Spiritwalkers: Outcast, Part One

[aithne]

There was motion outside the wickiup, a familiar step that shook Nascha out of a sound sleep and into wakefulness. Her waking woke Cheveyo beside her, and he raised his head, listening. "Adoeete," he said silently, and rolled out of his blankets to pull on his pants.

She nodded, and as if in confirmation the footsteps stopped outside the wickiup. "Cheveyo," came Adoeete's voice. Cheveyo pulled aside the flap of the wickiup, looking at Adoeete with what expression Nascha could not tell. "The council needs to see you, Cheveyo."

Cheveyo nodded and stepped back, dropping the flap. "Here it comes," he said, without humor, as he reached for his shirt.

Nascha was sitting up now. "Going alone, then?"

"I will give you the running commentary. Get the rest of them up, I may want you to come in."

"I will. Good luck, Cheveyo," she said, and got up to give him a kiss and let him go. Then she got dressed, woke Ahiga, and went to wake the other spiritwalkers. They assembled on a place near the horses, all of them tense and silent. This day had been coming for some time, and most of them dreaded what would happen next.

Words and images began to come from Cheveyo, who was not standing in the center of a large wickiup, next to a sullen fire. There were men surrounding him, sitting mostly, most of them older. Adoeete stood stock-still in front of Cheveyo, his lean face still but his eyes alight with an expression that gave Nascha a chill to see.

Adoeete took a breath, and began. "The council feels you are reckless and have strayed from the path. You are on a vendetta against the Arapaho and you will only bring more death to the Apache. You have to be reminded to stock our winter stores and to stay with the tribe to guard as well as to strike at our enemies, but you only seem interested in striking." Adoeete's voice was under almost perfect control. Only someone who had once been bonded to him as a spiritwalker would have heard the nasty edge in his voice, a mixture of malice and self-righteousness. "Many on the council also question your choices for new spiritwalkers. On women, the council and I disagree, but they are nearly unanimous against me. But aside from that, Cheveyo, you have an Arapaho spiritwalker, a child, and one that should be sitting on the council, not out fighting again."

Cheveyo's voice also held an edge. This was a very old conflict between them, played out once more. "You and I have never seen in the same light. I see the future and what we could become. You are stuck in the past, doing what the ancestors did. Using ways that don't work anymore. The ancestors didn't have the Spanish or the white man to deal with. We do. Guns, horses, we have adapted. We need to do so again. But you and the council are just old men with vision that is failing to see beyond their noses."

There was an ugly mutter that circled around the tent at Cheveyo's words. Adoeete stiffened. "Step down, Cheveyo. Become the shaman you should be and let someone else lead the spiritwalkers."

"We still have work to do for your sake, whether you know it or not," Cheveyo told him.

A smile appeared on Adoeete's face. "Then you are relieved. We will find new spiritwalkers."

In the frozen silence that followed Adoeete's words, shock among the elders, Cheveyo said to them silently, "Come through spiritworld to the council wickiup." Nascha obeyed, the other ten spiritwalkers at her side. They ringed the fire, looking outward at the council. Nascha ended up at Cheveyo's right side.

Adoeete's eyes widened. "Women are not allowed in here."

She was looking at Adoeete now, without anger, just with thoughtfulness. She considered Adoeete, who despite his bluster and his weaknesses she still liked, though at the moment she was reconsidering that position. Cheveyo, beside her said, "They are not women, they are spiritwalkers."

Adoeete conceded the point with a curt nod. "If you leave, take your families with you. We will not provide for them."

"And you will lead the new spiritwalkers?"

"I assume, no one else has experience in doing so," Adoeete answered.

Cheveyo's silent voice was measured and calm, though she could feel the anger leashed beneath it. "I, Nascha and Ahiga have to do this," he said, keeping an eye on Adoeete but speaking so none not a spiritwalker could hear him. "The rest you can stay. I will think no different of you for staying."

Otaktay's answer was immediate and regretful. "My family is here."

"I understand, Otaktay. There is another possibility. If four of you stay or more, Adoeete will not become spiritwalker leader and there is no need to train more. So I will make this easier on you all. Zotum, take over. Otaktay, Pezi, Sahale, stay for sure. The rest stay or come with. But do so by entering spiritworld and leaving the camp." There were murmurs of assent, and Cheveyo spoke again, this time aloud. "It's has been decided. I step aside in favor of Zotum, who will lead the spiritwalkers with Otaktay, Pezi and Sahale. There is no need for Adoeete." Adoeete flushed, the light in his eyes going from malicious joy to rage. "We will be leaving." Cheveyo stepped into spiritworld and was gone, and Nascha followed.

