 
## **Contents**

Heart of Ice

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Thunderstone

A note from the author

By Barbara Pietron

Author Bio

Heart of Ice

Legacy in Legend Prequel

Barbara Pietron

Heart of Ice

Published by Scribe Publishing Company

Royal Oak, Michigan

www.scribe-publishing.com

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Pietron

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-940368-95-5 
These stories were the libraries of our people. In each story, there was recorded some event of interest or importance... A people enrich their minds who keep their history on the leaves of memory.

Luther Standing Bear, Lakota

Chapter 1

Ice squatted next to the wood pile located just inside the door of the vision quest lodge and noticed his fuel supply was getting low. Three days ago, he thought he'd moved an ample amount inside, considering the single-digit temperatures and below-zero wind chills of winter hadn't reared their ugly heads since March.

But even without a thermometer, Ice knew it was colder than the predicted low- to mid-thirties. The thin layer of birch bark that covered the small hut did little to insulate the interior, so he could estimate the weather outside by the size of his fire. As he added a fresh log, he guessed the temperature had dropped to at least twenty degrees.

Zipping his coat up to his chin and pulling his gloves on, Ice hunched down and pushed through the hide-covered doorway. Fortunately, having lived in northern Minnesota his entire life, he knew April didn't dictate winter's end so he'd chopped extra firewood, leaving it within reach outside. He paused for a moment to breathe in the crisp, fresh air. Daylight faded from the sky, casting the snow-covered landscape and frozen lake in shades of gray. Heavy clouds rendered the sunset nearly colorless.

An icy blast of wind rushed up the hill and smacked the door flap against its frame, urging him into motion. Later, he'd realize that was the moment the spirit entered the lodge behind his back, but at the time, Ice was unaware that he was no longer alone. Heaping wood on his arm, he twisted sideways and shoved it into the hut, then repeated the motion. After a moment spent considering the few remaining logs, Ice gathered them up and added them to the jumble inside the door.

That one decision may have saved his life.

He stooped and entered the lodge, his attention focused on stacking the wood neatly while he struggled not to dwell on his growing apprehension that a vision was not forthcoming. How pathetic would it be for the medicine man's apprentice to fail in this endeavor? He frowned. No. He refused to think that way; he'd always completed his vision quests successfully. Doubting himself was pointless.

Except that at sixteen, Ice's self-sureness seemed to be waning. If this vision quest yielded nothing else, he'd at least realized why his self-confidence was suffering lately. He could sum it up in one word: hormones. And more recently, two words: hormones and Lynn.

Lynn Ballentine was the sister of Troy Ballentine, the acclaimed captain of the Cass Lake High School hockey team. Ice wouldn't even know she existed since he was home-schooled, except he'd decided to participate in an extracurricular sport at the school—hockey. One fateful day, Lynn showed up at the boy's locker room door with some of Troy's pads just as Ice approached. She'd asked him if he'd give the pads to Troy and Ice agreed.

After that close encounter with her root-beer-colored eyes, long, straight shiny brown hair, and some kind of exotic scent, Ice looked for her in the stands. He wasn't sure if she'd always been there, but since the day they'd run into each other, she showed up for every game and sometimes sat on the bleachers during practice, doing homework.

Just before leaving for this vision quest, Ice had emerged from the locker room to find Lynn loitering in the hallway. Their eyes met and she smiled and said 'hi.' He still wasn't quite sure if he'd managed a return smile—he hoped so—but he did say 'hi' and then unfortunately spewed out something about Troy being almost ready and that he should be out soon. His ears, which were surely already red, burned when she said she'd been waiting for him and then proceeded to ask him to a dance at the high school.

To Ice's credit, he'd been listening to his teammates talk about the dance for at least two weeks—discussing if they were going and which girls they were going with (or hoped to be going with). So without too much floundering, he'd managed to accept Lynn's invitation. From that point on, though, it seemed the upcoming date was all Ice could think about.

He sighed, placing the last few pieces of wood on the pile and wishing the dance was weeks away instead of days away. Then, perhaps, he could focus on a vision. Ice set the last log aside to add to the fire next, then turned toward the fire pit, recoiling when he saw a seated figure calmly watching him. "Who are you?" he exclaimed.

"Who do you think?" the specter said, gray eyes alight with the dancing flames of the fire. Icicles covered the man's long white hair, bushy beard, and mustache. He wore a white fur-trimmed cloak and his pale face resembled the tissue paper Ice's mom used for gifts.

Ice blinked. "You're not... are you my spiritual guide?" Most often, he was taken on his quests by an otter. In only two incidences had he been met by an ancestor, and both times he recognized the familiar spirit. This figure in gray and white was no relative.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Did you not beckon for a remedy? Do you not seek a solution to a problem?"

An unexpected needle of alarm burrowed its way into Ice's chest. He studied the visitor, taking in details he hadn't noticed at first. The being was large—certainly larger that most men—and long, claw-like nails peeped from the sleeves of the heavy cloak. As realization dawned, adrenaline surged in Ice's blood stream, preparing him for fight or flight. He wondered how a manitou, a god-like spirit, had come to the vision quest lodge unbidden. "No," Ice answered firmly. "I've come only for advice."

The surface of the icicles surrounding the deity's face grew glossy in the heat from the fire. Annoyed gray eyes bored into Ice. "Don't waste my time," he intoned, his voice quiet and sinister. "I'm not one to be trifled with."

Ice's thoughts raced through countless stories and legends, striving to identify the figure that his training told him was a mythological spirit. In an attempt to convince the manitou that he had not conjured its presence, he held out his empty hands. "I have no medicine. I'm here on a vision quest for spiritual guidance. I'm not the one who summoned you."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ice realized his mistake. By admitting he had no item of power or any kind of talisman, he'd basically just admitted he had no defense. If the spirit chose to devour him, there was little Ice could do to stop it. Escape was improbable. His best hope was to outwit the deity. Bits and pieces of tales flashed in his memory. He was a storyteller; surely he could remember some clever ruse an ancestor had used to defeat a malevolent entity.

Droplets had begun to form at the tips of the icicles in the manitou's facial hair and when his flat lips twitched upward at the corners, the drops fell to his cloak. Ice's heart thumped rapidly at the evil light that glinted in the creature's eyes. A few more drips of melted ice spilled and caught in the cloak's furred edges. Suddenly a story heard at Grandfather Great Cloud's knee occurred to Ice.

The idea seemed crazy in its simplicity, but it was all he had. With forced casualness, Ice lifted the piece of wood he'd left near the fire and nestled it among the flames. "I have no food or offerings," he said, scooting closer to the woodpile. "But you may rest here until you're ready to move on." Two more logs were added to the fire.

The manitou shifted forward, a snarl escaping from deep in its throat, and Ice watched in horror as its nose elongated into a snout full of sharp teeth. Clawed hands became large hairy paws which matched the creature's even bigger hind paws. In seconds, the human-like figure had transformed into a humongous bear on four feet.

As Ice dug his arms into the pile of wood, the beast lowered its head and growled. Gathering as many logs as he could, Ice turned and dumped the load onto the fire before the manitou batted him to the ground. Too late, he noticed the large amount of wood had only served to smother the flames and decrease the heat of the fire. He crab-crawled to the back edge of the hut as the bear advanced on him.

The beast curled its lip, sending a rivulet of saliva over its sharp teeth. When it lunged, Ice cringed against the wall of the lodge. With nowhere to run, the creature easily slammed him flat on his back with a huge paw, then towered above him. As its maw stretched wide, Ice shot his arms up to stop the beast's jaws from snapping his neck.

A new burst of adrenaline allowed Ice to hold the slavering muzzle at arm's length, but as his biceps began to tremble, he knew his strength would only last so long. Suddenly, the interior of the hut brightened. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled into his hair. The beast remained above him, content to wait for Ice's weakening arms to give out.

Next to them, the fire began to crackle and pop with life and Ice realized why the lodge seemed so bright. The load of wood was beginning to catch and burn. The sweat trickling into his hair was joined by water streaming off the manitou's fur. He watched as uncertainty crept into the eyes of his opponent.

In seconds the blaze expanded. Flames surged upward, reaching for the hole at the top of the hut. Ice could feel the radiant heat warming his cheeks. The bear reared back and an instant later Ice was alone in the lodge, the door flap swinging. Outside, a gale howled in frustration and shook the small structure.

Ice stayed on his back for a moment, catching his breath, stunned by his narrow escape from a confrontation with the North Wind. He rose to a crouch on weak legs, threw a few more logs on the roaring fire, and then peeled off his coat. Eyeing the pile of wood, he wondered if there was enough to last until the spirit gave up.

Another gust of wind battered the vision quest lodge, whistling through the seams in the bark covering.

Mind racing, he sat as far from the door as possible while still able to reach the woodpile. His phone was in the car, so he couldn't call for a rescue. What had drawn the manitou? And why?

Although it sounded as if a tempest whipped itself into a frenzy outside, Ice's pulse eventually slowed, leaving him feeling drained and frightened. Even after the wind died down, he continued to feed the fire steadily, wondering if and when it would be safe to leave.

Eventually the warmth, exhaustion, and three-day fast caught up with him and he drifted to sleep.

When he awoke, shivering and still alone in the hut, Ice deemed it safe to leave. He pulled on his jacket, then lifted the bottom of an aluminum drum and placed it over the dying fire. As he bent to duck under the deer hide, his gaze fell on the woodpile near the door.

Merely four logs remained.

An elder carries the spirit of a people from one generation to the other.

Rick Williams, President, American Indian College Fund

Chapter 2

Ice swung open the side screen door and stepped onto the landing adjacent to the medicine man's kitchen, grateful that Nik had left the inside door open in anticipation of his arrival.

"Take off your shoes," a voice called from around the corner.

Taking a seat on the two steps leading into the kitchen, Ice loosened his laces and kicked his boots off, then entered the room where his teacher and mentor stood at the stove using a wooden spoon to stir something in a frying pan. A plaid flannel shirt hung over the man's khakis and his customary gray braid was just a quick ponytail this early in the morning. "I knew you'd be hungry." Nik glanced at Ice and then pressed the lever on the toaster. "There's butter in the fridge. Jelly, too, if you want it."

"Thanks, I'm starving." Ice opened the refrigerator and found the butter but left the jelly behind since it was grape. The simple smell of toasting bread made his mouth water. His hands shook slightly as he gathered knives and forks; he'd remembered something on the way here—something Nik had taught him a few years back about the North Wind. Logic told him not to worry, but the mystic in him was troubled.

"So start from the beginning." Nik scraped scrambled eggs onto two plates.

"Uh... I have a question first." Ice spoke quietly with his back to the older man as he set the butter and utensils on the table. "If you don't mind." He turned to face Nik, meeting the medicine man's eyes for a moment before the toast popped up.

"Shoot." Nik shrugged.

Ice took a seat at the table and Nik placed a plate in front of him with eggs and two pieces of toast, then reloaded the toaster. Unsure how to ask the question—or if he truly wanted an answer—Ice blurted out, "I didn't dream this."

Nik shot a confused glance his way. "So what's the question?"

"The North Wind was there. I felt the drops from melting icicles on my face." He pressed his right shoulder, grimacing. "I'm going to have a bruise here, where he hit me."

The medicine man leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "I got it. You were visited. Physically. It wasn't a dr—" Suddenly his eyebrows rose. "You're worried about the Windigo curse?"

Ice nodded, slumping in the chair. He set aside the lid for the butter and picked up his knife.

"Everything I've ever heard or been taught, in relation to becoming a Windigo, speaks of dreaming about the North Wind. A visit is completely different from a dream," Nik assured him, bringing his toast to the table. "I believe you're right, Ice. The spirit manifested itself, you didn't manifest it subconsciously."

Ice breathed a sigh of relief; Nik's explanation made sense. "Okay, cool." Although it was hard to imagine he could become a cannibalistic monster, he'd seen enough things in his training—things that defied logic and explanation—that he never ruled anything out. His stomach growled, reminding him of the food in front of him, and he took two bites of his buttered toast then put it down to butter the second piece. "So anyway, I did everything the way I always do," he answered Nik's initial question. "The way I was taught."

"Do you remember where your thoughts were before the spirit showed up?"

Finished buttering his toast, Ice shoveled in a forkful of eggs without answering. It may have appeared like he was thinking, but he knew exactly what his mind was on when the North Wind appeared, he just didn't want to admit it. "I certainly wasn't thinking about the North Wind," he finally said.

"If you know what wasn't on your mind," Nik smiled, motioning for the butter, "then you probably know what was on your mind." He regarded his apprentice with raised eyebrows.

Sliding the plastic dish across the table, Ice lowered his gaze to his plate. "I wondered if I'd chopped enough wood, since it was colder than I anticipated. I was outside when the wind gusted up the hill."

"Right, that's what you said on the phone. Is that it?"

Ice's cheeks felt hot; whether a product of the warm house and food, or a flush of embarrassment, he wasn't sure, but suspected the latter. "Got any juice?"

Nik nodded, his attention on his toast.

Somehow, standing at the refrigerator made it easier to fess-up. "I also was thinking about a girl." Ice didn't see how that could matter, but he also didn't understand why the manitou had visited him, so any detail could be important. He slowly poured a glass of orange juice and then returned to the table.

The medicine man didn't comment right away, keeping his eyes on his breakfast, but his forehead creased. His next question was rather unexpected. "Does this girl have a boyfriend?"

"No... I... she," Ice stammered. His automatic reaction was to reply with 'I don't know,' after all, he didn't go to school with her. Then he realized, since she'd asked him to the dance, she couldn't have a boyfriend—at least she shouldn't. "No," he said, feeling like an idiot.

Nik had been watching him curiously, his fork poised over his eggs. Once Ice provided a concrete answer, the older man muttered, "That probably rules out vengeful thoughts," then returned to eating. "What did the manitou ask? If you needed something fixed?"

"A solution to a problem. A remedy, I think it said."

"Sounds to me like someone else summoned the manitou and it was drawn to your 'open frequency,' so to speak." Finished with his eggs, he put his fork down.

"Like another medicine man?" Ice popped his last bite of toast into his mouth, glad they'd moved past the subject of Lynn.

"I think it would have to be." Nik didn't look pleased at the possibility. "Mmm, I guess I need to get on the phone and find out what's been going on around us."

Ice studied his mentor thoughtfully. "So if I didn't dream the North Wind, is it still a bad omen?"

Nick rubbed his forehead and then looked at Ice with his mouth twisted into a grimace. "The North Wind is an evil spirit. I've never known of its presence to bring anything good."

***

When Ice woke, blue light peeped from under his window shade and he could hear his mom moving about. The squeak of the shower knob revealed that she'd just gotten up and was getting ready to go to work. He remained in bed for a few more minutes, reluctant to leave the warm covers, but the smell of coffee had roused his senses and his rumbling stomach refused to let him fall back to sleep.

After breakfast at Nik's yesterday, Ice had texted his mom that he was back and then crawled into bed. When she came home from work, his mom woke him for dinner and he'd watched a bit of TV before dozing off again.

A smile lit his mom's face when she saw him sitting at the kitchen table. "Caught up on your sleep?"

Ice shook his head. "Never enough sleep." He let a smile escape when she laughed.

"How about breakfast?"

