to this track by me," Cheveyo instructed.

Nascha took a step back, concentrating on the tracks close to her feet. It took her a moment or two, but she figured out how to make the image back up, and took it back to where Cheveyo was. It was slow, and Nascha felt clumsy at it, but it worked. "Hold him here. And can you walk around him? Can you see what he is doing?"

She fixed it in her mind that she was looking at these tracks here, and carefully stepped around the image. She laughed when she saw Dichali's face. He was sticking his tongue out at her. She made a face back. "You sent him out here to make tracks for me," she told Cheveyo.

"Sure did," he said, chuckling. "I wanted to see if you could see him, and what he was doing."

"Making faces at me, mostly," she said dryly, stepping out of spiritworld.

"Sure was. Good. It seems that you are our tracker."

Nascha discovered that she was grinning. "Appears that way," she said. "That was rather fun, really. Is that all you wanted to find out?"

Cheveyo gave her an appraising look. The moonlight cast his eyes into deep shadow. "Mostly just to see if it worked, and how you were doing. It's all very new to you, and it's only been nine days now."

She had an impulse to tell him she was fine, not to worry, but then realized that wasn't the truth. She gave him a wry smile. "Overwhelmed. Tired. Every time I don't think I can learn one more new thing, I have three more things I need to somehow fit into my head. And, well...I miss home." Missed home, missed her family, missed the food her mother and aunt and grandmother would cook...she even missed the sheep. "I know I have to do this, and I have to keep pushing myself ahead, but it's hard sometimes."

"Sorry for that and the short time to get you to understand being a spiritwalker, but time wasn't with you," he told her. "To get to your cousin, we need you to be ready. If this were the best of times, we could give you more time. But I feel a sense of urgency for some reason."

Nascha nodded, the familiar ache of worry rising in her throat. "If nothing else, the longer we wait, the more Sakhyo might have to give in to survive."

"She will probably have to before we get to her. I know that is hard, but in truth finding them has been a hard challenge and when we do, it's always a fight."

She remembered the battles with Chogan's people she had gotten from several different perspectives. "I know. I hate to think of the things she's going to have to do, but we'll get to her as soon as we can. It's strange, though. Chogan's a spiritwalker. You'd think he and his group wouldn't need to steal women from neighboring tribes for wives, especially since there were so many people where he took us."

Cheveyo shook his head. "No, Chogan's a skinwalker. My belief in that was started with the scalping of Chahta. Confirmed by your experience in his wickiup."

Nascha stared at Cheveyo, lost for words. Skinwalker. Skinwalkers were terrible, evil, able to use the skins of animals to take on their shapes. She had not thought of it because Chogan was not Navajo, and she had thought that the animal skins in his wickiup had been trophies of kills.

I should have known better. "All those skins. No wonder he needed to steal a wife. Probably nobody would let their daughters marry him."

"They do not know or if they do, the elders are covering it up. They take wives that can't speak Arapaho, so that they can't talk to the others and let the secret escape."

It made Nascha feel ill, to know how close she had come to a skinwalker, how close Sakhyo still was. "And it looked like his family was all dead." It was said that skinwalkers became that way after killing a member of their own family; whether this was true for Arapaho as well as Navajo, she could not guess.

"Probably killed by someone else or even himself," Cheveyo said, echoing her thoughts. "Skinwalkers will do just about anything. This is how they steal and walk the spiritworld. Clothed in another human skin."

She shuddered. "And he took Chahta's skin."

"He did. I think he will use it to walk the spiritworld. Gain some knowledge about us as well and some knowledge about his gift. Yours, now. I took it from him before he died, so Chogan may get little. Had he died, Chogan would know much more."

"Well, I'm glad you were able to do that. But he's going to be hard to find, if he and his people wear other' skins," she said.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Very, which is why I am counting on you. I hope you can see through the skins by looking at the tracks. I think that is why Chahta was killed."

"Because they knew he could track them," she said, her silent voice thoughtful.

Cheveyo nodded. "Which makes you a target again, once they find out Chahta has been replaced. Chogan will figure this to be the case and that you are female and his wife to be that escaped. Leads to you having a very big target on you."

"As long as he dies before I do, I'm happy," she said. "I just have to survive that long."

An odd look crossed Cheveyo's face, then. "I would hope you will survive longer than that."

"We'll see," she said. "I can't think too much past it right now."

"I hope someday you will have to." The odd look was still there, and she wasn't sure what it boded. Did he hope that she would want to spend her life past Chogan's death, if she lived, with him? Perhaps.

She didn't ask. "By that time, I might be used enough to this life that I can imagine it going on," she told him. She tried to imagine being used to life as a warrior, always being in motion. The Apache were mobile, far more than the Navajo who tended to sit still and raise vegetables and sheep when they could. The thought of it made her feel even more tired than she already was.

"As you know, many have families. So you can have a life besides just this." Cheveyo motioned back at the rest and then around them, encompassing the whole of who they were and the job they did.

Nascha shook her head. "Being a woman, I think it's a bit different. I couldn't bring a child along with me, out here."

"True enough, but we can make arrangements for you if it becomes necessary," he said.

She wondered what those arrangements would be. Leave a baby with someone to take care of while she ran around and risked her neck for the tribe? Bring a child with her, and hope that it was quiet at the right times? But she nodded, still, acknowledging that there might be some arrangement that could be come to. "We'll see what happens, and if I live."

Cheveyo nodded, acquiescing the point. They walked back to the others in silence. It felt strange, to have a night without someone coming to take her hands and tell her their life. When she saw Dichali, sitting in front of the fire, she stuck her tongue out at him, leaving the rest puzzled when he roared with laughter. She explained, and was congratulated by her brothers.

