Spiritwalkers: Deceiver, Part One

[aithne]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He wants something," Cheveyo replied.

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

"Don't get killed," Cheveyo said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Delsin.

First light of morning, please don't--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Name them," Chogan replied.

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

"Done," Chogan said, almost smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

Usti went down without a cry.

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

Chogan said, "Gotara."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheveyo shook his head. "Not your fault."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Greetings, Coyote," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

They had found Coyote's chosen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The chosen charged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded vigorously. "All right. When?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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