"Mom, I can feed myself. Don't be late for work."

She poured coffee into her travel mug. "So what do you have going on today?"

Ice shrugged. "The usual. You know, check in with Nik. He's usually in his office early." He caught the look on her face and added, "And homework."

"Yes," she said. "I hope you'll have some time for calculus today." She shrugged into her coat, making sure Ice met her gaze. "Just because you've been accepted at the University of Minnesota, doesn't mean you can slack off. They expect you to complete your high school courses." She pulled gloves from her pockets and slid her hands inside.

"I know, Mom. I'll work on it."

"Okay." She kissed him on top of his head. "Have a good day. Keep me in the loop."

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a smile.

Half an hour later, with food in his belly and caffeine in his bloodstream, Ice felt pretty good as he slicked his hands across his scalp to squeeze the excess water from his hair. When his skin was dry, he stepped from the shower and rubbed the towel on his head to dry his hair. He knew short hair would be easier, but he liked to wear his black hair a little longer—at least past his jawbone. Somehow, it seemed to make up for his unusual eyes, fragmented into blue-gray chips. Everything else about him—his copper skin, strong nose, prominent jaw line, and wide shoulders—labeled him as Native American.

He didn't mind the blue eyes he inherited from his mother, and certainly owed nothing to his absentee father, but as an apprentice medicine man, Ice embraced his Native American heritage.

It hadn't snowed again since the last night of his vision quest, so the roads were clear, making it a quick drive to the tribal council building. Hearing Nik on the phone in his office, Ice paused in the doorway, but his mentor glanced up and motioned him into the room. A tall bookcase occupied the right wall, loaded with books, journals, and papers. On the left, a two-drawer credenza supplied a base for a shorter set of shelves populated with colored stones, painted sticks, colorful woven objects adorned with feathers, strings of beads, and other ceremonial paraphernalia. "Right. I know," the older man said. "But we have to check it out."

Ice sat in one of the chairs facing Nik's vintage steel desk, wishing he'd caught the subject of the conversation. Nik eyeballed him with his finger held up in the 'one minute' gesture, and Ice bobbed his head in acknowledgment. His gaze shifted to the picture on the wall behind Nik. The framed photo was of an owl caught fluffing his feathers out—perhaps to look more menacing or more likely, to keep warm—either way, Ice knew the meaning behind the picture. Nik's late wife had purchased it for him since his name, Niski'gwun, meant "Ruffled Feathers."

Ice mused that someday he might have a wife who bought him a photo of cracked and fragmented ice to depict his own name: Shattered Ice.

"Okay," Nik said into the phone. "Look, Ice is here. I'll let you know what we decide to do or if we learn anything else."

Ice raised his eyebrows. The medicine man was ending a conversation to confer with him?

Nik stood as he ended the call. "Come on." He motioned with his hand. "It's still early. I need more coffee." As they stepped into the hallway he lowered his voice. "None of the neighboring medicine societies seem to know anything about the North Wind, but that isn't what concerns me most right now."

"What's going on?"

As they entered the break room, Nik gave Ice a look that said they would finish their conversation later. Then he said, "Morning, Ariel."

A slender woman in her thirties turned away from the coffee maker with a smile. "Morning, Nik." Her eyes shifted to Ice. "Ice. Always nice to see you."

"Hello, Mrs. Wood." Ice moved out of her way.

She stopped in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Ice. "You know, Mrs. Wood still sounds like my mother-in-law. I think you're old enough to call me Ariel." She laughed. "Please?"

Ice felt a blush creeping up his neck. "I'll try to remember." He managed an awkward smile. Get it together, he admonished himself as she disappeared around the corner. Sure, Ariel was pretty, but she was at least twenty years his senior—and married!

Nik poured coffee into his mug, the corners of his mouth quirked into an amused grin.

Ice took a paper cup from a stack and set it next to Nik's mug. "Thanks," he said as his teacher filled the cup. He sidestepped to examine the contents of a white box on the counter. "Bagels," Ice announced, then snapped a plastic lid on his coffee.

"After our discussion yesterday," Nik began in a low voice, "I did a little asking around—inquiring about any unusual activity in this area." He craned his neck toward the box of bagels, pressed his lips into a line as he scanned the selection, and then moved in the opposite direction to pick up the powdered creamer.

Ice slid his gaze to the medicine man for a moment before returning his attention to the bagels. "And?"

"This is one time when it would be to our advantage if you attended the public high school." Nik stirred his coffee.

Ice paused to gape at his mentor, his hand poised over a bagel. Nik had insisted Ice be homeschooled once he finished elementary school, to accommodate his training.

Nik caught the look and grunted. "Only because an incident happened at the school yesterday and all I'm getting is hearsay or a second-hand account."

"What happened?" Ice finished smearing cream cheese on his bagel and pressed the two halves together.

Once Nik confirmed they were in the hallway alone, he replied. "Sounds like a teacher flipped out, made some bizarre and inappropriate comments."

"Bizarre? Like what?"

Two men came around the corner heading in their direction so the medicine man withheld his answer until he and Ice entered his office. "That's the problem," he said, rounding to the far side of his desk, "there are so many rumors flying around, I can't be sure what's true." He bobbed his chin with a pointed look at the door and Ice swung it shut behind him. "My source said the behavior was way off the normal scale for this guy."

Ice set his coffee and bagel on Nik's desk and scooted a chair close enough to reach them. "I play hockey at the high school. I could ask some questions in the locker room."

Nik shrugged. "It can't hurt."

Ice sipped his coffee considering the small amount of guys that made up the hockey team. Suddenly he sat up straight. "The dance," he said, causing Nik to regard him with raised eyebrows. "I'm going to a dance on Friday; kids might be talking about it there. Or I can try to get them talking about it."

His mentor smiled. "Good idea, Ice. The social setting is perfect. If you can manage, try to isolate the comments or accounts from kids who were actually there—assuming you run into one of them."

Ice chewed a bite of bagel and enjoyed the surge of pleasure brought on by Nik's words. Then, just as quickly, the feeling was eradicated as a seed of apprehension sprouted in his gut. This was his first date with Lynn and he'd just agreed to encourage gossip, which couldn't be more unlike him.

His misgivings must've showed on his face because Nik said, "No pressure Ice, I realize this is an outside chance; any information you gather will be helpful."

Ice nodded, but inside he was kicking himself. Great. His chances of impressing Lynn were slim to none if he came off as a busybody only interested in hearing and spreading rumors.
I have seen that in any great undertaking it is not enough for a man to depend simply upon himself.

Lone Man (Isna-la-wica), Teton Sioux

Chapter 3

Ice smacked his pencil on the table and pushed back his chair in frustration. He couldn't concentrate. He wished he'd never brought up the dance earlier because now he couldn't get it off his mind. Again. But his distraction during the vision quest hadn't been the first complication caused by his future date. Minutes after telling Lynn he'd go to the dance with her, Ice realized he should probably make sure Troy, his team captain, was okay with him taking his sister out.

Sighing, Ice rose and pulled open the refrigerator. He grabbed a can of soda and after a long drink, took it with him into the living room and plopped down on the couch. He vividly remembered that awful night at hockey practice last week: sitting on the player's bench waiting to be sent out on the ice, seeing Lynn in the bleachers, anticipating how to approach Troy...

The guy next to him had poked him with an elbow and Ice stepped into the rink, eager to impress both Lynn and her brother. But the puck had been stolen from the curve of his stick at least twice—something Ice never let happen—and his shots continually went a little wild. Troy waved him back to the bench. As he'd sat watching the other players, Ice refused to look at the bleachers, his eyes glued to the skirmish. Although he'd fared better his second time on the ice, he didn't feel like he made up for his bungled first exhibition.

In the end, his performance had earned him a conversation with the team captain—which was what he wanted, but certainly not the way he wanted it.

Troy called him out of line as the team filed into the locker room after practice. He waited until the last guy was through the door. "I've never seen you skate as bad as you did today. I need to set up strategy for our next game. What's up?"

"Yeah, man. I'm sorry." Ice had stumbled over his words. "I over-thought everything today instead of just playing. I need to get out of my own head."

Troy looked him in the eye. "So I can count on you for the game with Bemidji?"

"Absolutely." The dance would be over by then. No distractions.

"Okay." Troy clapped him on the shoulder and then turned away.

"Hey, Troy?" The knot of nerves in Ice's belly unfurled and spread upward to his chest.

The team captain turned back to him, his eyebrows peaked.

"Uh...Lynn asked me to the dance next week and I'd like to take her, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with it."

Ice held his breath as Troy's eyebrows arched upward and then dropped back into place. He compressed his lips briefly before answering. "I try to stay out of her business, so if she wants to go with you, that's her choice. But I appreciate the heads up." Then he laughed. "Sheds a little light on your practice today, too."

Ice grimaced at the memory. Reliving the embarrassing moment was nearly as mortifying as when it happened. He leaned forward and picked up his game controller. His mom wouldn't be pleased at his lack of progress on his calculus, but he just couldn't focus right now. Maybe killing some zombies would blow off enough frustration to allow him to concentrate on math.

In what seemed like merely minutes later, Ice heard the ringtone he'd set for Nik. He took out two more zombies and then dashed into the kitchen to retrieve his phone.

"Hey Nik, what's up?"

"Ice, I was able to get a little insider information on that teacher. I was hoping you might be able to track him down. I've got a couple other things I'm looking into."

"Sure. What'd you find out?"

"I spoke to a staff member from the school. Of course she wasn't in the classroom, but I'd like to think her version is closer to the truth than the constantly changing details coming from the rumor mill." Nik paused and Ice heard paper rustling. "This happened while you were on your vision quest, so the timing's right. The teacher, Mr. Nesbitt, showed up for class Monday morning looking quite rough. The woman I spoke to saw him in the lounge and said she knew he'd been hunting over the weekend and it looked as though he'd come in straight from the woods, unshowered, unshaven, and dressed like a lumberjack. This from a man who never wore facial hair and has his dress shirts professionally laundered and pressed.

"By the end of the day," Nik continued, "there were all kinds of stories going around the school. The next morning the staff was called in for an emergency meeting and told that Nesbitt had been suspended for sexual harassment. Later, the assistant principle admitted in private that Nesbitt had sniffed a female student and told her that she 'smelled delectable' and he'd 'love to eat her.'"

Heat rose in his cheeks and Ice was glad this conversation was taking place over the phone and not in person. He cleared his throat. "He sniffed her? That's kinda sick."

"It's certainly odd."

"Sounds kind of outside our jurisdiction." Ice felt less than eager to track down some creepy pedophile.

"Because you're thinking like everyone else. Add the North Wind to the equation and take out the sexual harassment. What do you get?"

Ice knew Nik expected a reasonable answer so he did as his mentor suggested and considered the words Nesbitt used. "Holy crap. Hannibal Lecter."

"Right." Nik's tone was grim. "In our world, known as a Windigo."

"And you want me to go after him?"

"No, Ice, track him down—just find out where he is."

"All right." Ice ripped a blank sheet from his calculus notebook. "Do you have a first name?"

"Yes," Nik answered amidst another paper shuffle. "Harrison. And Nesbitt has two 't's."

"Got it." Ice scratched the name on his paper. "As long as his information is public, I should be able to find him."

"Great. I'll be in touch. Remember Ice, no contact."

"Right." Ice ended the call and retrieved his laptop from his bedroom. As the operating system booted up, he walked into the living room where the television screen flashed "terminated" over the gruesome scene of zombies feasting on his fallen body. "Ugh," he mumbled as he turned the system off. "Not what I needed to see right now."

He should've thought of a Windigo as soon as Nik repeated what the teacher had said. After all, he'd just mentioned it yesterday.

The Windigo condition went back to a time when people survived off the land. Through the long and harsh winters in northern Minnesota, families depended on successful hunting in order to survive. If no game could be found and a person resorted to cannibalism to keep from starving, it was said they would become a Windigo.

One of the most feared evil entities of the northern woods and Great Lakes regions, the Windigo preyed upon people to satisfy a compulsive hunger for human flesh. It was believed the creature had a heart of ice because of its disregard for human life. Ice had seen many renderings of the monster in books and various forms of artwork. The creature possessed yellow, owl-like eyes, and was most often depicted as tall and lanky, usually emaciated. Its body was sometimes covered with matted hair and other times shown with sallow, wrinkled skin, but the fingers always ended in large claws. In one account, Ice remembered the description included long fangs and a lipless mouth, the monster's hunger being so insatiable, the creature consumed its own lips.

A young boy never forgets a detail like that.

Ice felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end even as he stood in his own living room in the middle of the day. If this teacher was a Windigo, he would hunt down people to kill and eat them, until he was stopped.

It didn't take Ice long to find an online profile for Harrison Nesbitt. Most of his information was private, but Ice was able to learn a little bit from photos in the public domain. Nesbitt was an outdoorsman. Posted pictures showed turkey, deer, rabbit, several kinds of fish, and a string of long, furry rodent-sized animals that Ice guessed might be mink, or something similar. So the man hunted, fished, and likely was a trapper as well.

The photos were of Nesbitt alone or with other men; none included women or children. Ice theorized that the man was either single or divorced with no children. Of course, he also could be extremely particular about keeping his family off the internet, but Ice thought that was an outside chance.

An online directory listed a Cass Lake address for a Harrison Nesbitt so Ice typed the location into a map program. Closing the calculus notebook (so his mom wouldn't see the meager amount of work he'd done) but leaving it on the table (so she'd see he had at least thought about it) he donned his coat and shoes and headed south across town.

Nesbitt lived in a subdivision built in the forties near an industrial park. The streets appeared to be cloned, with house after house built in the same small ranch style. Ice noticed many owners had added a family room or a new garage, but the few with an added second level really stood out.

As he turned on Nesbitt's street, he slowed to watch the house numbers and maneuvered his Jeep to the curb when he found the correct address. From the street, the white sided house appeared unaltered from its original structure. A cracked cement driveway led to a small one car garage in the back corner of the lot.

The place looked deserted so Ice got out of his car, passing close to a bank of four mail boxes on his way to the sidewalk. He feigned a slip in the slushy street and reached for the box bearing Nesbitt's address. The door stuck, but Ice was able to give it a quick yank as he righted himself. He pushed it closed after a brief peek inside.

The glimpse told him exactly what he wanted to know: no one had emptied the mail box in days. He wondered where the teacher had gone.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Ice strode up the walk to the front porch. He had no intention of knocking, following Nik's direction of no contact, but he made it look as though he did. Then he mimicked waiting impatiently and took a look into the living room window.

Chances were, no one was paying any attention to him, but he didn't need a neighbor calling the police because he looked suspicious. The house was so still, he decided it was safe enough to go around to the side door—as if he were adamant about rousing someone inside.

As he strode down the driveway, he was able to see the house did have an addition, in the back. Again, he mimed knocking on the side door, eyeing everything around him for any useful information.

Burrowing his hands back into his coat pockets, Ice retreated back toward the street. About halfway to his car a creak issued from the house on the other side of the driveway. Ice felt a stab of alarm even as he told himself he'd done nothing wrong.

At the loud slam of an aluminum door, he decided he'd appear guiltier if he didn't turn to look. A middle-aged woman with her hair piled on top of her head and a robe cinched around her waist sprinkled rock salt on her front steps. Her attention, however, was not on her task, but on Ice.