The rest of the way to Little Water, three days of riding, passed without incident. She trained when she could, with bow and hatchet, and learned more about spiritworld crossings, including how to cross into spiritworld without moving physically. She practiced tracking when she could, as well, discovering after a hard fall that she could not cross into spiritworld to look for tracks while on Una's back. She would transition but Una would not. There was much laughing about that one, though Zotum told her later that it was a lesson all of them had learned the hard way. Fortunately, the blow to her pride was worse than the bruises on her bottom and legs.

They arrived at Little Water, leaving the horses hidden about twenty miles away. Nascha scratched Una affectionately and told her to be good while she was gone, and the mare snorted, as if saying, you, too. Then they walked in spiritworld into Little Water.

It was a small trading post, maybe twenty wooden buildings on two corridors, all built by the whites. There were Spanish here, and whites that seemed to be from different tribes by how they dressed, and many natives from all the local tribes. Though it was small, the trade goods were overflowing, including women for hire.

"We go as four, never any less," Cheveyo told her. "You, me, Pezi, and Otaktay will go in. Watch carefully."

She nodded, and they went in. The only one of them who was given a second glance was Otaktay, who people took one look at and melted out of the way of. Nobody spared a look for Nascha, trailing in his wake. She felt as invisible as she was in spiritworld.

This whole place reeked of disharmony and alcohol and unburied shit. Guns occasionally went off around them, causing Nascha to jump, nervous as a deer. People quarreled over prices in many languages around them, and Nascha started as she heard a phrase that had a very familiar sound to it. Arapaho. She darted around Otaktay, going in search of the speaker.

She wasn't too worried about being seen; the only one who had looked at her much had been Chogan, and he probably wasn't here. Nascha caught a glimpse of a man who wore his hair in Arapaho-style braids, and slipped through the crowd to get closer. It was Tavibo, she saw. One of the skinwalkers. His back was to her, and he had a new rifle and bullets in his hands.

He had just traded with an old, ugly white man, it looked like. He man was putting a bunch of Navajo jewelry into a bag, and Nascha swallowed her surge of rage. She ducked back into the crowd and relayed to the others what she had just seen.

"Nascha, follow him," Cheveyo said. "Otaktay, go to the right and see if you can herd him into that alley. Pezi, get in front of him. I will be in the alley. We are going to take him here, he is alone. Unless you see any more of them. Nascha?"

Nascha took a long look around. She saw nobody who moved in a familiar way, and heard no Arapaho voices. "None obvious, no."

"Nascha, I don't want you seen by Tavibo. I don't want your image seen by the others. If you get a clear shot in the alley from the back, take it."

"I will," she said silently. "I'm ready." And, amazingly, she was. She was not nervous or afraid, but calm, centered, though the crowd moved and surged around her.

The rest split, Cheveyo almost immediately saying that he was in the alley. Otaktay went, stepping in Tavibo's way, making sure that when he stepped, he stepped towards the alley. Nascha watched through her eyes and through the eyes of the others, seeing the scene from three other perspectives at once.

Tavibo got close to the alley, crowded close by Otaktay, his eyes not yet registering danger. Pezi finally stepped in front of him and shoved him in the alley. Now was Nascha's moment, if she was going to fire it would have to be now--and without thinking about it she raised the bow, whipping an arrow from her quiver, firing it through a small crowd. She didn't stop to see whether it hit and ducked away into the crowd.

Pezi sent her a pleased image of Tavibo stumbling, an arrow lodged firmly in his back, and then disappearing into spiritworld. Cheveyo followed, Pezi and Otaktay on his heels. Nascha decided not to follow, instead weaving through the crowd and fetching up on one side of the alley, looking around for pursuit.

"Nascha. We have him." Cheveyo send along with the words an image of Tavibo on the ground, his eyes covered with a cloth. "Come along. We are here." Another image, this one of a place about two miles away from Little Water.

Nascha nodded and steeped into spiritworld, and it was only a few moments late when she stepped out, next to Cheveyo. "Adoeete, we need you here now," Cheveyo said. He smiled at Nascha. "Now we see who gets here first. Tavibo's friends, Adoeete or the spirits."

She frowned. "The spirits?"

"If he is a skinwalker, and he has stolen from them, the spirits could take him," he said.

"I see," she said, and pulled an arrow from her quiver, looking nervous.

A few breaths later Adoeete arrived, looking speculatively at the downed skinwalker. "What am I looking for?" he asked Cheveyo.

Cheveyo's eyes were hooded, but he otherwise showed no emotion. "Who he has with him, where they are as far as he knows, and what we can expect from them when they attack. And if he's a skinwalker."

Adoeete nodded and bent down, grabbing Tavibo's head in his long-fingered hands. He started sending images to them--Nascha identified the others with him as Skah, Chunta, and Ituha. They were a little farther out from Little Water, and he had left them behind to go sell things at the post. There were images, battles, attacking to kill quickly first by bow and then closing in with hatchets.

Then more images, each of his brothers. They all saw them wearing skins, changing themselves to look like the animals whose skins they wore.

Skinwalkers, all.

"Adoeete, let him go," Cheveyo said. "Pezi, pull him and let the spirits find him. All of you back to camp, quickly. Nascha, go with Pezi. You should see this once."

Nascha nodded, and Pezi leaned down and put his hand on the now-struggling skinwalker's shoulder, then moved into spiritworld. Nascha followed him, and then blinked as she saw the misty shapes of the spirits coming towards them in a rush. Mist became shapes became human faces twisted with rage and hatred, and as Pezi let Tavibo go the spirits wrapped insubstantial hands around Tavibo's limbs.