In spiritworld, she could see that all of the spiritwalkers except the four that had been ordered to stay had followed. They stopped long enough to get the horses and their things and pack up Hania and his wickiup. Nascha wondered if Adoeete had realized that his order that the tribe would no longer take care of the families of any spiritwalkers that left would leave the tribe without a shaman. She rather thought not.

The load was distributed among the horses and Hania's own horse was fetched, a pretty paint mare. Nascha balanced Una's load, then scratched her behind the ears. Sadness tugged at Nascha. This tribe had become home over the last season, and it hurt to yet again lose a group of people she had grown attached to.

Una flicked her ears and snorted. Nascha turned to see Cheveyo approaching, evidently done with loading up his own horse. "We are free now to finish what we need to," he said silently, just to her.

"Will we ever be able to go back?" she asked, and the amount of pain she felt in her simple question surprised her.

"Someday, I think we will," he said, and there was an echo of her sadness in his voice. This was his home, the only tribe he'd ever known. Leaving had to be more difficult for him than for her. "This is best for now. They are protected by the others."

"And Adoeete has no say over what we do."

"No, he doesn't." He smiled briefly. "I can't blame him for what he thinks, but I see a different threat. He thinks that by letting it go, the problem will go away. But he hasn't seen the visions I have."

Nascha shook her head, disbelieving. "How can he see what Chogan has done and think that he's a problem that can be safely ignored?"

"He thinks he can avoid him, and with me and you gone, Chogan will concentrate on us and leave them alone."

"I think he's wrong," she said. "But I suppose he'll learn. I hope he learns before too many people die."

"Zotum will protect them. From Chogan, and Adoeete too."

She nodded, knowing that it could not be helped. "I hope so. So, what now? Skinwalker hunt?"

"First, we find a defensible location for Hania. He can't enter spiritworld and move like we do, without Pezi," Cheveyo said.

Nascha grimaced. "I'm going to miss having Pezi around."

"I will miss them all, but you can still talk. I left before the breaking ceremony. Adoeete will assume too much." He smiled, and Nascha smiled back. One last thing gotten by Adoeete.

"He never does look beyond his nose, does he?"

He chuckled. "No, he really doesn't. We will know more about the tribe this way than Adoeete will know about us."

"Might make him easier to handle for the ones left behind," she said, thinking about it. "Well, let's go. We probably have some days of riding ahead."

Cheveyo nodded, and they all mounted up and started riding south. They rode for most of that day, stopped to camp for the night, and then repeated the process. Nascha and Gosheven spent much of their time afoot, scouting on either side of their path for good places to set Hania up in. The second day revealed nothing, and the third day of riding was much the same.

That night, while they were cooking dinner and making camp, Cheveyo mentioned offhandedly to the group that Nascha was now his second. She was brought up short by this, looking at him in startlement, and then realizing, slowly, that there was nobody in their current group who had been a spiritwalker longer than her other than Cheveyo. "Were you testing me, before?" she asked him, after they had turned in for the night. "I got the feeling sometimes like you were trying to see if I'd make a good second."

"In a way, yes," he said. "I wanted to make sure that my feelings for you weren't clouding my judgment of your abilities. They weren't, by the way." He kissed her on the forehead. They were wrapped up in blankets together, and the sky above them was brilliant with stars horizon to horizon. There were ways in which the traveling they were doing now felt so much like what they had done after she had escaped and been found by the spiritwalkers.

Other ways, however, showed how far she had come. Cheveyo, away from the tribe and Adoeete and the pressures of trying to lead under such circumstances, seemed like a weight had been lifted from his body. He was more casually affectionate with Nascha, more inclined to drape an arm over her shoulders or take her hand at any opportunity. He smiled more, and even his walk had changed a bit. Nascha didn't mind in the least.

The next day, they found a good place to set Hania up in. It was near a clear stream, a sheltered area that was hard to see from the stream, with a patch of ground that was easily cleared to set the wickiup on. They set up, and spent the next week hunting and getting Hania what he would need to last for long periods alone. Hania didn't seem concerned about the prospect of solitude, mentioning that it would be nice to be able to do some extended work without having to worry about being interrupted.

Days, they worked; nights, she and Cheveyo would walk on the endless plains, talk about everything and nothing, hold hands, make love under the stars and the waning moon. To her surprise, a little bit of peace lifted burdens that she didn't even know she was carrying. She smiled more easily, laughed more. Ahiga, over dinner one night, mentioned that it was nice to see Nascha getting back to her old self.

It was cold at night now, and they woke every morning to frost riming the grasses. The days were still warm, but much cooler than they had been. Nascha found herself very grateful for Cheveyo's warmth at night.