"Morning," he called with a friendly wave and continued to move toward his Jeep.

"Morning." She eyeballed him with mixed curiosity and suspicion. "You a student?"

Ice stopped. "Yes," he answered truthfully. "I'm looking for Mr. Nesbitt."

"Pretty sure he went to his cabin out by Itasca State Park." She leaned the bag of salt against the house. "Haven't seen him in a few days. He didn't let his students know?"

"I don't know." Ice kicked at a piece of slush. "I wasn't there this week." He tried for a sheepish tone. "Guess I'm outta luck." He shrugged and walked to the Jeep, trying not to rush, and praying she didn't ask any more questions.

Once he'd made it to the side of his car and out of the woman's sight, he quickly swung into his seat and started the engine. He shifted the vehicle into gear and slowly rolled from the curb as he buckled his seatbelt.

At a stop sign he dialed Nik, wondering if the medicine man wanted him to try to find Nesbitt's cabin. When he didn't get an answer, he pulled to the side of the road and used his phone to get online. But when he had a directory on his screen, he realized he didn't have a city to enter in the search box. Since the only clue he had was Itasca State Park, he looked for the park address and then used the same city—Park Rapids—to find Nesbitt.

"Yes," he breathed as an address showed up for Harrison Nesbitt in Park Rapids.

He knew the remote location of the cabin and the probability that Nesbitt was actually there made the situation more risky than the medicine man's original request. Still, Ice was fairly certain Nik would want him to investigate as long as he did so safely. He drummed his fingers on top of the steering wheel as he debated over what to do.

His gaze shifted to the clock on his car radio, confirming that school was out, so he dialed his buddy, Corey. He was about to give up when his friend finally answered. "Yeah?" A loud scratching noise sounded from Corey's end of the line.

"Hey, what're you up to?"

The scratching paused. "Cleaning the snow off the porch awning. Why? What's up?"

"I'm running an errand for Nik, taking a ride out near Itasca. Just looking for company. No big deal."

Ice winced at a loud bang in his ear and then Corey said, "Sure. I'll go. I should be done by the time you get here."

"Cool. See you in about ten." Ice ended the call and dropped his phone in his cup holder as he swung onto the road.

When he turned onto Corey's street, he could see his friend's stocky frame piling chunks of icy snow near the curb. Corey waved and approached the Jeep's passenger window when Ice pulled into the driveway. "I just gotta put this shovel and stuff in the garage and let my mom know I'm leaving."

Minutes later Corey climbed into the passenger seat. He palmed his knit cap from his head freeing his dark blond, loose curls. He shook his head then ran his hands through the thick mane. "Hey, can we stop for something to drink?"

"Sure." Ice backed from the drive.

"So what kind of errand are you running today?" Corey's genuine interest in Ice's medicine man apprenticeship was one of the reasons Ice liked him so much. Even in a town located within the boundaries of Leech Lake Indian Reservation, he often felt other kids were tiptoeing around his Ojibwe heritage as if it were a taboo subject.

Corey, however, had shown up at some of the public ceremonies and dances and, after hearing Ice or other tribe members tell stories, often inquired about Ojibwe myths.

"Actually, I'm just checking a guy out." Ice answered his friend's question.

Corey studied him with a raised eyebrow cocked over one of his sky-blue eyes. "Excuse me?"

Ice laughed. "Poor choice of words. Making sure a guy is doing okay."

"He's sick?"

"Maybe." Ice pulled into a convenience store and Corey hopped out. He returned with a sports drink in each hand, passing one to Ice as he got back into the Jeep.

"Thanks, man." Ice opened the bottle and took a few swallows.

"All right, so what's the deal with this guy?" Corey snapped the lid off his drink.

Ice thought for a moment as he pulled into traffic. "Look, it's a teacher at your school, so you can't say a thing to anyone."

"Mr. Nesbitt?"

"Yeah," Ice replied, not surprised Corey guessed. "All we have are theories, so you can't repeat this."

"I get it dude," Corey assured him. "My lips are sealed."

Ice remembered telling his friend a tale about a Windigo a year or two ago, so he relayed their basic suspicions. He trusted Corey and thought it only fair to be up front about what they were doing and why they were looking for Nesbitt.

"That is gnarly." Corey slapped the seat next to him and turned toward Ice. "I thought that stuff was made up—but you think it actually happened?"

"Maybe." Ice drew the word out emphatically.

When Corey didn't reply, Ice decided to change the subject. "Hey, Lynn Ballentine asked me to the dance at your school on Friday. Of course I said yes."

"Congrats, dude. Pretty ballsy going out with the captain's sister." Corey was the hockey team's goalie.

Ice chuckled. "Yeah. I gave him a heads up, though. Do you know Lynn?"

Corey nodded. "A little. She's one of Audrey's friends."

The news was huge for Ice—Audrey was Corey's girlfriend. "Really? So the four of us can hang out?" Having Corey as a backup would take a lot of pressure off Ice.

"Sorry. Not happening. We broke up."

Ice's excitement deflated. He glanced at his friend. "Since when?"

"Since she started lip wrestling another guy."

"Ah man, that sucks."

"Whatever." Corey swiped a hand through his curls. "Better sooner than later. At least I didn't buy prom tickets yet or anything." His bitter tone didn't match his flippant words.

"There're probably ten other girls lined up just hoping your 'Prince Charmingness' will ask them to the dance," Ice teased, using the nickname Corey's gold and brown curls had earned him in the locker room.

"Nah, I don't have an advantage like you."

"Me?" Ice laughed.

"Do you know how many times Audrey's friends have asked about you?"

"Come on..."

"Chicks think you're mysterious." Corey wagged his fingers in the air. "They're into stuff like that."

Ice shook his head. "There's nothing mysterious about me."

"Dude. We're on our way to check out a cannibal. I rest my case."

Ice chuckled and felt a flush creeping up his neck so he let the conversation drop. "Let me know if you see 200."

When they reached Highway 200, Ice made a left and continued to skirt the east side of Itasca State Park until they reached Route 113, which took them along the bottom edge of the park. "What's next?" he asked, passing his phone with the map directions to his friend.

"Ahh... according to this, we've arrived at our destination."

"What?"

"That's what it says."

Ice groaned and eased his Jeep to the shoulder of the road. He scanned the map. "Crap. It looks like his property isn't part of my map program. Hopefully we're at least close."

"I think there was a gas station back that way." Corey jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"You're right, I saw it too." Ice made a U-turn and backtracked to Hoglund's Gas and Goods. Inside the station's convenience store they found the proprietor, Roffe Hoglund, very willing to help. "Can't say I know this Harrison Nesbitt, but I have seen the name Nesbitt on one of them-there two-track signs. You've seen the signs they post on the trees at the end of the dirt tracks, eh?"

When he received an affirmative nod from the boys, Mr. Hoglund stroked his chin, looking into the distance thoughtfully. "About four and a half... five miles up, is Twin Island Lake, eh. Can't remember if it's before or after, but it's right around there."

"Okay, great," Ice said. "Thanks for the help." He elbowed Corey who was bent over a glass case. "Let's go."

"Did you see this stuff?" Corey asked. "Pretty cool."

Ice scanned the case, one eyebrow lifting when he saw it was filled with a variety of Native American trinkets.

"Yeah," Roffe agreed. "Kids can't get enough of these beaded bracelets and such. But I think this other stuff is much more interesting." He indicated a section of arrowheads and painted stones.

Ice studied the items for a moment. "Uh... where do you get your inventory?"

"Local reservations. I've got a good location here, just outside the park, you know."

A sense of disquiet settled over Ice. He couldn't fault Mr. Hoglund for the items others were willing to sell, but the Midewiwin, the medicine man society, was working on rounding up authentic artifacts. Ice hated to see them reduced to souvenirs in a roadside shop. He made a mental note to mention Hoglund's to Nik. "We should get going. Thanks again."

"You betcha," Roffe replied with a wide smile.

A few minutes down the road, Ice reduced his speed at the sign for Twin Island Lake. Because of the sparse traffic on 113, he was able to slow to a near stop as they examined the signs posted at the side road entrances. Camps and resorts generally used wooden signs driven into the ground while the residents simply nailed their placards directly to a tree. Most families painted their surname on a scrap of plywood or two-by-four, although Ice did see one that appeared to be artistically etched on a finished piece of hardwood. He could only imagine what that place must look like.

When they spotted the Nesbitt sign, Ice turned right, advancing slowly down an uneven dirt road which cut into the forest. He mentally thanked himself for choosing a four-wheel drive vehicle as they slogged through the slushy mud for at least a quarter mile before spotting the first building.

Sections of trees divided the occupied lots, but the cleared areas surrounding the houses or cabins allowed a view beyond the homes where a flat stretch of snow indicated that the properties bordered a small lake. Decorative signboards such as "Paulsen's Paradise" and "Hiller's Haven" must've once been the trend, and Corey read them out loud with amusement. Harrison Nesbitt's cabin, however, was marked only by numbers hand painted on his mailbox.

The crunch and pop of rocks beneath the tires almost sounded ominous as they rolled slowly past the log cabin. An SUV was parked near the door on what seemed to be a gravel driveway. Corey pointed. "There's smoke coming from the chimney."

Ice maintained the slow crawl until they were out of sight of the cabin and then rested his foot on the brake until they stopped completely.

Corey flicked his eyebrows up and down. "Now what?"

"I'm not sure. I'm trying to decide if the smoke is enough to confirm he's here. What if he loaned his cabin to friends or family?"

"Then I think we need to check it out." His friend smiled mischievously.

Ice grinned back at him. "I better find a place to park." He slipped his foot off the brake. Fortunately, most of the lakefront properties were summer homes. The untouched snow piled around the next place up the road announced that no one had visited since last fall so Ice pulled in and parked in front of the garage.

As his feet sank into the snow, Ice was glad he had on shoes rather than sneakers, but when they reached the sludgy road, he looked wistfully at Corey's boots. His shoes were going to be a mess.

The temperature was close to freezing, but clear skies allowed the sun to warm the tops of their heads. They approached Nesbitt's property warily, slipping into the bank of afternoon shade cast along the western side of the yard. Staying in the deepest shadows, close to the line of trees, the boys progressed until they stood opposite one of the cabin's side windows.

As soon as they were still, the cold began to seep past their clothes. Ice tugged the zipper on his coat all the way up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"What if he's taking a nap or something?" Corey whispered. "We could be here hours."

Shuffling from foot to foot and wiggling his toes, Ice had been thinking the same thing. "Let's give it a few minutes and if we don't see anything, we'll go right up to the window."

Corey had his hands in his pockets, but he wasn't shuffling his feet. He nodded.

The shade stretched out toward the cabin as the sun continued to set. Both boys froze in place when suddenly the room they'd been studying flooded with light. Finally a figure came into view. "Is that him?" Ice murmured, thinking this was another reason he was glad Corey had come—he could identify the teacher.

After a short pause, Corey whispered, "Yeah... I think so. I've never seen him with a beard. And man, he looks so... so..."

"Bad? Crazy?"

"He looks like he just came back from some kind of survival training."

Even without knowing the man, the first thing that came to Ice's mind was 'he's not right.' Despite the full beard, or perhaps because of the dark facial hair, Nesbitt's pale skin stood out starkly on his gaunt face. The way his shoulders rose and fell, the man appeared to be breathing heavily.

As the boys watched, he moved slowly to the back of the cabin. His manner wasn't that of an old man, but rather, an exhausted man. The crotch of his worn sweatpants drooped halfway down to his knees as if the waistband hung low on his hips, and the buttons on his flannel shirt were fastened in the wrong holes.

When Nesbitt disappeared from view, Ice motioned for Corey to follow him to the back of the cabin. From their position at the fringe of the woods, they could see that only a small area had been cleared on the lakeside of the property. A shed stood at the back corner of the clearing and behind it, tall grass and weeds separated the yard from the water's edge. As the wind shifted, Ice caught a whiff of an offensive smell, but before he could identify it, the breeze carried it away.

Ice silently crept from the shadows and crossed to the corner of the cabin with Corey following close behind. Pressed against the rough-hewn logs, Ice extended his head past the edge of the structure and then slipped around the corner to the back wall. He ducked under a lighted window. Rising slowly, he attempted to peek through it, but as soon as his line of vision passed the window sill, he dropped back to a crouch. He scrambled back to where Corey stood and pulled his friend around the corner.

"What happened?" Corey hissed.

"He was right there," Ice whispered. "Right at the window."

Corey's eyes bugged out. "Did he see you?"

"I don't think so. He was looking down at whatever he was doing." Ice shuddered. "Dude, I think he had a knife. A bloody knife."

Corey took a step toward the trees. "Let's get out of here."

That'd been Ice's first reaction also, but then he remembered all the hunting pictures of Nesbitt online. "He's a hunter. He may just be butchering an animal." He scanned the backyard, looking for a way to see in the window without being spotted. His gaze came to rest on the shed. "Let's see if we can get behind the shed."

The other boy shrugged and nodded, then wrinkled his nose. "Smell that swamp gas?"

The breeze had again changed direction, bending the long grass away from the water. Maybe that explained why Nesbitt had only cleared this small space, Ice thought, the land was swampy.

By now, the shade along the woods had extended its reach almost to where they were standing and the air had taken on the grainy quality of twilight. Ice led the way along the edge of the yard to the shed, putting a hand over his nose as the foul odor became more noxious. When they approached the small structure, his brain registered two things, one good and the other bad. The good thing: there was space to stand behind the shed. The bad thing: if the ground was frozen, they shouldn't smell swamp gas...

He reached the corner of the building and stumbled backward into Corey.

"What the—" And then Corey saw what had stopped Ice. He gagged, turning quickly to retreat.

Ice followed his friend as they dashed past the cabin and all the way to the street. They continued, slipping and stumbling over the half-frozen muddy road, until they reached Ice's Jeep. Once they were inside, Ice locked the doors immediately and started the engine. "What was that?" he croaked, sucking in a breath to try to calm his heart and stop his hands from shaking.

Corey sat staring straight ahead, his arms wrapped over his chest, breathing hard. "A corpse," he muttered.
It's what you see along the way that makes you an elder.

You can live a long time and not see anything, not be any wiser.

Pay attention to what you see along the way.

Vera Mitchell, Mescalero and Lakota

Chapter 4

Ice called Nik as soon as his phone showed service bars. "We need to talk," was all he was willing to say. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."

Nik opened his side door and held it while Ice and Corey got out of the Jeep. His gaze took in Ice's friend and one eyebrow twitched briefly. "You guys hungry? I've got spaghetti."

Ice shook his head vehemently and mumbled, "No, thanks." Corey didn't reply, just followed Ice's lead and kicked off his shoes at the door.

"This is Corey," Ice said. "He knows I'm your apprentice." The phrase let his mentor know that the other boy understood who—and what—Nik was.

Nik nodded to Corey and then motioned toward the living room where the boys obediently sank into the couch. The older man looked from one face to the other. "So, what happened?" He took a seat in his recliner.

Ice began by telling Nik about Nesbitt's neighbor who mentioned the man had a cabin. "When I didn't get you on the phone, I figured I should at least see if he was out there. I asked Corey if he wanted to go for a ride. He's seen Nesbitt at school, so I figured he could identify him." That wasn't exactly Ice's train of thought earlier, but it was close enough. "And he's heard Windigo stories," Ice added and met Nik's gaze. "He knows not to say anything."