Not so insubstantial now, the spirits solidified and began to tear into Tavibo's flesh, bloody bits of him flying as spirits tore into him. Tavibo died screaming, and the spirits never made a sound. "Go, Nascha." Pezi's voice was low and urgent. "Be right behind you."

Nascha nodded and began running, and within a few heartbeats emerged from spiritworld back at camp. "Break camp and move," Cheveyo said. "We need to go."

There was no argument, and packing took only minutes. Otaktay took care of both his and Zotum's bags while Zotum covered all evidence of their fire, and they were mounted and headed west at a gallop in very little time.

They pushed the horses, moving for hours between a lope and a gallop, changing direction more or less randomly. Una was sweating under her as they rode, flecks of foam flying from her mouth, but her heart was strong and she kept up with the other horses easily. Cheveyo finally called a halt in a place where a few trees grew twisted out of rocks root-broken and scattered by water. "Rest for a bit. Let's see if they can follow."

Nascha slid off Una and unloaded her bags, lightening the load as much as she could on the mare. Una's flanks heaved, and she hung her head, but her eyes were bright and she quickly recovered enough to raise her head and look around. Nascha scratched her ears, running her fingers through the horse's sweat-soaked mane. "So how was Tavibo able to walk through spiritworld without the spirits getting to him before?" she asked Cheveyo silently.

The tall man looked over at her, and she thought she saw approval at the question. "In skinwalker form, they don't recognize him. As his real form, they did. He was chancing they wouldn't catch him before he stepped out when he disappeared after you shot him, which is how we caught him . Good shot by the way. He had to step out quickly, but he didn't have time to change skins. The arrow in the back prevents them from changing. Hard to put a skin over your back with an arrow in it." Cheveyo gave her a hard, brief smile, which she returned.

"I'll remember that. So if they're being careful, they'll be a bit slower to go into spiritworld than we are." She took a long breath. "And thank you. Zotum's teaching seems to be working."

He nodded. "They would have to change skins. Which is how we got the time we did. It was a chance I was willing to take."

"It worked. And we got one of them."

"More to go. And it gets harder from here. I doubt they will follow us until they are full strength again. Which means meeting up with Chogan." Cheveyo held something out to her, and she took it from him. It was a bit of metal, shining yellow in the relentless desert light, and it looked familiar. The Spanish wore them on their clothing, seemingly as identification.

She turned out over in her hands, studying it, seeing the places where the metal had been scratched. "Well, we knew they were working with the Spanish."

"Your attack was in the wickiup and then you were knocked out. Any chance that you heard gunfire?" Cheveyo asked. His tone was a little regretful, as if he disliked stirring up memories of the attack.

Nascha thought back, and nodded. "I did, yes. I didn't see anyone with guns, but I was too busy running to notice."

Cheveyo nodded as if this confirmed a theory. "I think that they are so successful on their raids because they are leading the Spanish to encampments. They start shooting and Chogan picks up all the spoils."

"Probably comes out a few days before and watches to know when the right time will be to attack, and what it is they want, so they can attack just the right places." She made a face. "I didn't see any Spanish, and by the time I came to there weren't any around."

Dichali had drifted over, paying attention to their conversation, nodding as if he were hearing a confirmation of his theory. He wasn't talking, for once. "I would bet on it," Cheveyo said. "With the Spanish working with them, the Arapaho will be the only group left. Serves both the Spanish and the Arapaho."

"No wonder there were so many Arapaho gathered in one place." Nascha nodded to Dichali. "Stop Chogan and the rest, and the attacks won't be nearly as effective."

"Break the Spanish by driving a wedge between them and Chogan will have the Spanish and us on his tail. We can go at it either way."

"Make them think Chogan is betraying them somehow," she said. "Either attack them and make it look like it was Chogan, or make sure what he's telling them becomes false as soon as he says it."

"Got any good ideas?" Cheveyo asked.

The casualness of his question took her breath away. He was asking her if she had any ideas? She was Navajo, she was female, she had only been a spiritwalker for a few days; what made him think she had any ideas worth having? But she straightened, regardless. "He has to be coming in to talk to them. Some well-timed deaths among the army would help," she said, thinking. "Otherwise, we need to get ahead of him somehow."

"We don't know where he is going for sure," he said, and Nascha breathed out as it became apparent that Cheveyo was considering her words. "But the army is probably easier to find."

"When we find them, we may be able to find an opening," she said.

He nodded. "We should start searching through spiritworld to find them. It's faster. Then we'll return to the tribe and warn them."

"Is there a search pattern we walk to find things like an army?" she asked.

"We take the eight points and walk. I don't like to break up like that but it's going to be the only way to find them quickly," Cheveyo said. "We can do that now while the horses are resting. All right, everyone. Outward-facing circle. I'm south."

Nascha ended up next to Cheveyo, facing southeast. Zotum was on her other side. "If you find anything, don't do anything rash," Zotum said.

"Tell us first, and then do something rash," Sahale said, grinning.

Dichali, facing north, snorted. "Nascha thinks too much to do anything rash. Might do something stupid, but she'll think carefully about it before she does it." He turned and flashed a grin at Nascha, who made a face back at him, and with that they all transferred into spiritworld.

She started walking, keeping a close eye out as the landscape flashed by. It took a good amount of concentration to pay attention to the landscape that was moving by her so quickly, but she got the hang of it within ten paces.

Three hundred paces later, she passed through something that darkened the air around her, like smoke. She paused and stepped back, looking around.

It was what appeared to be a settlement, burned debris and corpses lying tumbled in piles. From the bits she could see--a shred of unburned hide, some feathers--it had been a Sioux camp. "I found something, I'm checking it out," she said to the others, and Started to carefully step around the village, looking at the ground.

