with white fur. Claws gleamed on his shoulder.

He looked up. And up.

Above him, golden eyes blazing, black jaws open and white teeth
glistening like spearpoints, towered a Bear.

Gray Cloud was in the presence of a spirit so mighty that his whole body
seemed to dissolve in dread. He wanted to shrink into himself, bury his
face in his arms. But he had no power over his limbs.

The Bear's paw on his shoulder lifted him, raising him to his feet.
Together they walked out of the cave.

What had happened to the clouds and the snow?

The sky was full of stars that swept down to form a bridge ending at his
feet. The starlight cast a faint glow over the ice on the river, and he
could see the horizon and the opposite shore. Through the dusting of
tiny sparkling lights, he saw the ledge outside the mouth of the sacred
cave. Two steps forward and he would fall over the edge and be killed.

The White Bear, on all fours beside him now, seemed to be waiting for
him. Gray Cloud knew, somehow, what was expected of him. He must put his
feet on the bridge of stars and walk out over empty air. He could not do
it. Terror clawed at his stomach as he thought of standing high above
the river with nothing to support him.

This, too, was a test. The bridge would be safe only if Gray Cloud
trusted it. From now on everything that happened to him would be a test.
And if he did not master each one in turn, he would never be a shaman.

And what would he be, then, if he lived? Only a half-breed boy, the son
of a woman with no husband, the child of a missing father. The boy they
called Gray Cloud because he was neither one color nor the other,
neither white nor red.

This trail was the only way for him. He must walk on this bridge, and if
he fell and died, it would not matter.

He took the first step. For a terrifying moment his moccasin seemed to
sink into the little sparks of light rather than rest upon them. But it
was as if the bridge were made of some springy substance, and the sole
of his foot did not fall through it. He took another step. Now he had
both feet on the bridge. His heart was thundering, the blood roaring
through his ears.

How could a bridge be made of nothing but light? How could a man stand
on it?

One more step forward. His leg shook so hard he could barely put his
foot down. His knees quivered. His body screamed at him to go back.

Another step, and this would be the hardest. Now he could see the abyss
below