Never doubting his wisdom, she had done exactly what he had told her to

do. Even so, she felt troubled at having to conceal her thoughts and

actions from Cadillac.

For had they not agreed to exchange the blood-kiss? Had they not been

as one between the fox and the bear? Was he 249

if not the strongest - the bravest, most valiant and stalwart of the

M'C, all warriors? And if he was not yet as wise as Mr Snow, was not

his tongue like sharp iron, and his head like a bright star? Did her

heart not warm at the thought of him?

Had she not pledged to guard him through all her days?

Yes... All this was true, and yet she felt confused, guilty.

Ever since she had gazed upon the cloud warrior across the firelit

circle on the night he had bitten the arrow, her heart had been torn in

two. She felt guilty because her mind harboured thoughts that the laws

of the blood-kiss forbade; images of lying in the moon-dark with the

Death-Bringer.

Images that brought her body to fever-heat. Cadillac's eyes were dark;

his were blue. It was like looking into her own eyes, reflected in the

untroubled surface of a shadowed rock pool. Cadillac's shoulders were

broad and square but were not his broader, squarer? And was he not

taller? Cadillac's hair was straight and dark as a raven's wing; his

hair rippled like a field of breadstalks in the wind. It shone like

grass struck by the rays of the rising sun, and his voice, ah... his

voice was strong and smooth like deep running water. It made her heart

tremble like the roar of a mountain lion and lit a fire in her belly

that caused the bones in her thighs to melt like snow.

No one had seen her on the occasions when she had crept into the

settlement under the cover of Mo-Town's starry cloak. She had crouched

outside Mr Snow's hut and listened to all they had said; had heard him

speak of the dark cities under the earth. The word-pictures he drew

had filled her with terror but she could have sat there for days on end

listening to the sound of his voice.

Some of her clan sisters, who suspected nothing, had said he had the

tongue of a viper, the smile of a coyote, and a heart of stone. Others

had told her that they had sent Night-Fever to test his manhood and

that he had spurned her. He fights well with a long stick, they said

mockingly, but there is no sharp iron between his legs: only a broken

twig.

Clearwater had joined in their laughter but chose not to believe

them.

She did not care that his blue eyes were veiled and his spirit

hidden.

She had looked upon him and sensed the power within; had felt his heart

quicken. And that was enough. The cloud warrior was, quite simply,

the most beautiful being she had ever set eyes on.

By the tribal laws of the Plainfoik, Clearwater knew that she merited

death at Cadillac's hand for harbouring such desires; knew also that

she would welcome death if it came to her while in the cloud warrior's

arms. The guilt engendered by these feelings and the torment caused by

their concealment had grown daily. Amazingly, no one seemed to have

noticed but she was sure that Mr Snow knew, in the same way that he

knew she and the cloud warrior were destined to meet.

Clearwater began to paint Cadillac's chest. As she charged the flat

sliver of wood with more dye she looked into his eyes and saw they were

focussed on the horizon of a world beyond that bounded by the reddening

sky." She traced two curving lines down the centre of his chest and

began to fill in the space between.

And she wondered if he knew that it was she who, hidden by the darkness

into which she had retreated, had silently summoned up the power within

her to save the cloud warrior from Motor-Head's hammer.

SIXTEEN

On the day after Steve's encounter with Clearwater, he took the map

from its hiding place and set off into the hills behind the

sett