A murderous scene sprang to life around her, Spanish shooting randomly into the village, killing everyone they could. The faces were blank, but then she came across a familiar track, and Chogan sprang to life in front of her. She could see him flickering through the village, either going in and out of spiritworld or having his tracks erased by those who came after him, she couldn't tell which.

The story she could read in the tracks and the images was a repeat of what had happened in her village, and she felt sick to her stomach as she put the pieces together. The Spanish had shot all most of them and then Chogan and his cohort had moved in to clean up and take prisoners. She saw him leaving with a light-boned woman in tow. He'd left to the north, and the army had left in the same direction but separately, paralleling the skinwalkers' path.

Nascha sent all of this over to her brothers and added that she was going to follow the army first to see where they went. The Spanish were trying to hide their numbers, but there were at least fifty of them. They had moved quite far from the burned camp, and she found them occupying a valley that was not far from the great canyon.

They had their strange tents pitched and their horses were grazing in a hastily-built corral. She saw that Chogan had met up with these people, and all nine of the skinwalkers were there now, on the edges of the Spanish camp. Chogan was talking to the Spanish, flashing smiles that she did not think he really meant at the Spanish.

"Found them," she murmured. There was a rising excitement in her, and a corresponding dread of what might happen in the battle to come.

"Keep your distance, we will be there." Cheveyo's voice was firm, and after a moment she backed off from the camp a bit, though still keeping it in view.

Minutes later, the others began to arrive. Cheveyo was first, and Nascha jump when he simply appeared beside her, abruptly occupying the space next to her. "All nine of Chogan's people are here," she told him.

"I see that," he said, and like her simply watched them. The others arrived one by one, and once they were all there Cheveyo said, "I don't think it's our time. Let's go." He glanced at Pezi. "Pezi, keep an eye on them periodically."

Pezi nodded and said, "I will."

But-- Nascha bit back the words that wanted to come out of her mouth, but she must have been frowning, because Cheveyo turned to her. "Disagree, Nascha?"

They were so close. "It just seems like a waste of an opening. We could wait until Chogan leaves, watch them. You have much more experience with this than I do, so I'll trust you."

Cheveyo eyed her. "Watch them do what?"

She shrugged. "See whose death would throw them into the most disarray."

"All of them, for that is what we have to do." He smiled slightly. "But we need Chogan to leave. That army is nothing for eight spiritwalkers. Chogan is the threat."

"And staying here, even in spiritworld, would mean that they might see us," she said. It was a risk, and not a good one. She knew that, and yet their quarry was right there. She forced herself to relax.

"If they enter spiritworld, they could see us. You are understanding." Cheveyo nodded, and smiled briefly. "We will return when they are gone. But they are getting close to our tribe, we need to warn them. Back to the horses, we have a long ride."

Watching the others leave was as strange as seeing them arrive--there were there one moment, gone the next, leaving her behind. She followed, heading in the direction they'd gone.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps when she saw a familiar figure for just a moment among the crowds of misty spirits. She paused, and turned, and she could see the figure of her father break away from the group and hurry towards her, taking on more solid form as he approached.

Nascha's heart thudded against her ribs. "Nascha, daughter!" he called, smiling.

She swallowed down tears. It was so good to see him again, see the familiar face and the wrapped braids she'd loved to pull on as a child. "I miss you," she said softly. "But I'm working on getting Sakhyo and Nastas out."

"I understand, Nascha." Her father smiled gently. "You have a strange life set before you, but I knew that."

"I never expected to become what I have. But it was necessary." She felt strange; of all the people who she thought might not approve, her father was first. He had always been so protective of her, usually unnecessarily so. She had been his only living child, though, and she knew it was because he'd feared losing her as he'd lost both of his young sons.

But he didn't seem angry, or even particularly worried. "It was. How does it feel?"

"Very strange. Having seven other people talking in my head is overwhelming. But there are some things that are fun, and I think I'm starting to get used to the rest."

"Remember to live," he said, and his voice was unexpectedly grave.

Nascha fell silent for a moment, and felt something cold inside of her moving. "That's hard for me to remember, right now. I don't really want to." She couldn't think of a future beyond rescuing Sakhyo and Nastas; every time she did, the cold things got worse and tears threatened to overwhelm her. She was a spiritwalker, and death apparently came all too soon for those like her.

Her father shook his head slowly. "Vengeance will sustain you for some time, but if that is all you are, then you will be Chogan."

"I'm hoping the worst of the grief will pass and I'll be able to find reasons to live past rescuing Sakhyo and Nastas," she said, and the pain that she heard in her voice surprised her. She had buried much of it in the work she was doing, but seeing her father again, hearing his calm voice, brought everything she had lost painfully back.

"Open your eyes again. You may have lost one family but gained another," he said gently.

"I have. It's only been a few days, it'll get easier, I think." She took a sharp breath in through her nose. "I miss you and Mother and the rest, and I wish I'd had more time with Tse."

Father blinked. "He is here?"

Nascha nodded. "I watched Chogan kill him. I assume he's with his birth family, since he didn't have much time with ours."

"I have not seen him, but you may wish to seek them out sometime."

She should, though she was afraid seeing him again would wake the pain in her even more. "I will. I'd like to see him even if it's only here."

"I am sure he will miss you too."

Pain snagged her briefly, and she swallowed. "I need to go, Father. I love you."

He smiled brilliantly, as if that was the only thing he had ever wanted to hear. I love you too, Nascha. Goodbye."

She smiled and forced her feet into motion, arriving back to see that the others were mounted up and ready to go. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I saw my father and stopped to talk."

"No need to apologize," Cheveyo said. "Are you ready now?"

"I am," she said. She saw that someone had put her bags on Una's back, leaving mounting up and riding as the only thing she needed to do. She did so, and they turned south and rode.

