Chapters (55)
That night, Red wanted to sleep under the stars, so Emaline stretched out their sleeping rolls near what was left of the fire and they watched the fireflies wink on and off until they fell asleep. Somewhere deep in the night, for the first time in months, she dreamt of the Burning Man. He led her through the snow and across the frozen wastes as he always had, but this time they were on horseback. She was mounted on Popcorn, the little Appaloosa mare, and the Burning Man rode the black mustang stallion, without a saddle or bridle. They cantered across deep snow, but the horses were able to glide over the surface, never sinking, moving steadily to the west, toward the high country. She was dressed in her soft, white antelope-skin dress decorated with porcupine quills, with the wolf skins over her shoulders and deerhide leggings to keep her warm. He wore the fringed deerskin shirt with fur cuffs made from a beaver hide and deerskin leggings and the bear-tooth necklace and he carried the lance decorated with eagle feathers. Now and then she would brush a low-hanging branch and feel cold snow on her neck, but she warmed again quickly, rocking gently along on horseback, following the celestial light of the Burning Man, her lantern and guide, comfort and compass. When she dropped farther back, she saw the long coils of light from his hair reach toward the stars, the aurora borealis rising from the snowy hills to the Milky Way.
He paused at the crest of the hill, reined in the black, waited for her to catch up. The black turned its wide, intelligent face to watch her and the Burning Man reached down to stroke its mane. As she worked her way up the rise to meet them, the Burning Man reached back and held out his hand for her. Her little Appaloosa trotted up beside him. She leaned forward in the saddle and stretched out her hand. For the first time in all the years he had filled her dreams, they touched.
Far to the east, the rising sun painted the eastern horizon with fire.