The medicine man's face was stoic, leaving Ice no indication how the man felt about his decision to reveal their investigation to his friend. Ice took a breath and continued, describing the cabin, Nesbitt's disheveled appearance, and the glimpse of the man allegedly butchering something. "We were going to watch from behind the shed." Ice swallowed hard and glanced at Corey. "But when we got there we found a... a pile of remains..."

"Remains?" Nik leaned forward in his chair.

Ice nodded. "Bones and... guts." He crossed his arms over his stomach as if it might help the sick feeling roiling inside him.

"Okay... you told me he was a hunter. He's got to dispose of the innards somehow," Nik said.

"There was a ribcage." Corey finally spoke up. "Pretty big." He curved his hands around the sides of his torso, validating his claim.

"And a hand, Nik." Ice stared into the medicine man's eyes. "A hand." He'd turned the gruesome sight over and over in his mind on the drive back to Cass Lake, testing the possibility that the skeletal hand had been a trick of the shadows. But the white bones had reflected enough of the dying light to stand out clearly against the dark ground.

Deep creases marked the older man's forehead. "Did either of you see a skull? Human or animal?"

Ice shook his head and looked at Corey. "No," his friend said.

Nik reclined into his chair, a troubled look on his face. "Animal bones can be mistaken for human bones, but I can't make an assumption in either direction without taking a look myself."

"Go back?" Ice responded, recoiling. "Can't we just call the police?"

"Sure. And how will you explain what you were doing there?"

Corey turned to Ice. "Dude, can we leave me out of this? I don't need a visit from the cops. My parents would freak." He drew his phone from his pocket and checked the time. "Shh...oot." He recovered with a quick glance at Nik. "I gotta go."

Nik rose. "Go ahead and get him home, Ice. Call me later."

Ice nodded. His mentor was clearly not happy and Ice wasn't sure if his behavior was to blame or simply the turn of events.

In the car, Ice apologized to Corey for bringing him into the situation. His friend said nothing for a moment and then shrugged. "Hey, you told me exactly what we were doing. I could've bailed while we were still in town."

"Thanks, then. At least I had someone to back me up."

Corey emitted an unexpected chuckle and Ice shot a sideways glance at him. "Besides, when this is over—assuming it ends well—this is going to make a great story."

"We can only hope," Ice replied, the words "assuming it ends well" echoing in his head.

On the way home from Corey's, Ice heard his text tone and guessed it was his mom, wondering where he was and if he'd be home for dinner. Waiting until the Jeep was in the driveway to check his phone, he discovered he was wrong. The text was from Lynn.

"Hey Ice, I wanted to make plans for the dance since it's only two days away. I hoped you could drive but now I've got a situation... "

Ice frowned and typed, "I can drive. What's up?" then got out of the car and headed for the house, eyes fixed on his phone.

"My parents just told me that we can either double date or they'll drop me off and pick me up."

That didn't seem like a big deal to Ice. "What would you rather do?" he sent. Although he'd planned to pick her up, he was okay with meeting her at the school—it would get him out of the inevitable awkwardness of meeting her parents.

"I'd rather go with friends than have my parents drive me!"

The exclamation point made Ice chuckle; he certainly didn't miss having his mom drive him everywhere. "Do you know someone who'd want to ride with us?" He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, where he was enveloped by the aroma of cumin, chili peppers, and beef. He was relieved to find that chili actually sounded appetizing.

"As a matter of fact I do lol do you know Audrey Hayes?"

Ice let loose an exasperated exhale as he slipped his jacket off and tossed it on the arm of the couch. Seriously? Audrey Hayes? She was Corey's ex-girlfriend. "Not really." It was the truth. Corey had introduced her to Ice, but the most he'd ever exchanged with her was a nod or a one-word pleasantry.

"I'm pretty sure they'd go with us. I know her boyfriend doesn't have a car."

"Awesome," Ice breathed sarcastically. He typed, "Sure. Works for me."

"Is that you, Ice?" his mom called from the kitchen. A moment later, she appeared in the archway. "I thought I heard you come in."

He held up his phone. "Yeah, Lynn texted me just as I pulled in. We're finalizing plans for the dance Friday." Lowering his gaze to the phone, he saw Lynn's reply. "Great. I'll ask her and let you know."

He glanced back up to find his mom's eyebrows rounded in interest. "Apparently we're double dating," he explained.

Ice could see that she was trying to evaluate his opinion on the circumstances. "That could be fun."

He sent Lynn an "Ok" and pocketed the phone. "It'd be more fun for me if they were my friends, but it'll be a stranger and Corey's ex."

"Oh." She slowly bowed her head in a knowing nod. "Well, you're really just riding together; there will be a lot of other kids at the dance." She retreated back into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to put the cornbread in the oven now that you're here. It'll be done in twenty minutes."

Ice considered the game controller but decided twenty minutes would fly by so fast it wasn't really worth it. Instead he went to his bedroom and fired up his laptop. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he tossed it on the end of the bed and then flopped down next to it. As he reached for the computer, he noticed Lynn had sent another text.

Apparently she didn't regard their last exchange as the end to their conversation. Instead she'd asked a tough question: "So do you like to dance?"

Shoot. How was he supposed to answer that? Most of his dancing experiences had been at tribal ceremonies, which he did enjoy, but wasn't about to admit to a girl. However, he knew he had rhythm and didn't mind dancing in front of other people, but none of that compared to a school dance. Feeling the longer time stretched, the more phony his answer would sound, Ice hastily sent, "Sometimes."

He assumed he'd have to explain, but he'd bought himself a few more seconds to think.

Lynn's response, however, came back immediately. "Sometimes?"

Ice sighed. Then he typed, "Yeah, it depends-" he paused, trying to think of what he could say without getting into the whole tribal ceremony subject. Then a broad grin spread across his face as he finished, "it depends on who I'm dancing with."

"Haha. Good answer."

"But true!" Ice sent, warming up to text-flirting—so much easier with a little time to think.

"Well I love to dance so it sounds like we'll have a good time."

"That's the plan."

"Great! I'll see what I can find out from Audrey and get back with you later tonight."

"Sounds good." Ice tossed the phone down, pleased with how the conversation went. His stomach rumbled and he decided he might as well go set the table or whatever might move the dinner process along. He pushed off the bed and left the room, a smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth.

***

As Ice suspected, Nik wanted to pay a visit to Nesbitt's property himself.

"I'm fairly confident I can distinguish between human and animal bones," he told Ice on their way out of town the next day.

"So what're you going to do?" Ice folded his arms across his chest, curling his fingers in to keep them warm. He was less than happy to make this return visit. "Just walk out there and look behind his shed?"

Nik gave his apprentice a sidelong glance. "Basically, yes. That's what you did yesterday, right?"

"Yeah," Ice mumbled. "But we were sneaky about it. And that side of the yard was all shaded. It's going to be pretty hard to get back there without being seen this early." It wasn't as if they'd set out at the crack of dawn, it was ten a.m.; still, the sun would be on the wrong side of the trees.

"We're going now because you have hockey practice this afternoon," Nik reminded him. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

When Ice spoke to Nik the night before, he'd suggested they contact the police and report the pile of remains anonymously. If anything human was discovered, it'd be on the nightly news. But Nik said that even if human remains were found, it still didn't mean Nesbitt was necessarily a Windigo. He wanted to evaluate the man himself. "It's important that we find the reason the North Wind was here," he'd told Ice. "If we can confirm this teacher is a Windigo, it will at least give us a clue to who invoked the North Wind and cursed the man." As usual, Nik's reasoning made sense, but it didn't stop Ice from waking up grumpy this morning.

The medicine man clicked his turn signal, slowed and made an unexpected turn. Ice's eyebrows twitched upward as they pulled into the drive-through line at a coffee place. "Whatever you need to improve your mood," Nik explained.

Ice ordered a doughnut and a large coffee, which he found did, somehow, make him feel a little more positive about their venture. That was, until they turned on the dirt road leading to Nesbitt's place, and every jolt and bump jarred his bladder.

The cabin appeared identical to the previous day, Nesbitt's SUV parked out front, smoke drifting from the chimney. Nik rolled slowly past, getting a good look at the property. "Okay, I see the shed in the back."

"The next place up here is where we parked."

When Nik spied the opening, he pulled in, examined the area for signs of occupants and then turned off the truck, apparently satisfied. "I'd hoped we could cross through the woods to the back of Nesbitt's shed, but I didn't expect the houses to be so far apart. We'll have to take the road and then cut into the trees."

"First I'm gonna visit those trees over there." Ice pointed out his window.

"Fine. I'll meet you at the road."

As soon as they caught sight of Nesbitt's property, Nik and Ice entered the woods. Although the sun had melted most of the roadways, snow still remained on the forest floor and they crunched their way forward, lifting their feet high to clear the small brush and pushing aside the whip-like branches of small trees.

They peered through the forest every now and then, making sure they could still see the cabin off to their right. As they slogged forward, Ice was glad Nesbitt hadn't cleared his entire piece of land and placed his shed near the waterfront, or they would've had another hundred feet or so to go. Once they were beyond the cabin, Nik veered toward the property and the shed, which became more visible as they progressed.

Ice hung back, in no way eager to see the pile of innards and bones again. In fact, he had no intention of seeing it at all. He'd just wait while Nik inspected to his heart's content.

Nik continued past the shed and then cut over to the back of the small structure. Ice breathed shallowly, expecting the offensive smell to waft under their noses at any minute, but so far, he detected only snow, wet dirt, and leaves. Then the medicine man turned away from the back of the shed, a perplexed look lining his face. He motioned Ice forward.

Ice reluctantly trudged a few steps closer to his mentor.

"This is where you saw the ribs and the hand?" Nik asked.

Rising up on his toes, Ice peered over the medicine man's shoulder.

And saw nothing.

Nothing but a slight mound of fresh dirt covered in footprints.

"He must've buried it," Ice murmured. "Crap. Now what?"

Nik thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I'm going to go talk to him."

Ice pictured the glimpse he'd caught of Nesbitt, brandishing the bloody knife. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Nik."

Nik reached into his pocket and pulled out a red plastic cylinder about four inches long. Ice recognized it before the medicine man held it up and said, "I've got my bear spray."

"How do you know it works on Windigos?"

"How do you know it doesn't?" Nik chuckled. "Look, it'll be fine. You're going to be my back up. Stay out here. Take advantage of my distracting Nesbitt and snoop around. After I leave, I'll meet you just around the bend there." He pointed to the road.

"Okay." Ice was relieved he didn't have to come in contact with the man. Although he had no concrete reason for his feelings, his gut told him Nesbitt was not right. "Just be careful."

"Always." Nik nodded and then backtracked the way they'd come.

Ice waited behind the shed, shifting from foot to foot as inactivity allowed his body to cool down. At least he had on boots this time. He leaned to the side periodically to examine the cabin for signs of Nesbitt or Nik. Finally he heard the rumble of the medicine man's pick-up and the crunch of snow as he pulled into the driveway behind Nesbitt's SUV.

Ice crept to the side of the shed and listened as Nik got out of his truck and knocked on the door. The sound echoed loudly in the remote stillness. After a span of time, a second round of thumps resonated from the front of the cabin. A moment later, Ice heard Nik speaking and wondered how the medicine man would justify the visit.

Quickly rounding to the front of the shed, Ice grasped one of the door handles and twisted, releasing the latch so the other door swung outward. Freezing for a moment to listen for voices, he confirmed the men still stood at the front door. Ice had worked the plan out while Nik returned to the truck, knowing this was the only safe time to examine the inside of the shed—when he knew exactly where Nesbitt was.

A putrid smell escaped as Ice pulled both doors open farther. He held his breath, his brain conjuring horrific images while his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. He exhaled when he made out the forms inside—hides stretched on drying racks. All of them were animals.

Quickly, Ice closed and secured the doors. Seconds later, he made his way through the woods until he could emerge at the side of the house. Voices no longer sounded from the front door and Ice hadn't heard Nik's truck, so he assumed the medicine man was inside. He dashed to the cabin, flattened himself against the log wall, then sidestepped to the window and peeped inside to confirm Nik was there (and still alive).

He could see the main part of the cabin, which included the dining room and kitchen. In the back, an open doorway led to another room, presumably where Ice had witnessed the butchering scene. Hunting gear was strewn about; camouflage clothes hung on chairs, loose shotgun shells and ammunition boxes sat on the coffee table, and a rifle case leaned against the open door frame.

The medicine man stood near the kitchen table where Nesbitt approached, a pile of fur pelts over his arm. The teacher was dressed in the same sweats and flannel shirt that he'd worn the day before—the shirt still buttoned incorrectly. He moved slowly, almost as if underwater, lowering the stack of fur to the table.

Ice heard Nik say something, but the other man had gone still, his gaze fixed on the pelts. The medicine man spoke again, although Ice noticed he made no attempt to touch the unresponsive man.

Then Nesbitt started to shake.

Ice stared wide-eyed and moved so he could see better, no longer worried about being spotted himself. Nesbitt began speaking. Except instead of words, the man spouted a stream of non-stop gibberish.

Torn between maintaining Nik's plan and rushing to his aid, Ice's knuckles turned white as he gripped the window sill. Suddenly the babble stopped. Nesbitt shook his head like a dog extracting water from its fur and then picked up the top pelt to show to Nik—as if nothing had happened.

Ice was reluctant to leave the window, but it looked as though the man was all right for the time being—well, as all right as a crazy man could be—so he proceeded to the back of the cabin. Peering in the same window he'd only been able to glance into the day before, Ice surveyed the room.

As he suspected, it was a utility area. Across from the table under the window, and just inside the doorway to the main room, was a rack half-full of firewood. Next to it was a tower of heavy-duty metal shelving packed with everything from dish soap to motor oil. On the far wall, coats and life jackets hung on hooks. Ice thought he spotted a rifle in the corner, behind a mass of metal frames jumbled on the floor next to boots and shoes.

He cupped his hands around his face to block the glare and get a better look at the metal objects. Now he could see that the curved frames had jagged edges, like teeth on a jack o'lantern, as well as an attached length of chain. It was a pile of steel jaw traps. He could even make out the rust-colored stains on them that he knew were not rust, but dried blood. Ice stepped away from the window, the doughnut sitting heavy in his stomach.

Returning to the side window, he saw that Nik stood at the front door. As Nesbitt reached to open it, Ice dashed around the back of the house and into the stand of trees opposite from the side where they'd come in. Hunkering down in the thick brush, he waited until the medicine man was safely inside his truck before starting through the woods to their rendezvous point.

With one eye on the cabin to his right and the other searching through the trees for the road ahead, Ice paid little attention to where his feet landed. The corner of Nesbitt's cabin was still visible when his left foot sank through the crusty snow and he heard a metallic rattle nearly simultaneous with a loud snap. Immediately his ankle was engulfed in excruciating pain.

"Ahhhrgh," he yelled, grasping the nearest tree to keep himself upright. His first thought was that he'd been bitten by an animal, but when he looked down he wondered why he hadn't realized what happened instantly—why he hadn't been on the lookout in the first place.