It was a long few days, though the rhythm of traveling was starting to feel familiar. They passed through areas that were a bit dryer than usual, and then began to travel across a rolling grassland, interrupted by rock formations.

Five days later, they arrived at the Apache settlement. It was small, perhaps thirty people in all, but it was very well outfitted. Nascha had dropped to the last in line and so she got to see people running out to greet them all. Dichali was nearly lifted off his feet by a large, ugly woman who was radiantly happy to see him--his wife, she figured. The others were greeted and cheered on like heroes, like the warriors in tales.

Nascha dismounted and stood by Una, uneasy and rather wishing she could disappear. She saw Sahale point at her, saying to the woman he had been hugging that Nascha was the newest spiritwalker. This news rippled out through the crowd, and Nascha was swept up into it, excited voices chattering all around her, hands touching her hair and her shoulders.

After the excitement calmed down, the others headed for their respective homes while children took the horses to join the nearby herd. Nascha felt a hand on her arm. It was Cheveyo, she knew even before she turned to him. "Come, Nascha. You will stay with me and my grandfather."

She gave him a wan smile, feeling more than a little ragged. "Thank you. I was just wondering who I was going to stay with."

Cheveyo smiled. "You get used to it, the attention."

"I hope so. I don't even think so much attention was paid to me on my wedding day," she said with a small smile.

"I would have thought you would have drawn a crowd of dejected men, at the very least." He chuckled and began to guide her towards a wickiup near the center of the village, not letting go of her arm.

Nascha shook her head and smiled. "Well, considering that I got married after my family broke away, I was related by blood or marriage to everyone present. Besides, all the men always paid attention to Sakhyo instead of me. I didn't mind, I got the one I wanted." Cheveyo glanced away from her, and belatedly she realized that he had been attempting to flirt with her.

She felt exquisitely clumsy, but she couldn't take her words back now. "Ah well. At least you got what you wanted," Cheveyo said lightly. The hut they were going to belonged, it appeared, to the village's shaman. They ducked inside and as Nascha's eyes adjusted to the dim, she saw a an older man, probably about two hundred seasons. The lines on his lean face were deep, but his hair was still black. "Hania, this is my newest spiritwalker, Nascha. Nascha, my grandfather Hania. Shaman."

"I'm honored to meet you, Hania," she said.

Hania smiled. "Grandfather, everyone calls me that." He was surrounded by bowls of what appeared to be herbs of various sorts, griunding some with a rock pestle.

"Well, thank you, Grandfather." She liked this man already, he had a kind smile, and he didn't seem inclined to make much of her as those outside had.

"I have a third mat ready for you and several blankets. Feel free to anything you want."

"Thank you," she said, and tilted her head inquiringly. "I take it you knew Cheveyo would be bringing me back here?"

"I did but not the way you think I did." The corners of Hania's eyes crinkled.

On the balance, she thought that he probably wasn't making fun of her. "So how did you know?"

"I may not be spiritwalker but that doesn't mean without some help you can't talk to spirits and get visions." He picked up a bowl and held it up, and within it were three round buttons. Peyote.

Her stomach did an unexpected flip at the sight. "Oh, so you saw me coming, or someone told you. I can't imagine taking peyote more than once. You must have a strong stomach."

"You get used to it until it's just flavored water," he said, and smiled again.

Nascha couldn't imagine. "Once was enough for me, I think." She smiled at him, unexpectedly liking this man. She realized she'd been holding herself wrong since she'd arrived in the village, been awkward and tense, unsure of her welcome.

"Usually is for spiritwalkers, but some of us don't have that talent easily, like you," Hania said,

Cheveyo cleared his throat. "Close your mind as much as you can, Nascha, or you will be seeing a few things you probably don't want to see." She almost started at the sound of his voice aloud; it sounded a bit different when they talked silently.

She blinked and then realized in the back of her mind, she could see and hear as always her fellow spiritwalkers--and one of the images she was getting was involving Dichali and his wife kissing, him taking off her clothes. It really wasn't that pretty of a sight, though he certainly seemed happy about it. She threw up walls as she'd practiced with Pezi, silencing the constant voices in her mind and darkening that vision. Cheveyo grinned briefly. "That's an image no one wants to see."

She smiled back at him. "Except Dichali, and good for him."

"Better for us. She would have gotten one of the rest of us. Glad it was him."

Nascha gave him an inquiring glance. "She wanted a spiritwalker for a husband, and it didn't really matter which one?"

Cheveyo chuckled, and his eyes were abruptly distant, as if he were seeing into another time entirely. "She wanted a husband. That was enough to make us all scatter."

"I'm sure it was! Well, it seems to have worked out."

"It has," Cheveyo said.

Hania put his bowl and pestle aside, muttering briefly to the contents, then looked at her. "Are you homesick, Nascha?"

The simple question was enough to summon unwanted tears to her eyes. She nodded. "I have been for days. Why?"

"I knew another Navajo, you're prettier, but he taught me to make Navajo fry bread. Would that help or make your homesickness worse?"

She perked up. After what seemed like years of strangeness, fry bread would be a very welcome reminder of home. "I think it would help," she said, smiling a little.

Hania smiled and got up, setting to making it. He let her help when she offered, since simply watching someone else cook wasn't something Nascha had ever been allowed to do. As they cooked, Hania told her stories of Cheveyo as a baby and a young boy. Cheveyo protested, but Hania ignored him, and finally he just sat down and let his grandfather talk. Nascha encouraged Hania's stories, thinking that she might need ammunition for teasing Cheveyo with later.

"Took him fair seasons to learn how to ride, too," Hania said as he lifted the edge of the bread in the pan, checking to see if it was brown underneath. "He was the last boy his age to learn, and he fell off so much we padded his britches so it wouldn't hurt so much when he fell!" Nascha laughed, and Cheveyo rolled his eyes.