She woke one morning to find that dawn was still a mere promise in the paling sky, and Cheveyo had propped himself on one elbow, looking down at her. His other arm was thrown over her. She murmured, rubbing her eyes, "Mmmmm. Morning. Are you all right?"

"My small portion of the world is quite lovely. But the rest of the world, not really," he said, reaching up to brush her hair out of her eyes.

Nascha felt a chill that had nothing to do with the frost. "No, it's not. What parts in particular are you thinking of?"

"One of my visions came true, I think, last night. I saw dreams of Ute dying to Chogan. He was wearing the face of Dichali."

She drew a breath inward. "The Ute will go after the Apache."

He nodded. "They will. But besides telling Zotum, nothing we can really do for now. But we need to look at the site. I still think it's a trap, but I feel that something there is important to us."

"We can be careful. I think we should go look," she said.

"We should. Have you thought more on Aquene?"

Nascha closed her eyes. "She's not suited for fighting. As time goes on, the idea of somehow getting her into the Arapaho camp keeps coming up. It would be even more dangerous than fighting, though. But possibly more to her abilities."

Cheveyo shifted, and Nascha opened her eyes as he pulled her closer. "Have you asked her?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, but I should."

"We have time yet," he said, and smiled. "Let's use the time wisely."

Nascha kissed him, wholeheartedly agreeing, and soon forgot all about the chill of the morning as they used the time they had to make love. After dawn came and the rest woke (those who hadn't been woken by the noise Nascha and Cheveyo were making), they gathered everyone up and explained where they were going.

Cheveyo led the way, since he'd been the one with the dream. It was a day's ride away, and they took the horses instead of walking on Cheveyo's orders. They found the former Ute camp exactly where he'd expected to find it, and in about the condition they had all expected. The whole place was burned, and there were bodies scattered, lying where they had fallen.

Chogan and his group were hitting larger and larger targets now; there had to be fifty people dead here, warriors, women, children. Everything was burned, and all the food was gone. Without being asked, fighting down the sickness in her stomach, Nascha went into spiritworld and started to do a slow spiral, tracking.

She found tracks of all eight of Chogan's people, and those who had helped them; more Arapaho warriors, these with guns. A lot of guns, and a lot of ammunition, from what she could tell. More guns from the Spanish. The spiritwalkers avoided a circle near the center of the camp; it seemed to have been the site of the shaman's tent, which had been burned later by the others. The body of the shaman was still there, but oddly, it seemed to have been partially covered by dirt.

That was interesting enough, all by itself. But then Nascha saw something out of the corner of her eye that made her frown. She was moving through a misty forest of images, Ute and Arapaho both. But there was one that was different. A single pair of tracks. Apache shoes.

Adoeete's image sprang into life before her.

He had evidently come out of spiritworld and was just standing there, shifting from foot to foot. He had arrived after the attacks and stood there for some time. Curious, Nascha stepped out in front of where Adoeete's tracks were. Chogan had stood facing him some distance away, within range for a conversation with raised voices to happen. "Adoeete was talking to Chogan, here," she reported to the rest. "It wasn't a cozy conversation, but it must have been a conversation. Might have been trying to negotiate, or maybe he thought Chogan was someone else."

Ahiga said, "Can't be, he wouldn't come all this way without knowing he was coming to see him. He had to know it was Chogan."

"And he knows Dichali is dead, so wearing Dichali's skin wouldn't have fooled him." Nascha shook her head. "I think it was a negotiation. Probably telling Chogan that we'd gone off on our own."

Cheveyo said, "Trying to make peace with him for the things we may do to him. He will give us up, if he finds us. It would be Chogan's request. Peace, for us."

"So he'll be looking for us," Nascha said, and laughed dryly. "I can't believe he would think that Chogan would keep that promise."

The rest had gathered at the center of the burned camp, and Nascha stepped over to them. "He may not," Cheveyo said. "He is buying time for something. Training more spiritwalkers, they should be eight but four is minimum."

"These of his choosing. That's going to make us being in contact with the other hard to hide--if they can even finish initiation, which they might not be able to do without us telling our stories. They'll be able to hear the ones that are there, not us."

Cheveyo nodded. "The new will know that they are talking to someone else, which will get back to Adoeete. And he will then toss Zotum and the rest out."

"And take over," she said, quietly.

"Yes. I will tell Zotum to be careful. Might be something else, but until we know more about his plans, we are going to have to consider Adoeete an enemy."

Nascha hated the necessity of it, but she bowed her head in acknowledgement. "I don't like it, but we have no choice at this point. Zotum can delay in finding new spiritwalkers, and choose the new ones carefully."