His ankle was held fast in a large leg-hold trap. He groaned as the metal teeth seemed to press deeper into his skin and grate on his bones. Ice stooped and attempted to pull the jaws of the trap open and release his foot, but was unable to get the right leverage. Teeth gritted against the pain radiating up his leg, he dug his phone from his pocket then heard the crunching sound of footsteps. "I'm here," he shouted, relieved that Nik had heard his cry.

He waited as the footsteps drew near, calling out again.

But the figure that emerged from the forest wasn't Nik.

It was Nesbitt.

And he carried an axe.

Horror engulfed Ice and he froze momentarily, his thoughts scrambling for a means of defense. He had no weapon. No bear spray. Nothing. Then he realized he still held his phone in his hand and fumbled it in his numbed, shaking fingers.

Nesbitt was making his way through the trees quickly. Humming.

Ice thumbed to the contacts in his phone and found his favorites. He glanced up and realized Nesbitt's eyes glowed with an odd, yellowish hue from out of his emaciated skull. He managed to get his thumb on Nik's name before the demented man smashed into him.

Dropping the phone to free his hands, Ice grabbed Nesbitt's arm that held the axe and shoved it away from him as he fell. Before the man could topple onto him, Ice scurried backward, yowling in pain as the trap bit harder into his ankle bone. He'd reached the end of the chain fastened to a tree and the more he jerked against it, the tighter the jaws clamped down on his leg.

Nesbitt rose first to his knees and then to his feet, in no hurry since he knew his prey was tethered.

Ice crawled sideways using his elbows and feet, although he realized if he wrapped the chain around the tree, it would only grow shorter. His hands clawed the ground around him, searching for a branch or stick, anything he might be able to swing at Nesbitt.

The madman moved forward, breathing heavily and drooling. Ice found a stick and wrapped his fingers around it, yanking it from the dead foliage. He jabbed at the man as he came forward and yelled in despair as the stick snapped easily.

A foot rammed into Ice's chest and he hit the ground hard, gasping for breath. Before he could rise to his elbows, the foot pressed down with force, pinning him. "Don't do this," Ice begged, his voice ragged. "Mr. Nesbitt!" he shouted. "Please don't do this!" He hoped somewhere inside the crazed man a person still resided: a teacher, a human who wouldn't kill another human.

Nesbitt paused for a second, his face blank, eyes distant. Then he rasped, "Hungry," and swung the axe.

Terrified, Ice threw his arms over his head to ward off the deadly blow. He heard Nesbitt grunt, and the pressure left his chest. Ice pushed up on his hands and scrambled away instantly, wary of the next attack.

"It's okay Ice, I knocked him out."

Ice went limp with relief, his chest heaving to keep up with his hammering heart. "Nik," he breathed. "Oh God, thank you."

"Thank goodness I heard you yell. What the heck happened?" Nik's gaze took in the scene, and then understanding dawned in his eyes. "Aww no," he murmured, immediately squatting down to examine Ice's foot.

Now that Ice was no longer fighting for his life, the throb from his ankle became forefront. He moaned. "Ugh. Can you get this thing off me?"

"It'll be easiest if you stand up."

With the medicine man's help, Ice was able to get his good leg under him, brace a hand on a tree, and stand with the trap resting on the ground. Nik kneeled next to him and placed the heel of both hands on the levers on either side of the trap. Then he leaned forward and applied his body weight to compress the levers and open the steel jaws.

Ice gasped as the pressure released and pain flooded to areas that had started to go numb. "Son of a..." He drew in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them, the trap was no longer under his foot.

Nik allowed the jaws of the trap to close and tossed it aside. "Can you move your foot?"

Ice winced as his wounds protested against the movement, but his ankle seemed capable of full motion.

"Not broken then." Nik stood. "Let's get you to the truck. It's not far." He got a shoulder under Ice's arm. "I'll call the police on the way to the clinic."
Don't let yesterday use up too much of today.

Cherokee

Chapter 5

Ice left the walk-in clinic with a bandaged left ankle and instructions on how to minimize the swelling. Because he'd made the fortunate decision to wear boots with his jeans, he was lucky and suffered only a few lacerations and bruising from the steel jaw trap. The doctor said he didn't expect any lasting nerve damage.

Nik had called Ice's mom and she met them at the clinic. "When I agreed to let you apprentice Nik, I never thought you'd be in any dangerous situations," she said as she helped him into the passenger seat. "It's not supposed to be a hazardous job."

"It's not, Mom." Ice sighed. "This was an accident. I should've been paying attention to where I was going."

"What were you two doing out in the woods anyway?"

"Checking up on a guy. Nik thought he may be sick." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to lie to his mom.

He hadn't told her about his visit from the North Wind, unsure how much her traditional background would allow her to accept. She'd grown up in Chicago, a baptized Catholic who attended private elementary and high schools. She met Ice's father while at college in the Twin Cities metro area and not long after, she became pregnant.

Since she was unwed, her conservative parents insisted she give the baby up for adoption, and when she refused, they cut off support. So Ice's parents moved to the reservation. Just months after he was born, Ice's father disappeared, but his mom chose to stay anyway, preferring her adopted Ojibwe family to the one that'd shunned her.

Ice knew she recognized the Native American ways, but she'd been raised under a different doctrine and he wasn't sure she embraced all of the realities of their spiritual world.

"Well it looks like no hockey practice for you today," she said, not quite placated by his explanation, but willing to move on. "Do you need me to call someone?"

"No. I'll text Troy." He waited until his mom swung the door shut and then fished his phone from his pocket. "Guess I'll find out if it survived sitting in the snow," he mumbled to himself, doing his best to ignore his throbbing ankle. The screen lit, which was an encouraging sign. He typed a message, saying simply that he'd injured his ankle, but should be fine in time for the upcoming game. That's all Troy would want to know. He pressed send, holding his breath and willing the phone to function.

When the display announced that his text was delivered, he exhaled, relieved. Then he realized he'd better tell Lynn what was going on. If she didn't see him at practice and asked her brother where he was, Ice didn't want her to think their date was off tomorrow. Wrapped ankle or not, Ice was determined to make it to the dance.

His main objective, of course, was spending some time with Lynn and getting to know her, but after today, Ice was motivated to learn anything he could about Mr. Nesbitt from other kids. Nik was now fully convinced the man was under a Windigo curse.

When the police had arrived at Nesbitt's cabin, the man was gone, as was his SUV. They excavated the mound of earth behind the shed, finding only animal bones, but because he'd attacked Ice with an axe, they issued an all-points bulletin for local law enforcement to look for the missing teacher.

Now that finding Nesbitt was a police concern, Nik and Ice needed to concentrate on who might have called the North Wind to curse the man. If they could find that person, there may still be a chance to lift the curse before anyone fell prey to the Windigo.

How they would do that, Ice had yet to find out.

Until his mom reached over and stilled his hand, Ice hadn't realized he'd been tapping the phone against his leg. He had to tell Lynn something, but unlike Troy, she'd want details and Ice wasn't sure he wanted to share the true story. It made him sound careless and raised too many questions.

Finally he decided to tell her he wrenched his ankle in the woods while hunting. It was at least close to the truth and sounded better than stepping into a trap. He added, "So I can't play hockey today but don't worry, we're still on for the dance. Probably no fancy moves though..."

It took a few minutes before Lynn replied. "Oh no, hope you feel better! Glad we're still on... maybe we'll just slow dance all night ;)" Ice felt his cheeks warm and was glad his mom's attention was on the road. He deliberated over how to respond when Lynn spared him by changing the subject. "Hey I talked to Audrey—they'll go with us."

"Ok cool. Will they meet at your house or am I picking everyone up?" He didn't mind chauffeuring for everyone as long as they didn't live too far from town, and he'd definitely want to get Lynn first to avoid awkward silences in the car with people he didn't know.

Ice's mom pulled into the driveway. "Wait for me to help you," she commanded as Ice reached for the door handle.

He swung the door open, but did as he was told and waited for her to round the car and help him maneuver his bandaged foot over the door jamb. The dull ache escalated to a pulsing pain as soon as the foot was no longer in a resting state. Although he could've made it to the house by himself, he let his mom take his arm to satisfy her mothering instincts. "On the couch," she ordered as they came through the door.

Ice had no objection to her command and eased onto the couch, propping his injured foot on the coffee table with a sigh of relief. Then he checked for Lynn's reply.

"Actually, Audrey will be here. She's spending the night. I can ask if Dale can get a ride over here if you want."

Ice drew in a sharp breath when he saw the name "Dale." No, he told himself, it probably wasn't him. There must be more than one Dale at Cass High. "Ok just let me know."

"Hang on. Audrey's right here."

He stared at his phone, wondering if he should ask for Dale's last name. He had no reason to—technically, all he needed was the guy's address if he was going to pick him up. His mom appeared in the doorway. "Grilled ham and cheese?"

"Sure, sounds great." His stomach rumbled, as if in agreement. It'd been a long time since the doughnut Nik bought him.

Then Lynn was back. "Ok so Dale could use a ride if it's not out of your way." Ice felt his chest tighten as he read her general description of where Dale lived. He swore under his breath.

"That's right by me. What street?" Ice knew the answer before it arrived. He'd spent a good portion of his childhood around the block on—

"Wayside"

"Dale Quinn" He didn't bother with a question mark.

"Yeah! You know him?"

Sure, he knew Dale. In fact, Ice and Dale had been best friends from kindergarten up until middle school, when Nik had chosen Ice as his apprentice. Ice typed, "I used to when we were kids."

"Cool! You guys can catch up"

Ice snorted and shook his head—what were they? A couple of middle-aged women? Besides, he very much doubted Dale wanted to know what Ice had been up to. If he had, he wouldn't have let their friendship die in the first place.

In the beginning, Ice and Dale were thrilled to be two of the five candidates Nik had selected as possible recruits. At least forty kids had shown up for the initial screening—which appeared to be little more than a handshake. Ice would never forget the feeling as the medicine man engulfed his smaller hand in both of his hands. The room around them fell away as a vision filled Ice's head: some kind of ceremony, the participants wearing traditional dress, chanting and waving stalks of grain as they circled a roaring fire. Then Nik's face materialized, his eyebrows arched thoughtfully and his lips curved in a slight smile.

Ice was directed back to his seat where Dale soon joined him and they listened with growing excitement as Nik murmured his thanks to most of the other kids and gently sent them out of the room. In the end, four boys and one girl remained.

Over the next month, each child met with the medicine man individually, and in the end, Nik chose Ice to be his apprentice. This didn't mean the other candidates couldn't become shamans in their own right, only that Nik would not mentor them. The medicine man considered the passing on of his wisdom and knowledge a personal process to be shared on a one-on-one basis.

At the time, Dale was happy for Ice—or so he said. But as Ice began training, Dale never wanted to hear anything about it, claiming he wasn't interested, and the awkward space between them grew quickly. Finally, when Dale started middle school and Ice began homeschooling, it seemed they no longer had anything in common, and their friendship fizzled out.

Ice sighed heavily, staring at Lynn's words, searching for a reply. He refused to dignify her suggestion with a response, even though he knew she had no idea of the history involved. He settled on, "Guess it makes sense to pick him up first—as long as he's ok with it." He hoped she passed the message on to Audrey, and Audrey to Dale. He didn't want Dale to be surprised to see Ice show up at his house tomorrow night.

"I'll tell Audrey to let him know."

"Thanks I'll get Dale around 6:15. That should get us to your house a little after 6:30."

"I can't wait"

Ice slapped his phone down on the couch cushion next to him just as his mom entered the room with his sandwich. Her eyebrows inched upward as she scrutinized him. "Something wrong?" She handed him the plate and waited.

"Thanks, Mom," he said and set the plate on his lap. "Remember I told you Lynn and I are going to the dance with Corey's ex-girlfriend?" When she nodded, he continued. "Her new boyfriend is Dale Quinn. And I have to pick him up tomorrow."

"Ohhh," she let the sound trail off. "Well, you do know him. I mean you two never hated each other or anything."

"No—not that I can speak for him. Although he did get pretty hostile."

"I remember." She gazed at her son sympathetically. "Maybe enough time has passed. Maybe he's gotten over his disappointment or jealousy—whatever his problem was."

Ice sighed. "Yeah. Maybe." 
Not every sweet root gives birth to sweet grass.

Native American Proverb

Chapter 6

While Nik worked on setting up an emergency meeting of the medicine man society, Ice spent most of the next day doing homework and babying his foot. Periodic icing had reduced the swelling and, aside from the broken skin, his ankle looked close to normal. He still hobbled a bit, since it hurt to put his full weight on the foot, but he was surprised and glad at how much better it felt today.

After his shower, he carefully bandaged the ankle, making sure he could wear a shoe, then pulled on clean jeans, grateful the dance was casual. He chose a t-shirt, not too faded, and went to his closet for a button-up shirt.

He was rifling through the hangers when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. "You can come in," he said, recognizing his mom's soft touch.

She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Are you eating dinner before you go?"

Ice shook his head. "I don't have time. Besides, I doubt I could eat now anyway." He turned back to his closet. "I had a snack before my shower, though. I'll be fine."

"Okay. So you've got butterflies? Can I help calm you down?" she said with a small laugh as she stepped into the room.

Ice glanced at her. "I wish." He held up a shirt on a hanger. "Maybe you can help me pick out a shirt."

He half-expected her to suggest one of his dressier shirts, but instead she reached for a blue and black plaid. "This one looks really great with your eyes."

The shirt was actually a favorite of Ice's, washed enough to be soft and comfortable, yet still looked respectably new. As he slid his arms into the sleeves, the familiarity of the smooth cotton on his skin seemed to quell his rising nerves. "Sure it's all right?"

His mom's eyes reflected her warm smile. "I think you look very handsome."

Even though she was his mom, her compliment bolstered Ice's confidence. She never let him leave the house underdressed. He stepped in front of the mirror over his dresser and swiped his hand through his hair a few times. It would have to do.

Jacket on, keys in his hand, Ice turned to tell his mom good-bye and found her standing right behind him. She held up a twenty dollar bill. "In case you go out after," she said, pressing it into his hand.

"You don't have to do that, Mom."

"I know." She enfolded him in an affectionate hug. "I hope you have fun."

"Thanks." He gave her a quick squeeze and was out the door.

The buzzing of his nerves escalated as he drove around the block. He swung his Jeep into Dale's driveway, hoping Audrey had relayed the message. He wasn't sure if he needed to knock or if Dale would be waiting, but he was content to wait a few minutes rather than have the awkward experience of chatting with one of his parents.

It didn't take long, though, for Dale's tall form to emerge from the front door. Growing up, Ice had been taller, but in middle school Dale had shot up and passed Ice's six foot mark. The other boy's jaw appeared to be set with a careful lack of expression as he approached the Jeep. He paused at the passenger door and then took another step toward the back door until Ice ducked his head to meet his gaze. He delivered a "don't be an idiot and sit in the back" look, which Dale seemed to understand because he climbed into the front seat.

"Thanks," Ice said dryly. "I'll let you sit in the back when we pick up Lynn and Audrey." The joke was a lame effort to break the ice.

The only response was the click of Dale's seat belt buckle.

