e to the sacred cave. He let out a
breath of deep relief as his feet stepped firmly on the flat stone.

From outside he could see nothing of the cave. But when he entered, he
felt a sudden warmth, as if he were walking into a well-sealed lodge
with a bright fire going. He could smell old fires--and something else.
An animal smell that sent a ripple of cold through his bones. But not a
fresh smell. He thanked Earthmaker for that, because he was sure it was
the smell of bear.

But Owl Carver had been using this cave for his vision quests for
winters beyond counting. And he had never spoken of a bear.

Gray Cloud stood uncertain in the entryway, letting his eyes adjust to
the darkness. He saw round, gleaming shapes clustered against the back
wall, and a motionless figure about as high as a man's waist, with a
sharply curved beak and spreading wings.

Again, seeing these things, he felt the coldness of fear. Now he saw
that the round objects on the floor were skulls, and he knew them for
the skulls of ancestors, great men and women of the tribe. Green and
white stones that had long ago been necklaces glittered around the jaws
of the great dead ones. And the winged figure standing over them was the
Owl spirit, who guided the footsteps of the dead along the Trail of
Souls. Owl Carver had earned his name by carving this statue of the
spirit and setting it here.

From a pouch tied to his belt Gray Cloud took a handful of sacred
tobacco grains and sprinkled them on the cave floor as an offering.

He said, "Give me leave to enter your cave, Fathers and Mothers. You
know me. I am your child."

He hesitated. Only through his mother, Sun Woman, was he the child of
these ancestors who guarded the sacred cave. His father was a pale eyes,
and the pale eyes had no ancestors. Would the ancestors reject him?

There was no sign or sound from the skulls on the floor, but now he
could see farther into the shadows, and he saw that the cave went on
around a bend, and that bend was guarded by another sacred figure. He
peered at the shadowy figure for a moment and decided that it was a
bear, but a bear such as he had never seen before. From head to foot
this bear was white. Owl Carver had said nothing about this statue.

He sighed in his dread, feeling a trembling in his stomach.

It was good for him to be here, he tried to tell himself. He had come
here to learn the shaman's secrets. This was the moment he had dreamed
of ever since t