"It could take him weeks or months, but not much longer."

She nodded. "In the meantime, they can try to find out what Adoeete is doing." She took a breath. "I think we're only going to be able to go back if he steps down, or dies."

Cheveyo inclined his head. "Or we kill him."

"Well, I was including that possibility in him dying. I don't like the idea, but it may be necessary." She swallowed, and said, "There's something else interesting to look at. Might take me a few minutes."

She stepped into the burned tent where the skinwalkers had avoided walking, bending to look at the dirt-covered body of the shaman. He was lying on his side, his face obscured by the dirt. Nascha could see his hands, and they were not the hands of an old man. The fatal wound had probably been the arrow in his abdomen, under his ribs. He had a few other hatchet wounds, but it looked like his death had been slow and painful.

Nascha tripped as she backed away from the body, making a surprised sound. There was a rock under her feet where one was not supposed to be. She brushed the dirt away from it and saw that it was a round creek rock.

Nobody camped in even a dry creek bed, so this stone had to have been brought here. Brushing more dirt away, she found that there was a ring of stones that would have marked the inside edge of the shaman's tent. It was a medicine wheel, it looked like. The Utes used them far more than the Navajo, who were more inclined towards painting with brilliantly colored sand, but she knew the basic principles, and the stones themselves seemed to know where they belonged in the pattern. Curious, she began to repair the wheel.

It took very little time to fix the wheel, and once the last stone was in place, Nascha started to feel a little strange. Dizziness washed over her, followed by a skin-prickling sensation like the beginnings of a fever. Things were moving at the edges of her vision, like spirits walking past, but she was only catching glimpses of them.

"This is really strange," she said to the rest. "It's sort of like spiritworld is overlapping into this world here."

Okomi, who was nearby trying to salvage some arrows, looked at her. "Medicine wheel?"

"Yes, I just put it back together," she said.

"The Ute and the Sioux use them to enhance the journey into spiritworld," he said. "Makes them more powerful."

"So the skinwalkers would have avoided this place because the barrier is thin here, and they can't risk being seen for what they are," she said. Experimentally, she pushed into spiritworld, and nearly fell over. The usual resistance that she needed to push through to get to spiritworld wasn't there. "You know, I think it would be very easy to accidentally step into spiritworld from here," she said, looking around her.

"How's your tracking?" Cheveyo asked.

She frowned and looked around, staring down at the prints at her feet. All around her, images sprang into life. She saw the shaman, his face clear and strong, take the first hit from a bow. He had been young, about Cheveyo's age. The shaman staggered in pain, and Nascha looked up and away, putting the scene into reverse. Where had that arrow come from?

Halian, one of the skinwalkers, came into view. The arrow had come from his bow, and as she let the scene run forward again, she saw him pull his hatchet and step into the circle. Immediately, the skinwalker doubled over, almost dropping his hatchet. His face was starting to contort, taking on a bear shape.

The skinwalker back up quickly, and the contortion stopped. Half of his face was covered with bear hair, and the other half looked burned. Halian had stayed in the area for a few minutes more, fighting warriors who had come to defend the shaman, and she saw that the hair faded but the burn remained.

She showed the others those images, and said, "That's strange, I shouldn't be able to see the shaman's face, I didn't know him. And I can see why the skinwalkers avoided this place."

"It hurts them. Bringing your ability stronger. It would probably change them permanently or kill them. A weapon against them," Cheveyo said, musing.

"Yes, good to know." She stepped out of spiritworld and out of the circle. "I can't imagine living inside that medicine wheel. It feels very strange. The rest of you should step inside and see."

Cheveyo nodded. "The rest of you go ahead. I see enough, I don't want to see more."

Everyone else steeped into the circle, one at a time. For Wahcommo, Ahiga, Gosheven, and Okomi, the circle didn't make much difference. When Aquene stepped into the circle, though, something definitely happened. A feeling of peace washed over all of them, a feeling so profound that all of them simply sat down to look at Aquene, who was standing in the center of the circle, looking like she wasn't quite believing what she was seeing.

It was her talent magnified a thousand fold. She could just about stop a battle in progress, Nascha thought as Aquene stepped out of the circle and the feeling of peace faded, leaving a longing for more in its wake that lingered and then faded as well. "I think with that, you could make just about anyone sit down and listen, Aquene," Nascha said, smiling.

"Should have known that when I was younger for my father," Aquene said, returning her smile.