Ice backed from the driveway and headed for the main road. When his GPS app stopped jabbering at him, he attempted conversation. "I'm sorry about your great grandpa. He'll be missed—I'll miss him," he amended. "He was a big part of my childhood."

As far back as he could remember, Ice and Dale had been enthralled by Great Cloud's stories. In his adolescent mind, Ice had considered the man to be his grandfather as well. A few days before Ice's vision quest, Great Cloud passed away. Ice assisted at the death ceremony just before he left.

Dale didn't reply. Nor did he shift his gaze from the side window.

Ice sighed inwardly. After he and Dale lost contact, and as Ice matured, the reason for the other boy's resentment became evident. In addition to being a revered medicine man, Dale's great grandfather had been Nik's mentor; of course Dale would've wanted to be Nik's apprentice. He felt guilty for not seeing the truth back then. Maybe things could've been different between him and Dale if he'd understood why his friend was so disgruntled by Nik's decision.

Two stop lights later, Ice tried again. "How's your Grams doing?" he asked gently, thinking an actual question might elicit Dale to speak.

"She had a stroke," Dale answered, his voice flat. "She can't even talk."

Ice knew about the stroke. Grams was Great Cloud's daughter and caretaker; her stroke happened the day he died. "Is there a chance she will?"

"Slim." Dale rubbed his palms on his jeans. "The worst part is she seems a little out of it. Last time I saw her, she jumped at me."

"Jumped at you?" Ice glanced at Dale who now faced forward.

"Yeah." His shoulders tensed and he shook his head. "Like tried to attack me, but she was too weak. My mom tried to tell me she wanted to hug me." Dale snorted. "She didn't see Grams' face."

"Wow, that sucks." Ice sort of regretted bringing the subject up. Although he'd gotten Dale to talk, he'd also succeeded in sullying the mood. "So have you and Audrey been together a while?" He knew the answer, but it was his first thought to broach a lighter subject.

"Not that long. A couple weeks."

Ice scoured his brain for more to say, but was also getting tired of trying so hard to start a conversation. As the period of silence stretched out, he considered turning on the radio, then Dale asked, "How do you know Lynn?"

"I play hockey with her brother. She stays around for practice, probably because he's her ride home." Ice thought for a moment then added, "Truthfully, I hardly know her at all and I'm nervous as hell about tonight."

The admission made Dale turn his head toward Ice, but he didn't comment. Ice looked over and caught his raised eyebrows. "What? It's hard to meet girls when you're not in school."

Dale's mouth curved up at the corners. "Yeah, okay."

The GPS directed them off the main road and into a subdivision, and although the tension between him and Dale had receded, Ice's nerves remained taut. As he wove his way into the neighborhood of nice homes, his heart seemed to move into his throat.

They arrived at Lynn's address about five minutes early. Had he been by himself, Ice probably would've passed the house and made another loop around the block, anxious about the prospect of idle chatter with her parents. But as he pulled in the drive and turned off the engine, Ice had the reassuring thought that having Dale with him meant he didn't have to bear the burden of conversation alone.

He opened his door, wincing as he descended left foot first. In his worries over Dale, Lynn, and the dance, he'd forgotten about his ankle until he landed on it and swore out loud. Dale came around the front of the Jeep and gave him a questioning look. "I sprained my ankle," Ice mumbled in explanation.

Dale lifted an eyebrow. "Bummer."

Even though he'd chosen his regular winter coat over his Carhartt jacket, Ice felt a little outclassed by Dale's leather coat and boots as they walked to the front door. He hoped Lynn and Audrey weren't too dressed up or he'd look like a slob compared to the rest of his group. He drew in a deep breath as he limped up the porch steps. Since Dale made it to the door first, he waited to knock until Ice was on the porch.

A petite brunette woman opened the door and smiled as she pushed the screen door open. "Come on in, guys. You know they're not quite ready yet." She laughed. "I'll go check on the progress and let them know you're here."

Judging from the whispers and giggles floating down the stairs, Ice guessed the girls already knew of their arrival. From around the corner came the groan of springs and a clunk, which Ice identified as a large person rising from a recliner. Seconds later, a portly, balding man entered the foyer. "George, Lynn's dad." He extended his hand to Dale first, since he was closest.

"Dale," Dale murmured, quickly shaking the man's hand.

Ice extended his hand, and a flash of panic struck him since he never knew what kind of reaction his name would bring. And should he use his full name? In the few seconds it took for him to lean forward and grasp Lynn's father's hand, he decided Lynn had likely already called him Ice so he'd better stick with it. "Ice." He shook Mr. Ballentine's hand firmly, attempting to demonstrate confidence whether he felt it or not.

"Right. You're on the hockey team. I've seen you play. You're pretty good."

"Thank you, sir. I try." He managed a nervous laugh.

Just then the girls clattered down the stairs followed by Mrs. Ballentine.

Lynn wore tight jeans that showed off her long legs, topped with a loose knit shirt. She had on brightly colored footie socks. Her straight hair shone like polished mahogany and small gold sparkles accented her chestnut eyes. Audrey was the definition of the term voluptuous. All soft curves, including the curls in her brunette hair, she had sexy green eyes and pouty lips. She was solely responsible for the racket on the steps, wearing high-heeled boots with her jeans tucked into the top.

As Dale moved forward to hug Audrey, Ice smiled at Lynn. "Hey," he said awkwardly, hoping he was the only one who noticed his pounding heart. She returned the smile and said, "hi," then dropped her eyes. She was looking directly at his sneakers and Ice suffered a brief moment of panic before she said, "Oh thank goodness you're wearing Converse. I wanted to wear my flat boots," then disappeared into the back of the house.

Audrey fixed Ice in her green gaze. "Hi, Ice."

"Hi, Audrey," he responded, his voice carefully neutral.

Mr. Ballentine looked out the door. "That your Jeep?" he asked Ice.

"Yes, sir."

"Four wheel drive?"

"Yes, sir." Ice nodded.

Lynn returned with boots in hand and sat on the steps to pull them on. Then she retrieved her coat from the front closet and handed Audrey hers. "We'll probably go somewhere after the dance," she said, throwing the coat over her arm.

Ice noticed Mr. Ballentine had already exited the room. "Okay," Lynn's mom replied. "Have fun."

Assuming that was the signal to leave, Ice stepped out the door and then stood aside, holding it for the other three. They trooped out to the car and Ice gritted his teeth as he hurried to open Lynn's door for her. He inhaled deeply and tried not to limp as he rounded the front of his car. He blew out the breath before climbing into the driver's seat.

It did little to settle his nerves.

Here we go, he thought. Good or bad, success or disaster, this was it. This night was finally happening.

***

A rhythmic beat sounded from inside the gym as they stood in line to pay and have their hands stamped. Lynn and Audrey bobbed their heads to the music, intentionally exaggerating the motion, giggling. Ice looked at Dale, who studied his phone. For the first time he noticed the necklace nestled in Dale's shirt collar. As if he felt Ice's gaze on him, the other boy looked up.

"Your necklace," Ice said. "Wasn't it Great Cloud's?"

Dale's hand rose to touch the choker at his throat. Smooth beads in earthy colors formed a symmetrical pattern on either side of a round pendant. Carved into the pendant was what many would mistake for a stalk of wheat but locals would recognize as wild rice—a plant indigenous to Minnesota and a staple in the diet of both Native Americans and European settlers.

"Yeah. My mom gave it to me," Dale said. "She's been going through his stuff since Grams can't."

As they shuffled closer to the admissions table, Ice maintained a passive demeanor although his insides felt twisted into a ball and his heart thumped too fast. Why? Why had he voluntarily put himself in this uncomfortable position?

But as they reached the table, Lynn drew up next to him and linked her arm through his to show they were together. Her softness pressed against him and the scent he'd picked up that day outside the locker room wafted to his nose. Both things reminded him why he was here. As they approached the gym doors, Ice moved his arm behind her, lightly touching the small of her back, and ushered her into the room first.

The pounding beat of the music enveloped them and colored lights flashed on the dance floor. Lynn checked over her shoulder to confirm that Dale and Audrey were behind them, then struck off in the direction of the tables at one end of the gym. Finding a vacant spot, they hung their jackets on chairs.

Audrey took Dale's hand and flounced out to the dance floor, drawing him with her. Lynn turned to Ice with raised eyebrows. "Is your ankle up to it?" she shouted over the music.

Ice evaluated the mass of kids packed together, basically just bouncing up and down. He grinned. "I think I can handle it."

Not content to linger on the fringes, Lynn took Ice's hand and weaved into the crowd. Rather than let go when she found a spot she was satisfied with, she took his other hand. They more or less bobbed and swayed with the group until a line dance started. Ice watched Lynn for a moment, then threw up his hands and shook his head. She laughed and pointed to the concession table. "Water," she said loudly and he nodded.

When they were far enough from the speakers to communicate, Lynn pointed to a door. "I'm going to the bathroom. Get me a water and meet me at the table?"

"Sure," Ice agreed. He paid for the water and then dug into a cooler for two bottles.

"Missed you at practice yesterday," a voice said from behind him. Ice turned to see Corey wearing a mischievous grin. "Thought maybe you'd been eaten."

"You're closer to the truth than you think." Ice delivered the statement deadpan, then chuckled and told his friend how he ended up with an injured ankle.

"Holy crap! He came at you with an axe?"

Ice nodded, his face grim. "If it wasn't for Nik, I may not be here."

Corey swore. "So is Nesbitt in custody?"

"No. He was unconscious when we left, but by the time the cops got there he was gone." Ice noticed the dancers behind Corey were Dale and Audrey. His attention had been drawn to them because Audrey glanced continuously in their direction.

Corey's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "So there's a killer cannibal on the loose?" He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated shudder. "I didn't need to know that, I've already had one crazy cannibal dream, thanks to you."

"Hey, you didn't object when we were on our way out there," Ice chided, wearing a half smile.

Corey smirked at him and then his eyes focused over Ice's shoulder. "I think Lynn's looking for you."

Ice turned to see Lynn heading for the table. "Gotta go." Corey nodded and Ice hurried across the room.

They sat for a few minutes rehydrating and watching the dance floor when suddenly Lynn straightened in her chair, her gaze intent on something across the room. "Uh-oh," she said and stood up.

Ice also stood. "What?" He followed her line of sight. Apparently, after Ice walked away, Audrey had decided to talk to Corey. Lynn started toward them and Ice followed.

He saw Dale put a hand on Audrey's arm and she jerked it away, intent on whatever she had to say to Corey. Dale crossed his arms over his chest and settled an indignant gaze on the two of them. As Lynn and Ice approached, he stalked off.

"...is my business," Audrey ranted. "So stay out of it."

Corey put his hands up, palms out, and took a step backward. "Whatever," he said placidly.

Audrey gave him a final glare and then turned to find Dale gone. "Ugh!" she exclaimed, fists balled at her sides. Lynn stepped up and touched her friend's shoulder.

Knowing he would be unwanted in the girl's discussion, Ice turned to Corey with raised eyebrows.

Corey widened his eyes and lifted one shoulder. He shook his head letting out an exasperated chuckle.

"What the heck was that all about?" Ice asked.

"Audrey thinks I was talking to you because you guys came here together."

"What? I don't get it. She knows we're friends."

Corey shook his head. "I don't know, dude. But if I wasn't over it, I am now."

Lynn appeared at his elbow. "Ice? Will you go find Dale?"

"Sure." When she turned away, Ice sighed and rolled his eyes at Corey. His friend smiled sympathetically.

He found Dale in the hallway, pacing in front of a trophy case. Ice had no idea what to say; the awkwardness between them had increased exponentially. "Look," he began. "She thought Corey was asking me about her, but he wasn't." Dale stopped pacing but didn't look at Ice. "We were talking about hockey. We're on the hockey team together."

"She's not over him," Dale said angrily, his eyes on the trophies. "If she was, she wouldn't care what he did or who he talked to."

Ice blew out a breath. Dale had a good point. "She's with you. And she sent me out here to find you."

Dale finally dropped his arms to his sides. He walked past Ice without looking at him and entered the gym. Ice caught up in time to see him take Audrey's hand and pull her away from Lynn.

Lynn turned and met Ice's eyes. "Well, that kinda sucked."

"Yeah." Ice nodded. "It could've been worse though."

She chuckled. "That's true." Then she glanced at the dance floor. "Hey, we're missing a slow dance."

Ice followed her into the crowd which had become much less dense when the slow music started. She turned to face him, and he circled an arm around her waist, but before he could capture her hand, she surprised him by snaking both arms around his neck and stepping in close.

They swayed for a few minutes without speaking and then Lynn leaned in and whispered, "Thanks for going after Dale. You're a good guy, Ice." Then she brushed her lips against his cheek.

Ice's shoulders tensed and he forced his muscles to relax as he said, "It wasn't a big deal."

As they continued to shuffle slowly to the music, Ice realized Lynn had used her steps to move even closer. He scanned the room over her shoulder, trying not to think about the way her warmth pressed against him from chest to hips. He searched for a distracting topic of conversation, but Lynn spoke up first.

"So why does the hockey team call you Ice?" Her breath was a shiver on his neck. "Is there a story there?"

Ice chuckled. "Sorry, no story. My actual name is Ice. Shattered Ice. My mom named me for my eyes."

Lynn pulled her head back to examine his face, as if confirming he wasn't joking. Then her eyes grew round and even in the colored lights, he could see her blush. "Oh God, I'm so dumb."

"No you're not," Ice insisted. "Believe me, it's an occupational hazard when your name is Ice and you choose to play hockey."

She looked up at him through her lashes with a small smile. Then she leaned in and kissed him. Perhaps the kiss on the cheek and the familiar way she danced with him should've been a warning; still, Ice hadn't expected to kiss Lynn until the end of the night. And even then, it wasn't a foregone conclusion.

It took about a nanosecond to get over his initial shock and kiss her back. Seconds later, Ice felt a finger jab him in the shoulder and he swiveled his head to find a heavyset woman in her fifties shaking her head. "First warning," she barked, her stare boring into him while her buzz cut reflected the changing colors of the lights. "Next time you're out." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the door they came in. "And you're far too close—come on, you know the rules: face to face and leave some space."

Ice took a step back and mumbled an apology, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. But the teacher had already turned away and Lynn giggled. He gave her a puzzled look.

"Sorry." A rueful grin accompanied Lynn's apology. "I should've known. That was Mrs. Robertson, U.S. History. Now she's going to watch us like a hawk the rest of the night."

"Whatever." Ice shrugged, but he felt awkward and was relieved when the slow music tapered off and gave way to an electronic rhythm. The dancers began forming lines and Lynn nudged him to the edge of the moving mass. "This one's easy," she shouted. "Watch."

She demonstrated the moves and Ice had to agree, this was much simpler than the earlier line dance. He nodded and joined in, but his ankle protested after only a few minutes. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay." Lynn smiled. "I'm just glad you didn't cancel."

The rest of the night passed without incident. Lynn was right though, for every slow dance Mrs. Robertson hovered outside the ring of dancers where she could keep an eye on them. By the time the music ended and the overhead lights came on in the gym, Ice's ankle begged for rest.

"So I guess some kids are heading to the diner in town," Audrey said. "You guys game?"

Ice looked at Lynn; she smiled and nodded. "Sure," he replied.