Hania also told her about Cheveyo's first girlfriend, who he'd caught him kissing out in back of the wickiup. "And guess who it was? The woman Dichali married, later. She started early, that one."

Cheveyo protested, "That's not true. It was her sister."

His grandfather laughed. "Maybe, but they were both ugly."

Nascha snickered low. "Well, she didn't catch you for marriage, at least."

"Thank the gods, but you have to practice on someone."

Hania lifted the edge of the fry bread again. "Ah, I think this is done. Nascha, this one's yours."

The fry bread was wonderful, and Nascha burned her tongue on it as she often did, eating it without letting it cool down first. It was a much-welcomed taste at home, and the way it made the inside of the wickiup smell made her feel much more at home. Hania told her more stories and Cheveyo got quite the workout with all the eye-rolling.

So the rest of the day passed, and Nascha was grateful for a day not spent in motion for once. When she curled up on the mat that Hania showed her to at sunset and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, though, it was odd to sleep a night inside. The last time she had slept inside a wickiup--

She remembered dread, Chogan's footsteps, his hands on her face, intrusive. Nascha shut her eyes tight and tried not to think about Sakhyo.

She fell asleep, and was woken by Cheveyo's hand light on her shoulder. "Get up," he said quietly. "It's almost time. Nothing serious. But get up."

Nascha scrambled up, pulling on her shoes. "Almost time for what?"

"Just come on." He stepped outside of the wickiup, and she could see from the sky that it was nearly dawn. The desert night cold was still on the land, and Nascha shivered.

Cheveyo led her to a place where they could see clear out over the desert to cliffs beyond. "There is a point in the morning where at sacred spots, we can see things the others can't," he said quietly. "The spiritworld is thin over there." He pointed at the cliffs, and in the brightening light Nascha could see the misty forms of spirits moving about, untroubled as birds. She had to look twice to make sure she hadn't accidentally stepped into spiritworld.

"Is there something I should be looking for in specific? I can see the spirits," she said.

"Watch near the center." She did, and saw as the sun behind her began to touch the tops of the cliffs with gold that the spirits were pouring into a place in the center and disappearing. "It's the only place I know that you can not be a spiritwalker and not take peyote and enter spiritworld."

"Do people go in there sometimes, then?"

Cheveyo nodded. She glanced over at him, and couldn't quite read the expression on his face. "They do. A lot of the old go there and don't come back. It's a more dignified death. It's where we carried Chahta back to."

Standing alone with him, watching the sun light the cliffs ablaze, she had an urge to take his hand. That urge left almost as abruptly as it arrived, her heart contracting painfully. "If you're not a spiritwalker, can you get out of spiritworld once you've gone in, if you want to?" she asked, more to distract herself than anything else.

"Only if you can find the path back. Not a lot of people try it." He turned to her now. "But I point it out to you because if you are spiritwalker you can sense the place and what it is. If you are a skinwalker, they can't feel it when cloaked by a skin. But there all the illusions come down. Any skinwalker walking into that place dies like Tavibo."

"So if I have to run, come here."

"If you can keep ahead of them, yes." His tome warned her that she might not find that as easy as she thought.

But she had always been light on her feet and quicker than most of the girls her age, and she thought that she might have an advantage on most of them. "Well, I can try at least."

"I brought you here to show you that, and I think that it's just interesting," he said.

"It is. Worth getting out of bed for."

"I hope so," he said and smiled at her. Nascha didn't want to think about that smile just now. "Today we help them move and find a new place to camp. This may take a few days. Just so you know. You can go with Pezi if you are too bored, and run the spiritworld to see if Chogan is gone."

Nascha nodded. "I may want to go with him for a bit. Keep an eye on Chogan. But I'll be glad to be useful."

"We should go back, everyone's starting to get up," he said. They walked back in silence, and when the rest of the spiritwalkers were up (those that were married were allowed to sleep a bit later while they were in camp, it seemed) they set out to go find a new place to move the tribe to.

That took a half a day, and then they returned to help with the packing. People were still treating Nascha with a great amount of respect, but there wasn't the kind of fuss that had been made yesterday, to Nascha's relief. Right now, she could be an extra pair of hands. She got to know some people who she had seem only in the stories of her fellow spiritwalkers, as well. Adoeete's son was forty seasons old and tall for his age, bidding fair to take after his father.

On the second evening after a day of walking, Adoeete came to Nascha. "I'm leading a bison hunt tomorrow," he said. "Want to come?"

She had been sitting and watching a pair of babies being passed from lap to lap, the youngest members of the tribe being fussed over. Startled by the question, she jerked upright and looked him in the eye. She knew his favorite thing was a buffalo hunt, and she was surprised that she had been asked along. Woman didn't go on hunts; it just wasn't done.

Women don't become spiritwalkers either, she reminded herself. "I'd like to. I've never been on one before, though."

He waved off her concern. "You'll do fine. We leave before sunrise tomorrow, I'll come wake you up."

They rode out the next morning when dawn was only faded-star promise in the east, her and Adoeete and Sahale and four warriors on strong, swift horses. Una seemed to be glad to take to the swift pace that Adoeete set; it seemed that she was a little bored, traveling with the tribe.

As they rode, Adoeete told her about the hunt, how to choose a target and then stay out of its way while still bringing it down. Like wolves, they would choose the weak and the sick, the easy targets, and stay away from the herd's bull. They picked up herd sign about dawn and spent the rest of the day following, gaining gradually on the buffalo.

They caught up with the herd mid--afternoon. "That one," Adoeete said aloud, pointing. It was an older one, a big beast that was limping a little from a wound to one of its back legs.