Delsin was next, and he stepped into the circle and turned around, a strange look coming over his face. Then he smiled, and Nascha abruptly felt the sky pressing down on her head like a hand. Spiritworld felt very far away, as if something she had grown used to always being close by had suddenly been taken away. The voice of the others, silent surprised murmurs, suddenly felt distant and then faded into silence.

Nascha's eyes widened. "I think, Delsin, that we just found out what your ability is."

"To stop people from using their abilities," he said, his voice wondering. She knew that Delsin had accepted what he'd seen as his lack of a talent with grace, but she wondered now if that also hadn't made him feel like he was somehow left out. Better late than never, and this is going to be very, very useful, she thought to herself.

"I wonder if you could direct it at people, or if it just works on everyone around? Try directing it at me alone," she said, encouraging.

Cheveyo spoke up. "Let me, actually. If he can stop me from seeing visions even stronger than I do. That could be useful." Fitting actions to words, he stepped into the circle next to Delsin, and immediately closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain, his silent voice rising in a cry though he did not call out aloud. Delsin stared at him for a few seconds, frowned, and then grabbed Cheveyo's head with both hands.

Cheveyo's silent voice stopped, and he opened his eyes. "Works," he said aloud.

"Are you not seeing any visions at all now?" Nascha asked.

"Nothing."

"Useful," she said silently, and the rest nodded--even Delsin, who could hear her even as he was using his talent on Cheveyo. "So maybe, if you need to, you can direct it against the skinwalkers. That would be useful," she said, speaking aloud again.

"Stop them from escaping," Delsin said, thoughtful. "Or shutting down what they can do."

An idea occurred to Nascha. "If you shut them down while in spiritworld, I wonder if their skinwalking would fail? If it does, they'd be killed."

"They may fall out of spiritworld but they couldn't get back in either," Delsin said.

Cheveyo freed himself from Delsin and stepped out of the circle. "Give it a try, Nascha," he told her.

She pushed into spiritworld. "All right, try directing it at me," she said.

Delsin stepped into spiritworld and touched Nascha's arm. She was forcibly thrown out of spiritworld as if the realm itself had rejected her. She fell with such force that the initial impact with the ground knocked the wind out of her, and she rolled a few times through the soot and the dirt of the burned camp before she came to a stop and remembered how to breathe. "Sorry," Delsin called, stepping out of spiritworld.

"It's all right. I'd say it works." She picked herself up and dusted herself off, and tried to transfer back into spiritworld while he still had his attention on her. Nothing. She was stuck.

It was, to be honest, a very disturbing feeling. "Can't get back in. Good job, Delsin." He let her go, and thankfully the sensation of spiritworld being a heartbeat away returned within a moment. "I think we found the important things, here."

"Home, then," Cheveyo said. "Okomi, see us after evening's food."

Nascha glanced at him--she had no idea what he was up to, and he seemed disinclined to talk about it. They transferred into spiritworld, and Cheveyo caught up with her, taking her hand in his. Wahcommo rode by on his black stallion, waving. "That horse moves way too fast in here," she said, laughing and waving at Wahcommo who vanished within heartbeats.

"It's getting used to it too," Cheveyo said. "He will be able to travel much farther than any of us soon. I wonder if he could take more horses on the wheel."

"He might be able to take the whole herd," she said. "Might be time for him to start taking the rest of the horses into spiritworld." The continued talking all the way back, and before they transferred out of spiritworld Cheveyo caught her up in his arms, kissing her soundly, and then transferred out.

Nascha smiled, a bit bemused, and followed. The afternoon was spent training, with her teaching the others some things and Ahiga putting them all through their paces in fighting, and then she and Cheveyo wandered off together for a while, finding some shade to curl up in together. Cheveyo seemed tense, tenser than he had been since they had left the tribe, and Nascha was almost afraid to ask.

They came back in time for the evening meal, tonight prepared by Ahiga and Gosheven. Afterwards, when all were occupied with the usual after-dinner pursuits, Okomi came to sit with Nascha and Cheveyo.

He had changed since they had found him; he had been thin then, and most of a season of regular meals had put some weight back on him, though he was still lean. He wore his hair now in Apache-style braids, or loose when he had the chance, and tended to wear clothing that covered the tattooed circles on his shoulders.

But nothing could cover the look he got sometimes, when he thought of his wife, anger and determination and sorrow at war with each other in narrowed eyes and hardened mouth. Right now, though, he looked a little worried as he sat down.

Cheveyo waited a moment until he was settled and then spoke. "You know what we are doing. Chogan and his skinwalkers need to leave this world. You have lived with them. I need to know everything you know about them. Family, other things we can use against them."