They ended up crammed into a booth with three other girls and a guy who were introduced amid a flurry of babble. It was obvious the other kids were friends of Audrey and Lynn as the six of them chattered about an upcoming choir concert. Ice guessed Dale didn't usually run with the choir crowd; he mostly ignored the conversation while studying the menu.

Ice waited until the food arrived and the chitchat tapered off. The music at the dance had been so loud he'd hardly been able to talk to Lynn let alone anyone else. He wanted to at least tell Nik that he'd tried to get some information about the incident with Nesbitt, so he asked, "Hey, I heard a teacher was suspended. What's up with that?" He picked up his burger and took a bite as if the answer were unimportant.

"Yeah," one of the girls said. "Sounds like he was a creep."

"I had Mr. Nesbitt last year and didn't have a problem," said the other boy—was it Alex? "He graded kinda tough, but he was a pretty good teacher."

Ice heard Dale snort derisively.

"So is he gone for good?" Ice fueled the conversation.

"I would think so," Lynn commented. "I mean, you can't proposition a student and expect to keep your job."

"Well, I can't believe no one ever knew he was a pedophile," the girl across from Ice chimed in. "He's been at the school for like thirt—"

"Because that's not it," Audrey interrupted. "Everyone thinks he was coming on to that girl, but Dale was there." She elbowed her boyfriend and earned a glower, which she ignored. "It was more like he really wanted to eat her, like, kill her and eat her—cannibal style, right Dale?"

The look on Dale's face advertised that he did not want to talk about it. He took a drink of his soda, shot an exasperated look at Audrey, and then scanned the faces at the table. "Yeah," he finally said. "But I was specifically instructed not to talk about it." His tone said the conversation was over.

"Gross," the first girl said. "That's even creepier."

"Yeah, come on, I'm trying to eat fries with ketchup here." Alex made a gagging face and the table erupted with laughter.

Dale smiled, but Ice noticed the expression never reached his eyes. Something was odd about his former friend's attitude toward the subject of Mr. Nesbitt. He wondered if he could get Dale to talk if they were alone.

On the way to Lynn's house, Ice's thoughts were far from the Windigo problem. He wasn't sure of the customary rules of double dating. Did they let the girls get out and walk to the house together? If so, did they say goodbye in the car—all four of them present? That seemed wrong. The end of a date was a time for private words... or gestures. He pulled into the driveway and shifted into park, but left the vehicle running for a moment, hoping one of the other three would say or do something.

Dale did. "I'll walk you in," he said to Audrey, loud enough to be heard in the front seat.

Ice and Lynn watched as the couple passed in front of the Jeep, hand in hand. Ice released his seat belt and turned slightly sideways. "Thanks for asking me to the dance. I had a good time."

"Me too." Lynn had already released her belt and clutched her purse in her lap. "I hope we can get together again."

"Definitely." He smiled to hide his nerves. Why was he nervous anyway? He knew she would be okay if he kissed her; after all, she'd kissed him first. Before he could lean in though, Lynn reached out and grabbed a hold of his jacket. As she pulled him forward, he noticed a tenacious gleam in her eyes and then their lips met. For the second time that night, Ice was caught off-guard; both her presumptuousness and the open mouth kiss had him floundering to catch up.

He kissed her back, pushing his astonishment aside to enjoy the moment. It was a long kiss and when they finally broke apart, Lynn wore a smug smile. "Text me when you get home?" she whispered.

Ice mumbled something affirmative, then followed Lynn's gaze toward the house. Dale was on his way back to the Jeep. He reached for the door handle, confused by a bizarre feeling of relief. When they got to the door, Lynn kissed him lightly on the lips and said goodnight.

Ice's smile faded as soon as he turned away. He blew out a breath on the way to the car. What was his problem? Shouldn't he be feeling triumphant? On top of the world? His biggest worry—whether or not Lynn would like him—was more than settled. She definitely liked him. A lot.

The only explanation he could come up with was the Nesbitt thing. Maybe Dale would tell him more on the way to his house. Ice wanted to go home, text Lynn, and remember how great it was to kiss her.

Somewhere inside though, he knew the latter wasn't going to happen.
The traditions of our people are handed down from father to son. The Chief is considered to be the most learned, and the leader of the tribe. The Medicine Man, however, is thought to have more inspiration.

He is supposed to be in communion with spirits...

Sarah Winnemucca, Paiute

Chapter 7

Ice's hands were buried in his soapy hair when his phone rang. "Of course," he grumbled, poking his head under the hot spray of water and letting it rinse his hands and face. He quickly blotted his fingers on a towel before reaching for the phone. He'd left it in reach knowing somewhere it'd been decreed that if you were in the shower, the phone would ring.

As he'd expected, the call was from Nik. "Ice, are you up?"

"I'm in the shower."

"Oh. Well, good. I've got a lot to catch you up on. I'll pick you up about ten-thirty?"

"Sure."

"See you then."

Ice pulled the shower curtain closed, wishing he'd been able to talk. Nik sounded intent—and slightly eager—as if something was about to happen. He knew the medicine man society met yesterday, but got the impression his mentor had more news than what had happened at the meeting of the Midewiwin.

His mom's robed form appeared in the hallway as Ice stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. "It's Saturday," she said, bleary eyed. "What're you doing up and about?"

"Medicine man business. Besides, it's after nine." Ice crooked an eyebrow at her.

"Said the boy who doesn't move until at least ten o'clock on the weekends." His mom's tone was sarcastic, and she pursed her lips doubtfully, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Ice shrugged. "I guess I had a lot on my mind when I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep."

His mom examined him with a measured look. "Mmm. You'll have to tell me all about the dance over breakfast."

"I'm going to get dressed," Ice said and slid past her.

She sighed over-dramatically. "I'll go make some coffee."

It wasn't long before the enticing aroma of coffee and cooking meat made it down the hall and drew Ice into the kitchen. "Nik's picking me up at ten-thirty," he announced as he poured himself a mug of the steaming brew.

"How's your ankle?"

"Not too bad. It hurts if I put weight on it for an extended amount of time, but I barely notice it when I walk."

"That's good. I certainly hope you're not doing anything dangerous today," she said flatly, lifting the skillet she was tending off the flame and shaking it forward and back. The sausages in the pan rolled, sputtering.

"Actually, Nik didn't say." Ice sipped his coffee.

His mom gave him a direct, pointed look, but she didn't say anything further. With her attention back on the sausages she asked, "Waffles or pancakes?"

Content to eat oatmeal or something healthy every other day of the week, Ice's mom loved to have "real" breakfast food on weekends. "Waffles," Ice answered. Occasionally, he made himself pancakes, but he only had waffles when his mom made them. Using a recipe from her mother, Ice's mom actually made the batter from scratch, folding in egg whites at the end. The waffles were perfect, light and crispy, and Ice had long ago vetoed any kind of frozen premade waffle.

"Watch these for me?" She gestured at the pan of sausages. Without waiting for an answer, his mom left the stove and began gathering ingredients.

Ice rummaged in a drawer for a pair of tongs. He wasn't going to chance rolling the sausages onto the floor.

"So, how was the dance?" His mom had to raise her voice over the humming of the mixer.

"Good."

"Gonna need a little more than that," she chided, turning the mixer off and scraping the batter into a large bowl. "How'd things go with Dale?"

Ice plucked the sausages from the skillet and set them on a paper towel covered plate. "He was okay. Didn't say much." He'd learned nothing more from Dale on the ride home. As soon as Ice brought up Nesbitt, the other boy clammed up.

"And Lynn?" She poured egg whites into the bowl and turned the mixer on, stepping closer to Ice.

He sipped his coffee. "We had a good time. We danced. We ate at the Lakeside Diner after."

"Do you want to see her again?" Satisfied with the stiff peaks of whipped egg white on her spatula, his mom plopped a large scoop on top of the batter and began folding it in.

Ice got out the waffle iron and plugged it in. He'd asked himself the same thing last night as he texted with Lynn after he got home. She'd talked about doing something tonight. Ice told her he'd get back with her. When he put his phone down to go to sleep, and tried to invoke a feeling of contentment by remembering Lynn in his arms, his efforts fell flat. Instead he'd felt disconcerted. "Sure, yeah," he answered his mom.

"You don't sound too excited about it."

"It was one dance, Mom. I don't know how much I like her yet." That was the truth, he thought. He had some confused, mixed emotions and he wasn't sure why. Lynn was pretty, nice, and fun, and she was clearly attracted to him, so why did he feel so wishy-washy?

The last of the egg whites went into the batter bowl. His mom smiled over her shoulder. "All right, I suppose that makes sense."

As they sat down to eat, Ice asked about his mom's job—she managed the IT group at a shipping company—and was able to keep their conversation away from the dance and his work with Nik. He had one bite of waffle left when he heard the beep from out front, so he stuffed it in his mouth, chewing as he dropped his plate into the dishwasher. Then he kissed his mom on the cheek. "See you later. Thanks for breakfast."

"Let me know where you're going when you find out," she called as he grabbed his jacket. "And be careful."

Ice hunched against the cold and pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way to his chin. He scowled at the overcast sky, hoping it wasn't going to snow again, then climbed gratefully into the already-warm cab of Nik's pick-up truck. "So what's up?" he asked, clicking the seat belt into place.

"A lot." Nik paused for a passing car and then backed from the driveway. "We're headed to the police station."

"In Park Rapids? Did they find Nesbitt?"

"No. And no. They do, however, believe Nesbitt is in the area—he attacked someone."

"What?" Ice turned in his seat to stare at the medicine man.

Nik nodded. "Early this morning a neighbor called to report an intruder on Nesbitt's property here in Cass Lake. She hadn't seen him return and his car wasn't in the driveway, but she was sure she saw someone in his house. The police told her to stay inside, that they'd be right out. Apparently she decided to investigate anyway. It cost her half a leg."

Ice sucked in a breath.

Nik cast a troubled glance in his direction. "When the police arrived," he continued, "they found her unconscious behind Nesbitt's garage, her leg cut off at the knee."

"Oh my God," Ice stammered, thinking how close he'd come to the same fate.

"If there's a positive side to any of this, it's that the crime falls under the jurisdiction of the Leech Lake Tribal Police. I told them about our visit to Park Rapids, giving them a first-hand account of Nesbitt's condition and the way he came after you. They're convinced the Windigo curse is a viable theory."

Ice swallowed, pushing the imagery out of his mind. "The woman identified Nesbitt?" When the medicine man nodded, Ice posed his next question. "So if you've already talked to them, why are we going to the station now?"

"Because they understand we need to know how he became cursed." Nik rolled to a stop at a red light and turned his head toward his apprentice. "They've brought in a few of Nesbitt's colleagues on the guise of trying to locate him; they want us to question them as well."

Ice blinked. "Wow." This was nowhere close to what he imagined he'd be doing today. Then he remembered his mom's words as he left and took out his phone to send her a text. He let her know they were stopping at the police station to discuss the guy who set the trap in the woods.

When he looked up, Nik was slowing as he passed the attractive wood and stone building that was the Leech Lake Tribal Police Department. The medicine man swung the truck into the parking lot and pulled into a space. Upon entering the building, a woman in police blues waved from the glassed-in area behind the reception desk. "They're here for me," she informed the officer manning the desk. Ice didn't recognize her, but clearly she knew Nik. Her dark hair was twisted into a bun and she wore very little make-up on her brown eyes. "Thanks for coming." She pressed her thumb to a wall-mounted button. When a buzz sounded, she opened a door and ushered them inside.

"This is my apprentice, Ice," Nik said as they proceeded down a hallway. "Officer Rondele." He looked at Ice and gestured to the woman's back.

She looked over her shoulder. "Hello, Ice."

"Nice to meet you," he murmured automatically.

Officer Rondele stopped outside a closed door. "Generally we go out to question people, but because we wanted to interview all of the high school staff members, they agreed it was a better idea that they come here. High school has enough of its own drama without the police showing up." She caught Ice's eye. "True?" She laughed.

"Yes," he replied, smiling.

"As far as the high school staff knows," she continued, "Mr. Nesbitt was suspended for sexual harassment and then disappeared before the charge could be properly investigated. They're not aware we're looking for him for any other reason. We narrowed down the staff members to four people who knew Nesbitt the best. I don't know if you'll learn anything new, but you're more informed about this... condition than we are. Would you like to talk to all of them at once? Or one by one?"

"We'll start with all of them and take it from there," Nik replied.

"Okay." She continued to speak, but Ice missed the rest of her sentence because his phone chimed from his pocket. He hastily pulled it out clicked it to vibrate only. A brief glimpse of the screen showed that the text was from Lynn. He was fairly sure he saw the words "movies" and "tonight." Anxiety instantly fluttered to life in his stomach.

Then Officer Rondele swung the door open and he tucked the phone away. The conversation with Lynn would have to wait.

The aroma of coffee lingered in the small room, and Ice noticed Styrofoam cups in front of three of the four people. They'd been talking among themselves but looked up expectantly when Officer Rondele stepped inside. She made introductions and then left Nik and Ice alone with the four staff members.

After a few general questions, Nik excused all but one woman, Mrs. Whitman, who seemed to be Mr. Nesbitt's closest friend at Cass Lake High. Mrs. Whitman taught chemistry as well as one physics class so she regularly discussed department curriculum with Nesbitt. It also sounded as if they bonded over their mutual love of science in general. Ice thought she seemed mostly calm and relaxed, although a crease of concern lined the space between her eyebrows.

"Before Mr. Nesbitt was suspended, were you aware of him having problems with any of his students? Any one-on-one altercations?"

"Believe me, we all have altercations with our students." She gave Nik a reproachful look. "Generally on a weekly basis, as I told the officer. The Wednesday before his suspension, Harrison gave his students a test. The overall scores were low; some of the kids complained that he hadn't taught everything he'd tested them on. They even went to the principal about it. But these things fizzle out. Kids move on to the next drama fairly quickly." Her brow knit with confusion. "Why? You think one of his students... did something to him?"

Nik smiled. "We're just trying to get an idea of his state of mind when the incident happened." He pursed his lips, thinking. "Okay, let's try a different direction—changes. Including the most subtle changes; things that may not have occurred to you as they happened, but hopefully they'll come to mind now." When she nodded, he continued. "Had Mr. Nesbitt taken interest in a new hobby? Or something where he might meet new people?"

She considered the question, then shook her head. "Not that he mentioned to me."

"Was he dating? Or using an online dating site?"

She made a face. "Highly doubtful. He didn't seem to want anything to do with women. He claimed I was the only reasonable woman he'd ever met." She chuckled. "I don't think he ever thought of me as anything but a colleague."

Ice thought he might have detected a hint of bitterness in her voice, but then he also watched a lot of detective shows. The questioning—directed toward new people in Nesbitt's life—went nowhere, so again, Nik shifted gears.

"How about personal habits? Did he seem to be eating normally?"

Mrs. Whitman snorted. "If by normally you mean dieting, yes. Harrison tried every new diet that came along, Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers... You name it; he's tried it."

"Was he losing weight?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Yes and no. He'd lose weight and then gain it back. He was so caught up in the vicious circle of dieting that he'd started dreaming about food."

Nik narrowed his eyes. "What kind of dreams?"

