Gerry William

fish are coming.”

“The signs are good. It will be a good year for our
people.”

“Sn-klip talked with only Horse. Perhaps the message
is only for him, not for our people.”

“We should think on this. Sn-klip’s boldness means
something. I will talk to our shaman, the #/ 'ekwelix. When we
gather again I will have some answers.”

* ¥ ¥ X

The fire came on the wind, twists of flames spiralling
north like the breath of a forest fire. Red tongues consumed
everything in their way. The syilx fled in groups, scattering
towards safety, but the flames increased, lifting people from
their feet and sending them into the sky to disappear within the
walls of fire. Other syilx, panicked beyond all reason, dove
into the river, only to be swept away both by water and fire.

A black shape emerged from the sky. From its gaping
mouth a tall woman strode towards Horse. She was one of
them, a syilx, and yet so strange in her clothes of shimmering
colours. She moved as the wind moved, a wave of motion and
heat. Horse felt her coming like the coming of the first horse.
The land shifted around the woman. Behind her loomed a
floating object larger than the great peaks east of the valley.

The woman bore the carriage and marks of a warrior, a
scar running down her left cheek.

“I welcome you to our land,” Horse managed to greet
the stranger.

The woman smiled and a warmth flooded through
Horse which had nothing to do with the tongues of flame
which continued to consume syilx everywhere.

“I have looked for you all my life,” the woman bowed.
“When I give to you, I give myself.”

“Good words. How may I help you?”

32