Okomi's eyes narrowed, and he nodded. Nascha fought a bit of sorrow for this man who had come so far to be with them. This was the final test for him; he had not been asked for this before, because it would be asking him to betray his former tribe completely. He had reason, but Nascha felt for him. "Would it be easier to tell it like we told our stories at initiation?" she asked, a bit hesitantly.

"It might, in images," Okomi said.

Nascha offered one of her hands to Okomi, and said, "If you're willing."

"I am." He took her hand, and one of Cheveyo's and the images started to form.

There was Chogan as a young man, handsome and a very good warrior but also brutal, with a temper that often got the best of him. There was his father as well, a hunter, very strict and very quick to punish any minor wrongs. There were suspicions that he was beating Chogan, but Chogan would never say anything and nobody ever caught him. His younger brother, Halian--there were a cascade of images there, shyer than Chogan, with a softer mouth and less of a temper. Chogan caught their father beating Halian one day, went into a rage, and killed him. His mother refused to speak to him anymore, and Chogan moved into his own place that day.

There had been no censure of Chogan, since Halian's broken nose and blackened eyes spoke eloquently of what had happened. But Halian and Tavibo, the youngest brother, had stayed behind with the mother, and Chogan lived on his own for years.

Their mother had died of the spotted fever years after Chogan became a spiritwalker. There was not even enough forgiveness in him to attend her death ceremony, it seemed. He and Halian became friends again after she died. Tavibo held on to the hate for a few more years, but eventually he gave it up as well. The two younger brothers became spiritwalkers soon after.

Chogan, she saw, went through wives like water. All of the women he took to wife ended up dying in some manner. The first one was the only one he'd likely loved, but his temper nearly uncontrollable. He nearly got turned out for beating her, and soon after that she disappeared. Whether she ran away or died, nobody knew.

Halian was married, but had no children yet. He took after his brother and obeyed him without question in all things, except for beating his wife; he seemed to really love her. She was a plain woman with an easy humor about her, named Ahawi. Tavibo, when he had died, hadn't had a chance to get married yet. He had been waiting until a captive was found that suited him, it seemed.

We killed his brother, Nascha thought, remembering Tavibo being torn apart by the spirits. I am so glad I ran away, though. I would have ended up dying like the rest.

Tokala was the next face that Okomi showed them. He'd had a better life once, had been a quiet man with a smile that came rarely but was always heartfelt when it did. Seasons with Chogan had changed him, turned him bitter and hateful towards himself. He had a wife and children but did not stay with them when the skinwalkers were at home, choosing instead to camp away from the rest. Okomi's opinion was that he hated himself for what he was, but saw no good way out for him.

Chuslum was the next face, a huge, bull-like man who was nearly as quiet as Tokala. He'd lost his wife and small boy in a Sioux raid, and had never truly recovered. Okomi thought that was why he had chosen Sakhyo, and why he had defended her against the rest. He followed Chogan, but he questioned him frequently. They had to take their arguments to council on a regular basis, and Chogan almost always lost. They seemed to have the same relationship that Cheveyo and Adoeete had, each of them with their ideas about what was best for the tribe.

Chunta had been bad to begin with. Okomi remembered him as a child, lying and stealing. As a man, he was the kind of person who would rather kill an enemy facing away from him than towards him. He had a wife, a very pretty woman named Helaku, who he had taken with him on raids. He took her out to show her off on occasion, but would always end such outings in a jealous rage at the admiring glances she attracted. He kept her locked away, most of the time. They had no children as far as Okomi knew.

Eyanosa had been big and strong from the time he could walk, and had been friends with Chuslum since childhood. He had few friends, and his parents and siblings had been killed in an Apache raid years ago. His life was dedicated to killing Apache; he had nothing else, no wife or children. He was an even-tempered warrior, hard to rile even in the heat of battle.

Ituha's image came clear with a feeling of cautious respect and disappointment from Okomi. He was the oldest in seasons, with children but no wife at the moment. His oldest boy Gad was nearly a warrior himself, and wanted to become spiritwalker. Ituha discouraged him, for reasons that had mystified Okomi at the time but now no longer did. His father was on the council, and Ituha's loyalties were very likely split.

His wife had died, but Okomi didn't know how. She had simply been there one day and gone the next. Rumor had it that she had died of a disease or in her sleep; the other, quieter rumor was that Ituha had suffocated her.

Skah's image was accompanied by a surge of rage and hatred from Okomi. They knew much of Skah's story already, about him and Okomi never getting along and what had happened because of it. Skah had never married, seemingly never wanted anyone but Isi, who'd had the good sense to marry Okomi instead. He was mean to the core, liked to hurt people and break things to upset people. Jars and bowls were never safe when Skah was around.

