He felt a pounding pain in the back of his skull as his vision cleared. The ache from being hit with a rifle butt had come back. He heard gasps of dismay from some of the watching women, laughter from others. Wind Bends Grass called out scornfully, "I am ashamed to call this fool my daughter. I cast her out of my lodge because she would accept no suitors. At last comes the one who ruined her for all the others, and she drives him away with a rock. I think we should throw rocks at her." The crowd's laughter was louder, although White Bear saw that Wind Bends Grass did not mean to be funny. His left cheekbone throbbed, the cheek Raoul's knife had scarred, and he felt a trickle of blood. But he would not let himself lift his hand to wipe it away. Redbird's hand went up to her own face, as if the rock had hit her. Her slanting eyes widened with a look of horror. She whirled and ducked through her dark doorway. "Go in there after her, White Bear!" one of the women called. He would not do that. He would not go into her wickiup until she invited him. And in spite of the heaviness in his heart, in spite of the ache in his cheekbone and the pounding in his head, he believed that sooner or later invite him she would. He turned his back on the empty doorway and sat down again. The blue-eyed, brown-skinned boy was standing before him. A golden glow filled White Bear's chest. "You are hurt," said the boy. "It is nothing, Eagle Feather. A man must endure pain without complaint." "Did my mother do that to you?" "She wanted to punish me for staying away from you and her for so long. My name is White Bear." "I know what your name is." When he heard that, he was sure that he would win her back. The boy darted around him. Resting his hands on his knees, White Bear closed his eyes and let his mind dwell on a vast white-furred shape. Owl Carver had said that when a man wished to send his spirit on a journey in the other world, he need only think of his other self. He saw the huge golden eyes, the massive, long-muzzled head, the towering body. Soon he and the Bear spirit were walking together toward the sun. * * * * * Redbird did not understand herself. She hated White Bear, but when she saw blood running down his face, she had hated herself. She sat in darkness, biting her lips to keep from screaming. She crept to the doorway and pushed the curtain open a crack. She could see him sitting again with his back to her, his shoulders broad in his green pale eyes' coat. She drew back into the wickiup and saw the small steel knife she used to cut up food gleaming near the embers of her fire. She picked it up and held its edge against her feverish cheek. The last light of day fell on her as the doorway curtain rose. Startled, she almost cut herself. She whirled to see Eagle Feather staring at her. She threw the knife down on the straw-covered floor. Eagle Feather gave her a questioning look but said nothing.