The herd was a small one, perhaps forty animals in all, and it was collectively nervous. They rode towards the herd, fanning out, and the herd stampeded away from them. They swept in, cutting the wounded one off from the herd, firing arrows.

It was a great beast, shaggy coat hanging from it in shreds, small eyes rolling in panic. It ran and ran, and they chased it, and in the end it was an arrow from Adoeete into one of its eyes that ended the buffalo's life and sent it falling to the ground, crashing with a bone-shattering thud. Adoeete lifted his hands to the sky, calling out, joyous.

They dismounted and Nascha listened as Adoeete thanked the creature for the life it had given so that their families could live another day. Then it was on to the messy parts, gutting and cleaning the entrails. All of them ended up bloody and dirty, but it was with no small amount of pride that Nascha helped tie the carcass to the horses and haul it home. She could see why Adoeete loved the hunt. It was simpler than hunting men, and the decisions flowed easily.

They were welcomed back to the tribe, and the carcass was butchered and prepared, the long bones of the legs cracked for the fatty marrow. All ate well that night, and what was not eaten was preserved for later. They moved on the next morning, and Nascha noticed that she felt closer to Adoeete than she had before.

They traveled on for a few more days, Nascha going with Pezi several times to watch the Spanish camp and observe Chogan stubbornly refusing to leave, and finally arrived at the new camp. The army had moved to the south and east while they had been moving, and Pezi reported, the night that the rest of them stayed in the camp to help set up, that Chogan and the skinwalkers had finally left.

"We'll give them another day and make sure they don't turn back," Cheveyo said. "I want to go see the army for myself before I plan anything."

Pezi spent that night shadowing the army, and they waited through the next day. He reported at noon that Chogan had not returned, and Cheveyo declared that it was time for the paint to come out.

"I'll paint you," Cheveyo said with a smile. "Sit. Shouldn't take nearly as long this time."

He still spent some time touching her face with his hands before he started painting, reacquainting himself with the angles and curves of her face, her sitting with eyes closed, calm and quiet. "You should learn to paint my pattern, and the others'," he told her as he began to spread paint on her face. It was cool when it first went on, but warmed and dried quickly. "You never know when you'll need to put on someone's face."

"I can start with yours," she said. "After you've done mine." His hands paused, just for a moment, and she thought that he was going to say something. But he did not, and his fingers moved on her skin, drawing the owl feathers.

The tribe's children were fascinated, gathering around to stare and point fingers. When Cheveyo pronounced her done, she made faces at the closest of the children, who shrieked with laughter in response. "I remember your pattern," she said. "White face, red line, yes?"

He nodded, and she went hunting for the white paint as he settled in front of her. "Close your eyes," she said, and as he did so she reached out to run her hands lightly over his face. It still struck her as very intimate, sitting in such close proximity to him. They were a part of one another, they spoke to each other in their minds, and still, touching his face, it seemed as if the two of them were alone together in the universe right now, something more of them touching than just what the spiritwalker bond required.

She began painting, leaving a space to paint the red line. She wasn't very good at it but after asking for advice a few times she managed to replicate his pattern passing well. From the sounds of things, the others were done and getting ready to go, and without comment she rested her paint-stained fingers briefly on his knee and rose to go get her weapons.

They went into spiritworld and walked to the Spanish camp, arriving about dusk. They found a good vantage point to watch from, noting that there were guards on the four points. There were fifty men, maybe a few less, and some wounded, and the cooking fires were beginning to be fed.

"I'd like to go take a walk around the camp and see what the tracks tell me," she said to Cheveyo. He nodded and she began walking in spiritworld, keeping her eye on the ground. She came across the tracks of Chogan and company, their unshod, compactly built horses very clearly standing out from the horses that the Spanish used. She could see the horses springing to life, the weight of the men on them suggesting particular skinwalkers. But--wait. She paused, cocked her head.

One of the horses was not carrying anything other than a light pack. There was no rider. She checked and checked again, and the image refused to show her anything other than a spotted horse stretching out its legs, lighter of foot than its fellows.

"I think he left someone behind. I'll see if I can find him," she said, turning in towards the camp.

"It's probably a trap. He figures we will attack, and whoever is behind will give him the information. They will come out from spiritworld to attack." There was tension in Cheveyo's silent voice. "Forget him. Find the Spanish leader."

"I will," she said, and started scanning the ground. There were many tracks and they all crossed each other, resulting in images that flickered in and out of existence as men in hard boots walked around. She found one, finally, in boots a little bigger than the rest and carrying quite a weight, probably in metal. He had the biggest, best-shod horse, as well. She followed the flickering image to the largest tent, in the center of the camp.

The tent appeared to be occupied, from the light spilling out around the edges of the flap. "I found him. Do you want me to confirm he's in here?"

"No. Wait for Otaktay. He will be right there. Step from spiritworld and kill him."

"I will." She was pulling her hatchet out, force of new habit causing her to run her fingers over it, check the sinew that kept the head on the shaft. Nervousness gripped her, tightening her belly.

Cheveyo said, "Kill him and him alone unless you have to. We are going to lay down arrows and take as many with us as we can. Meet back here." He sent an image of a hill they'd passed. "Be out quickly. Chogan will be there shortly."

She took a deep breath, sending acknowledgement to Cheveyo and waiting for Otaktay. The big warrior arrived before she was finished drawing that breath. "Ready? Your kill," he added.

Her kill. She swallowed, trying to smile and not managing it. "Ready."

"Now."

They stepped through the tent wall and out of spiritworld. Inside the tent was a Spanish and a mostly naked native girl, and it was immediately apparent what had been about to transpire. The man had one hand down his pants and he was speaking in a low voice to the girl.