Cheveyo and Nascha sat for a few minutes, absorbing this. "I assume Chogan's first wife was Arapaho--were all the other captured?" Nascha asked.

Okomi nodded. "Yes, by him."

"Did they have anything in common that you could tell?"

The lean man looked thoughtful. "They were all like you. Something more behind the eyes. This might sound strange to say, but they all felt the same."

It was something Nascha had been wondering about, though it was somewhat startling to have it confirmed. "He must be picking out women with the potential to be spiritwalkers. Maybe in hopes of having children like him."

"Or killing them," Cheveyo added. "If they have potential and he knows that somehow something bad is going to happen to him because of one, he may be looking for the one that he needs to kill. But it may take him some time to figure that out. So he captures them, marries them and then finds out if they are the one or not."

"Well, maybe it'll be the one that got away that does him in," she said with a smile she didn't really feel. "He didn't act how I was expecting after he captured me, but it's consistent with that explanation."

"And that may be why he stopped. So he has more reason to be after you, than just you escaping."

She made a face. "Yes. Strange that he didn't manage to track me down right after I escaped. He should have been able to."

Cheveyo shrugged. "Maybe he can't, or thought you would die out there."

Well she had been under the impression she was going to die, she wasn't surprised that Chogan had jumped to the same conclusion. "He probably figured I'd die trying to find help. Overconfident, that one. And who would have expected that a band of spiritwalkers would come by and take me in? You might not even have seen me, and when you did you might have left me to die."

"That was a possibility," Cheveyo said. "Who, as Adoeete said, in their right mind asks a woman? Besides me that is." He smiled, and Nascha chuckled a little and smiled back, though her smile was still a bit weak. The knowledge of Chogan and his men was sitting in her stomach like stone, making her wish she hadn't eaten dinner. She wondered how Okomi stood knowing so much about these people.

"Only you, which is why it's reasonable that Chogan would believe I'd die on my own," she said.

"If not for the visions you might have."

Nascha nodded. "Well, evidently he doesn't see things like you do. At least, if he does, he sees different things."

"He may only see the potential for one." Cheveyo let go of Okomi's hand, and Nascha did the same, though she kept hold of Cheveyo's hand and wriggled a little closer to him. "We have choices to make. What do you want to try to do?"

"Go after the worst, first," she said. "I almost want to try to pull off a selective raid that might not bring all of them at once--Okomi's wife might bring Skah without the rest, at least long enough for us to kill him. It's risky, though. Okomi, we're thinking about trying to get Aquene into a place where she can influence the skinwalkers. Is there any way to get her into the Arapaho without her getting killed?"

"All the ways are risky, but Ituha is your best choice though the skinwalkers," Okomi replied. "Otherwise, the regular warriors, but they are risky too. She just walks in there and Chogan will think she is a plant, having seen her before."

"And letting her be recaptured is very risky. Though less risky than it would be for most."

"Chogan did take a liking to her before the Spanish did, yes?"

She remembered Aquene's story. "He did. Which is partially what I'm worried about."

Okomi smiled briefly. "Ituha's wife looked like Aquene. He might defend her, and he might not."

Nascha sucked her breath in between her teeth contemplatively. "If she gets recaptured and knows that about Ituha, she might be able to influence him to protect her--especially since he has reason to feel a connection to her already. Just like she'll often get me to stop training with her and start talking, a lot of the time."

"Or make us sit down and gaze at her before," Okomi added.

"It's very risky, and as much of a battle as we fight with arrows and hatchets," Nascha said. "But I think it might be the battle that Aquene is best suited for. If she gets inside, she can tell us when they move, and influence them into going off alone--or just into releasing those they're holding."

Cheveyo briefly tightened his grip on Nascha's hand. "It's risky to her no matter what you do. But it is a better chance to get them out, Okomi's wife and your cousin and her child."

Aquene's fight. Nascha rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "I think so. If she agrees, and I definitely want to let her know all the risks before she says yes or not."

"Now?" Cheveyo asked.

"I think so." Silently, she called Aquene. "Could you come here? We have a plan to propose."

Okomi excused himself as Aquene came over, the two of them exchanging a long look before Aquene settled down where Okomi had been sitting, and the former Arapaho disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the fire. Nascha reached out, and Aquene took her hand. Aquene's hands were so much smaller than the men, but there was an unyielding strength in them. "There's something that we think you can do, using your abilities," Nascha said. "It's very, very risky, and I don't want your answer on it right away. If we can get you into the Arapaho camp, you may be able to influence the skinwalkers into letting those they're holding go." She Began to spin out all of what she knew about the situation to Aquene, who absorbed everything. As the images went on, Nascha realized Aquene's eyes were growing brightly avid.

