People of the Nightland (North America's Forgotten Past) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear Page A

she had to drape her sleeve over her nose.
    We live a nightmare. Wolf Dreamer? What have we done to anger you so?
    To keep herself standing, Skimmer concentrated on hate. Hatred of all the Nightland People—but especially Ti-Bish and the Nightland clan Elders. She had been plotting the Prophet’s murder. It was not an easy task. Nashat rarely allowed the Prophet to appear in public, and then only when thoroughly protected by guards. And always, always, with Nashat at his side. But she’d find him vulnerable someday.
    “Where’s Windwolf?” Kicking Fawn moaned. “Has anyone heard? Where’s War Chief Windwolf?”
    Hunched and haunted, Kicking Fawn stood only a few hands away from Skimmer, her eyes fixed intently on the ground. Matted hair—spruce needles still visible—hung down over her ears. Several times on the journey north, the traitor, Goodeagle, had taken her off in the trees. Each time she had come back with an ever-greater distance in her eyes.
    Skimmer tried to pry her eyes away, but couldn’t. Kicking Fawn had been vivacious and beautiful. Could this empty-eyed woman be the same quick-witted, smiling Kicking Fawn? Her daughter, Swan, a girl of nine, stood beside her. She patted her mother’s hand. “He’s coming, Mother. I know he is. He’ll be here soon.”
    “He’s coming?” Kicking Fawn’s eyes lit with hope. “Someone told you?”
    “Yes,” Swan said, but she was obviously lying. “I heard it only moments ago. He’s coming.”
    “Windwolf is coming,” Kicking Fawn sighed. “He’ll save us. He’ll kill these Nightland dogs.”
    “Yes, now, don’t worry. Why don’t you try to sit down?”
    By midnight, Kicking Fawn’s soul had drifted loose. She screamed, “Sunpath People, I see a giant wave rolling down over us! It’s huge! Don’t you see it?”
    Kicking Fawn pointed toward the Ice Giants. “Oh, Spirits, we can’t escape!”
    Worried mutterings erupted as the packed women staggered, pushing each other, straining to see where Kicking Fawn pointed. When they discovered only blue-white mountains of ice, they turned sharply, staring.
    “Can’t you see it? What’s the matter with you?” Kicking Fawn shoved Swan away and fell to the ground. She covered her head and writhed as though in the throes of a fit.
    Swan stared fearfully down at her mother.
    At first people only stood quietly, riveted by terror, but as the woman’s wailing grew to hideous shrieks, someone shouted, “Stop her! I can’t stand it!”
    “Bright glittering water, it fills the whole sky!”
    Swan stroked her hair tenderly, “Mother, please, it’s all right. There’s no water. You’re just tired and thirsty. We—”
    “Oh, Blessed Ancestors have pity. Have pity!”
    “She’ll drive us all mad!” Mole, a woman from the Black Elk band, wailed. “Someone shut her up!”
    Swan tried to calm her mother. “Stop this, Mother. You’ll use up your strength.You have to save your strength or you’ll die like grandmother. You—”
    “Can’t you see it?” Kicking Fawn asked in an agonized whisper.
    “The sky is empty, Mother. Just a few Cloud People, that’s all.”
    Kicking Fawn suddenly sat up and screamed, “What’s the matter with you all? The wave comes from the caves of the Nightland. They’ve sent it to destroy us!”
    “I don’t care if you have to kill her,” a dirty-haired woman named Kite shouted. “Keep her quiet!”
    Swan looked up, eyes wide, moonlit tears glistening on her cheeks.
    Some woman Skimmer didn’t know hauled back and kicked Kicking Fawn in the mouth.
    Swan gathered her mother in her arms protectively, sobbing, “Don’t hurt her! The warriors killed the rest of our family. She’s crazy from the pain!”
    White Bat, once a good friend, thrust a finger into Skimmer’s face, saying, “You’re a chief ’s wife. Make her stop!”
    “Stop her yourself,” Skimmer whispered, and looked away. “Where were you when we tried to rally our people to fight the