There was very little time, but Nascha glanced at the girl and saw with a shock that she recognized the girl. It was the same Sioux woman that Chogan had stolen when the skinwalkers had attacked the Sioux camp.

There was no time for anything else, as the Spanish noticed that they were in the tent and went for his un. He never made it. Nascha was on him, burying her hatchet in his throat. He gushed blood, choked, and collapsed. "What about the girl?" she asked Otaktay. The girl in question was scrambling for her dress, pulling it on.

"Pezi is the only one that can take her out of here," he said. "We can wait for Pezi, if you think you want."

She nodded. "How long until you can be here?" she asked Pezi.

"Heartbeats," he said, and appeared.

"This is the girl Chogan stole," she told him, and he nodded and took the girl by the arm.

Before he could step into spiritworld, Nascha felt more than saw Otaktay move, interposing his body between the flashing trajectory of a metal knife and Pezi. Pezi and the girl vanished as Nascha heard the thwock sound of the knife burying itself in Otaktay's chest.

From Spiritworld stepped Ohanzee, one of Chogan's. He was paying attention to Otaktay and none to her, and she ducked behind the big man, calling out to the rest, "Trap sprung! Otaktay's hurt--" and she sent out the image of what was going on, a moment of panic that Otaktay was beginning to slump forward, and Ohanzee was going to see her any moment.

Cheveyo appeared, Pezi on his heels. Ohanzee disappeared. "We have a few heartbeats," Cheveyo said, and Pezi slid under Otaktay's arm and disappeared with him. "Nascha, stay. Over there, sit like the girl was." he told her, and stepped back into spiritworld.

I'm bait. She scrambled for where the girl had been, shrinking back into the shadows, letting her fear show on her face. "When he turns to look at you, flash me the image," Cheveyo said, and she nodded. "I will."

It took only a handful of heartbeats for Ohanzee to come back. He glanced around, his eyes sliding over Nascha and dismissing her as the girl she was, not important in the least. Nascha flashed the image to Cheveyo--

And Cheveyo was there behind him, slitting his throat. "Blood for blood," he said as Ohanzee staggered and collapsed. "Time to go, Nascha." He grabbed her hand as if by reflex, and both of them moved into spiritworld, running.

Nascha's heart was still in her throat. Otaktay had been seriously hurt, and it was her impulse to take the girl that had made sure he was there at the same time as the knife. She worried--that had been a bad wound. Would he even survive it?

Pezi had taken Otaktay to the hill they'd agreed to meet at, and Cheveyo and Nascha met the rest there. Otaktay was lying on the ground, his wound making a horrible sucking noise when he tried to breathe. "Pezi, go get Hania," Cheveyo said. "Nascha, still with us?"

He'd dropped her hand when they'd stepped out here, and she nodded. Her throat was so dry. "I'm sorry I got Otaktay hurt."

"It's not your fault. Are you hurt?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, he never touched me."

"Can you go with Pezi, and bring back all the herbs Hania is going to give you?"

Nascha nodded. Pezi had been waiting, apparently aware that Cheveyo was going to send someone with him. "Yes, of course," she said, and turned to go.

"Nascha?" She paused, turned back towards Cheveyo. There was a strange look on his face. "You did the right thing."

Her shoulders sagged. "Thank you." Without further comment, she stepped into spiritworld with Pezi, and started running.

Spiritworld had never seemed to take so long to get somewhere before. They arrived in Hania's tent, explained what they needed, and the shaman filled her arms with bags of herbs and instruments. Pezi took Hania's arms and walked into spiritworld, and Nascha was right behind him.

Hania hadn't been prepared to come into spiritworld, and there had been no time to explain. Nascha heard Hania's exclamation of surprise and then all three of them were moving quickly, heading back towards the hill. They arrived only a small time after they'd left, but to Nascha it felt like hours or days. Otaktay was still alive, and Cheveyo had stopped the flow of blood from it. Hania inserted a reed into the hole and blew into it, opening the punctured lung back up as Cheveyo explained, and then started to stitching the wound closed.

Finally, it was done, and Otaktay lay quiet. "He could be fine or he could get infection," Hania said to Cheveyo. "Best not to move him much."

Nascha asked Cheveyo, "Can we find a good place to lie low until Otaktay heals?"

"We can find some shelter here and wait," he told her.

Nascha nodded and turned away, raising her eyes to look at the stars that were out now. Something inside of her still seemed to be cramped and twisted, and she opened and closed her hands. "You all right?" Cheveyo asked. His silent voice had the low tone to it that she had come to associate with him speaking only to her.

She didn't turn around, "I never killed a man with my own hands before. It feels--I don't know how to describe it. And I'm worried about Otaktay. What are we going to do with the girl, by the way?"

The killing gets easier. Either that is good news or bad, I could never tell. Otaktay is stubborn. Don't worry too much. The girl, her people are dead. I think we take her back to ours."

"That was what I was thinking." She turned to him now, seeing that he'd come up next to her. She smelled blood, and realized that it was on her hands and arms. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Can you talk to her?" Cheveyo asked.

"If I can find some common language, yes. I speak some Sioux, she might speak some Navajo." Nascha turned to look for the girl, and saw her sitting next to the low fire one of the others had started, watching them with a gravely wondering expression.

Cheveyo followed her gaze. "At least someone talking to her might make her feel better," he said.

She nodded, and stepped towards the girl. In the back of her mind, she felt again a throat being crushed and split open under her hands, the horror--and the savage delight--that had followed, when she knew he was dead. It felt like an open hole in her, and right now she desperately wanted Tse, or her mother, or anyone who could hold her and assure her that this would all end soon.

But Tse was dead, and this was no nightmare. So Nascha took a breath and went to talk to the girl.