"It's risky, and Chogan knows me," she said, after giving it a moment's thought. "But I didn't know what I could do before. I can do it more accurately now and willfully, so I should be all right. How do you think you are going to get me in?"

Aquene's dark eyes were on Nascha's face, studying her. She felt so small in comparison to the trust that Aquene placed in her, sometimes. "I was thinking about arranging for you to be recaptured. We want Ituha to be among those who find you. If we know where they're going to strike next, maybe we can arrange for you to be among the survivors."

"Which is possible. I am willing to try it. Even if we get just one, it will be worth it."

"Are you sure, Aquene?" Nascha asked.

Aquene inclined her head solemnly. "I am. They have killed so many, and will keep doing it. They killed my family, my whole tribe. Even one for my life is worth it."

"All right. Cheveyo, is it possible for you to find out who the next target for a raid is?" Nascha asked.

He nodded, as if he had known all along the question that came next. "Sioux tribe, tonight. I already have seen it."

She took a startled breath, her heart abruptly pounding and the stone in her stomach shifting. "It would be easy enough for Aquene to slip in in the confusion, especially if it's at night."

Cheveyo's look for her was filled with understanding. "It will be soon. We will have to make it look like she has been in battle or dirty at the least."

"Not difficult. The world's full of dirt, after all," she said, with the edge of a smile.

Cheveyo gave a light snort. "True enough, some of it even walks like men. We will have to be very careful though and watch her. Adoeete may have told Chogan about her."

"We can do that. Gosheven can probably get very close in spiritworld and watch without being seen," she said, thinking about it hard, weighing secrecy and their talents against those they knew so well as enemies and not at all as friends.

"I think that's good, and Aquene should be able to step into spiritworld if something goes wrong. We will need to move closer to her. I don't want to waste minutes getting to her from here."

"We can do that, Hania will be all right on his own for a while."

"He will," Cheveyo said. He took a deep breath. "Let's get ready for her to go. The raid is soon."

"Sounds good. I'll let the others know what we're doing," Nascha said, letting go of his hand and rising. Now that it was decided, she wanted to get moving. If she were in motion, she would have fewer chances to second-guess herself.

But before she went with Aquene to go find some convincing dirt, she gave the other woman a long hug. There were no words between them, but that was all right. There did not have to be.

They rode to the Sioux camp, Cheveyo leading them, and found a good, quiet place to watch from. They were silent and tense, and Nascha had thought Aquene would look scared.

Instead, she looked determined. The only sign of nervousness in her was the restless way that her gaze traveled across the camp.

"Skinwalkers coming," Pezi said, and they all hunkered down. All eight skinwalkers arrived, surrounding the camp,, and the slaughter began.

It was the most difficult thing Nascha had had to watch for a long time. The skinwalkers killed with guns, hatchets, knives, anything that came their way, flickering in and out of spiritworld. They were very good at killing, and most of them at least seemed to relish it. Nascha watched Chogan fell a woman and then shoot the child that scampered away from the woman's side. He laughed as the little boy sprawled awkwardly on the ground, then turned and killed the warrior that had come up behind him while he was distracted.

Between kills, the skinwalkers looted, making a pile of what they were taking with them and burning the rest. The battle was winding down as Aquene nodded to them all and got up, heading down the hill into the now-burning camp. Ituha was hunting for survivors, and Aquene dropped out of spiritworld and into a prone position in the ash of a burned-out wickiup.

Ituha found her as she rolled over and opened her eyes up look up at him, raised his hatchet to dispatch her, and then froze for a long moment. Aquene was sending images of what she was seeing, and Ituha's mouth worked for few heartbeats, as if he were a contrite colt.

Finally, he lowered his hatchet. "Aquene, that is where you got off to. Chogan will be pleased to see you again. So am I, for that matter. Let's go." He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet as she whimpered.

He hauled her over to where Chogan stood, and when Chogan recognize Aquene his dark eyes went avid and possessive. He was almost licking his lips in anticipation. Nascha gritted her teeth, waiting--and Aquene let them hear Ituha claiming her. "You gave her away, you have no claim. I found her."

Chogan argued, but one by one the other skinwalkers arrived and sided with Ituha, ganging up on their leader. He relented, saying with poor grace that he hadn't really wanted her anyway, there was a reason he hadn't kept her. The horses were packed, and Aquene was hauled up onto the back of Ituha's horse. Chogan had another prisoner, a woman who he must have chosen for her talent because she wasn't pretty in the slightest. They rode away north, disappearing into the distance.