"I don't know." She threw her hands up. "Food dreams. He didn't go into detail." Her arms collapsed into her lap, then she stiffened and leaned forward. "Wait. He did tell me about one, because he had it more than once. He dreamed someone was offering him food, which he would refuse. The odd thing, he said, was that he truly didn't want the food—as if he knew something were wrong with it, like it was poisoned or something."

Ice watched as Nik's posture became rigid, although the medicine man kept his face carefully impassive. "This was recent?"

"Yes, just before his suspension." Mrs. Whitman frowned.

"But as far as you know, he refused the food?"

"How can this possibly be relevant?" she asked, huffing out a breath with a shake of her head.

"Ma'am, as Officer Rondele explained, I'm a medicine man. In my line of work, dreams are often relevant," Nik explained kindly. "Do you know the answer to the question?"

She blinked. "No." Her voice was hushed. "I don't know for sure. But I suggested that maybe if he ate the food, his dream would go away. Is that bad?" Concern furrowed her brow.

"I assure you, Mrs. Whitman," Nik used a firm and sincere tone. "Whatever happened to Mr. Nesbitt was not your fault."

***

"So the North Wind visited Nesbitt in a dream, offered him human flesh, which he ate, thus becoming a Windigo," Ice stated as they crossed the parking lot.

"I'd put money on it," the medicine man agreed. Most of the warmth in the truck had dissipated while they were in the police station so as soon as the engine roared to life, Nik cranked the heat up to high.

"I'm not sure where that gets us, though," Ice muttered. "We already knew someone called the North Wind, the only new information is the way Nesbitt became a Windigo."

"Another piece of the puzzle." Nik backed from the parking space. "I did learn some interesting things at the Midewiwin meeting. Did Great Cloud ever tell you about taking part in a Windigo ceremony?"

"You mean the dance? With the masks?"

"I believe so—I've never seen it myself," Nik said. "The last time it was performed was many years ago, on Star Island. Nine men participated; Great Cloud was one of them."

"At Lake Windigo," Ice interjected. "That's right. I always wondered if that's how the lake got its name." Lake Windigo had made it into "Ripley's Believe It or Not!" in the 1950s as the only spring-fed lake on an island in the middle of a river-fed lake in the northern hemisphere.

Ice also knew that Star Island, situated in the waters of Cass Lake, was once the location of an Ojibwe village. Those past residents regarded the anomalous "lake within a lake" as a spiritual place.

"Two of the nine men who participated in that last Windigo ceremony are still alive today." Nik flipped on his turn signal and glided into a left turn lane. "One of them, Graythorn, was at the meeting last night."

The medicine man paused until he'd completed the turn. "He said that as the world changed and starvation became less of a concern, the North Wind convinced a medicine man to use bad medicine to create charms which could spread the Windigo curse. He then gave the items as gifts to others in the Midewiwin. As you've probably already guessed, there was a sudden surge in Windigo activity. Eventually the cause was traced to the bad medicine charms.

"The objects were collected—there were nine—and each medicine man at that last Windigo dance took possession of one of the cursed items, vowing to protect it for their lifetime."

"They couldn't just destroy them?"

Nik shook his head. "No. The link to the North Wind's power needed to be terminated."

Ice frowned. "How?"

"Once the last spark of life disappeared from the possessor of the charm, the link would be severed."

"They had to have the item with them when they died?"

"Precisely," Nik replied. "Graythorn said that of the nine, they had confirmed this was carried out up until Great Cloud's death. Neither Graythorn, nor the other remaining Windigo dance participant, were able to attend the passing of Great Cloud."

"So... maybe he didn't have it with him when he died. And now someone else has it," Ice mused. "Wait, what is it?"

"Graythorn couldn't recall." Nik sighed. "He said the objects were all different: statues, small bowls, jewelry, and pipes—all fashioned from the bones of a Windigo. Obviously, the place to start would be Great Cloud's daughter, since she was his caretaker, but I heard she had a stroke and isn't doing well."

Ice nodded grimly. "That's true. I talked to Dale last night."

"Dale?" Nik's voice was an octave higher than usual. "Are you two friends again?"

"I wouldn't say that. And believe me; I was just as shocked as you are now when I found out I was double dating with him last night."

Even from the side, Ice could see the medicine man's eyebrow quirk up. "How did that go?"

"All right, I guess. He was quiet, but didn't quite give me the cold shoulder."

Nik didn't reply, and the intermittent snap of the tires rolling over seams in the road surface filled the interior of the truck. With the subject suspended between them, Ice decided to ask a question that'd been in the back of his mind for years, but he'd never found an appropriate time to ask. "Nik?" he ventured. "Why did you choose me and not Dale? I mean, he is Great Cloud's great-grandson."

Nik's chin came around and he studied Ice from the corner of his eye, then seemed to come to a decision. "Although it's technically none of your business, I suppose you're old enough now to keep it to yourself. You will do so, won't you?" When he caught Ice's nod, he returned his gaze forward, seemingly looking into the past as much as at the road ahead. "The two of you are very close in spiritual ability; Dale's is perhaps a bit greater than yours. But my final decision was based on your visions—the things you saw when I touched you."

"I saw a ceremony," Ice prompted.

Nik nodded as he slowed the pick-up and clicked his turn signal. "One of our oldest celebrations, to welcome the harvest."

"And Dale?"

"He also saw a ceremony or ritual. But the figures were robed and stood within a stone circle."

In his mind's eye, Ice pictured a rock-lined firepit. "A stone circle?"

"Yes. Like Stonehenge. There are hundreds of them in the British Isles."

"But..." Ice drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

"The ceremony he saw was druid or Celtic in origin." Nik paused, letting Ice digest the meaning of his words. "Dale's spirituality doesn't stem from his Native American roots, but from his father's Irish heritage," he finished. "I couldn't train him."

Ice realized his jaw had fallen open and he closed his mouth. They'd reached his neighborhood and Nik turned down his street. A hundred images of Dale flashed through Ice's mind as he saw his former friend in a new light.

As Nik pulled into the driveway, Ice suddenly sat up straight. "Oh no!"

The medicine man jerked his foot on the brake, throwing them both against their seat belts. "What?" Nik exclaimed.

"Sorry, sorry," Ice muttered. "I just remembered something Dale said last night. His mom has been going through Great Cloud's things. What if she gave away the bad medicine charm because she didn't know what it was?"

Nik's brow lowered, his lips pressed into a flat line. "That wouldn't be good. We should check on that."

The subject of Dale made Ice remember the text he'd received at the police station. He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Hey Ice! Me and Audrey and Dale are talking about going to the movies tonight - want to join us?"

"I may have a chance to talk to Dale face to face tonight," Ice said.

"That would be ideal. Is that him now?"

"No, Lynn texted me. She wants to double date to the movies." His inflection was about the same as if he'd just said was going to cut the lawn, or shovel snow.

Nik shot a questioning glance in his direction. "You don't sound too enthusiastic about it."

Ice sighed. He didn't know what the deal was with his attitude toward Lynn. Was he distracted by this Windigo business? If so, he was going to lead a lonely life as a medicine man. He looked sideways at Nik. "Have you ever thought you really liked someone and then, when you spent some time with them, didn't like them as much?"

"Of course," Nik answered. "That happens to everyone, all the time." He paused and then said, "I assume you're referring to Lynn?"

"Yeah." Ice let his head fall back on the headrest. "The thing is, there's nothing wrong with her. She's pretty and fun; we get along great. I don't know what my problem is."

"What about attraction? No spark?"

"No, that's definitely not the problem."

Nik chuckled at Ice's instant response. "So she wants to be more than friends."

"Yeah. She's made that clear," Ice said dryly.

Nik's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Sounds to me like she denied you the chase."

Ice rolled his head to the side to study the medicine man. "What do you mean?"

"Half the fun of getting a girl is the pursuit. Men like to hunt."

Ice considered Nik's theory. Could he be right? She'd made it too easy for him? She asked him to the dance. She kissed him first. She asked him to the movies. Was he that much a Neanderthal that he couldn't handle a girl that went after what she wanted?

As Ice stared dumbly at his phone, Nik spoke up. "Look, I can simply call Dale's mother; you don't have to go on this date."

Ice tried to remember exactly what Dale had said the night before. "No, I'll find out if she actually gave anything away. It's not like we had a conversation about it, it was just a comment he made."

"You could call him."

Ice nodded, but something held him back from either solution. He didn't want to make Dale angry.

Maybe deep down he hoped he and Dale could be friends again. "I know," he said finally. "But this way seems more subtle."

"Okay, see if you can learn anything. Call me in the morning."

Ice hopped out of the truck. Just inside his front door he stopped and typed into his phone: "Sorry, was busy earlier. A movie sounds fun. What time?"
Certain things catch your eye, but pursue only those that capture your heart.

Native American Proverb

Chapter 8

Driving around the block and pulling into Dale's driveway felt like déjà vu to Ice. Except he was a little less nervous this time around.

He'd finished his Saturday afternoon by cleaning the furnace humidifier and contemplating his old-fashioned attitudes. Heck, he'd spent time in a locker room, he knew that most of his teammates would laugh at his neurotic reactions to Lynn's advances and tell him he was lucky—and that he was an idiot. His musings also included the few cocky guys who'd make rude remarks like "she wants it" or "get some", but Ice knew where his hard line was—he wasn't part of that archetype—he just hadn't discovered his own basic set of dating guidelines yet.

He'd barely shifted the Jeep into park when Dale emerged through the front door. He plopped into the passenger seat. "Hey."

Ice responded with a nod. "How's it going?" He didn't receive an answer, but he hadn't expected one either.

The ride to Lynn's house gave him about fifteen minutes to talk to Dale alone, so he decided to be direct. "Hey, did you hear about the lady who was attacked this morning?"

"No."

"She lost part of her leg. It was all over the news."

Dale grunted in response.

"She was attacked by a Windigo," Ice said.

From the corner of his eye he saw Dale turn his head and felt the other boy's stare evaluating him. At least he'd finally gotten his attention. Ice briefly met Dale's gaze, letting his grave expression confirm the truth of his words.

Still, Dale said, "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Ice answered. "Nik and I have been investigating this. The teacher that was suspended from your school? We're pretty sure it was him. He was cursed."

Dale murmured something that sounded akin to "ton of a trucking hitch." When he didn't comment further, Ice asked, "Did Great Cloud ever tell you about a Windigo charm?"

"No..." The hesitant note in Dale's voice said he didn't want to have the conversation he knew was forthcoming.

"Nik met with the Midewiwin." Ice explained the story of the Windigo talismans. "Great Cloud was one of the medicine men at that dance. He had one of the charms which should've been with him when he died. We're wondering if that happened."

Dale deliberated for a few seconds, then said, "Grams had her stroke that day so only me and my mom were in the hospital room when Great Cloud died. My mom never mentioned anything about this. What is this thing, anyway?"

Ice frowned. "Only two medicine men who participated in the dance are still alive. Neither of them remembers what Great Cloud's charm was. There were nine items—statues, pipes or bowls, maybe jewelry—anything that could be fashioned out of bone." They were approaching Lynn's neighborhood and Ice let up on the gas to glean a few more seconds of time. "You said your mom was going through some of Great Cloud's things, has she given any of it away?"

Dale shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so."

The tone of Dale's clipped answers told Ice he was trying the other boy's patience, but he continued while he had the chance. "What about other people? Have there been other people in the house who might have taken something?"

"There were people at the house when we had his funeral." Dale bristled.

As the Jeep rolled to the end of Lynn's driveway, Ice threw out one last question. "Do you think there's a chance we could talk to Grams? So we know what we're looking for?"

Dale shook his head. "No way." His voice was hard and his expression strained.

Ice shifted into park and turned to stare at his passenger. "Would you think about this please? We need to figure this out. Eventually the Windigo is going to kill someone."

Dale glowered at Ice. "Then catch the frickin' Windigo. You don't need the charm for that."

"Sure, so we catch this one and whoever has this charm just makes another one." Ice was confused by Dale's hostility. Then movement caught his eye and he saw the front door swing inward. He had to go. "Look, I know your family is going through a bad time right now, and I'm sorry, but sooner or later someone's going to die." He pushed his door open and dropped to the ground. "We're just trying to prevent that."

As he started up the walk, he heard the passenger door open and slam shut, followed by a second slam as Dale climbed into the backseat.

Lynn appeared at the door just as Ice stepped on the porch. She burst from the house in a cloud of soft, spicy fragrance and burnished auburn hair. When the door clicked closed behind her, she turned with a welcoming smile. Ice shook off the cross words lingering in the front of his mind and grinned as he caught her in a quick embrace. "How are you?"

"I'm great," she replied.

Ice ushered her from the porch letting his hand drop from her back as they approached the Jeep. He opened her door and she slid nimbly onto the seat.

With Lynn directing him, and Dale sitting mute in the backseat, they arrived at Audrey's house about ten minutes later. The great debate on what movie to see played out on their way to the theater. Ice had assumed they already had a movie in mind when he heard from Lynn, and apparently the girls did, just not the same movie. Audrey wanted to see a creature thriller called "Swamped" and Lynn voted for what Ice thought of as a date movie, a romantic comedy, "Where Is the Love?"

Ice maintained that he'd follow Lynn's lead, and Dale simply said "Whatever," which didn't help settle the discussion. "Let's check times when we get in the theater," Audrey finally suggested. "We can always see different movies."

As Lynn and Ice entered the theater for "Where is the Love," Lynn tugged on Ice's arm and cocked her head to the side. "Let's sit in the back," she said. "We don't need people sitting behind us." Her comment seemed odd as there were only two other clusters of people in the seats and her reasoning was opposite most other movie goers who worried about the people in front of them. But Ice shrugged it off and followed her into the last row.

Since their movie started twenty-five minutes after the movie Audrey and Dale chose, they had a little time to talk while they started on a large bag of popcorn.

"So what does a medicine man do? Isn't it kind of magical?"

A chuckle bubbled up his throat, but Ice swallowed it when he saw that Lynn was serious. He shook his head. "Not magical, spiritual. We lead rituals and ceremonies, things like that."

Her eyes widened. "Oh." She took a sip of soda. "Are you like a priest?"

"Mmmm... kind of, I suppose."

She picked up a couple pieces of popcorn and chewed them thoughtfully. Ice scrambled for either a simple explanation of a medicine man's role or, even better, a different subject. Before he came up with either, Lynn had another question.

"Is the medicine man like, second to the chief?"

Ice chased his popcorn down with a drink of soda before he answered. "Uh, no... it's not really a... a rank like that."

"But he's up there right? He's important?"

Tribal hierarchy was a subject Ice wanted to discuss even less than the medicine man's function. "Yes," he said, then added, "Very important," hoping that a simple answer would help divert further questions.

"So it's a good paying job."

"Medicine men aren't rich," Ice replied blandly.

"Oh." A look of disappointment skimmed over her features for a moment. "Still, you're lucky you already know what you're doing in the future."

"That's true." He felt his positive attitude diminish a little. Her last statement though, gave him an opportunity to redirect the conversation and he dove for it. "What do you want to do after high school? College? Job?"

Lynn rubbed her fingertips on a napkin. "My dad says college, but I want to model."

"Can't you do both?" They'd lowered the popcorn level enough that Ice was able to gently jostle the contents of the bag to help distribute the buttery topping.

"Yeah, I guess. That's probably what I'll end up doing, just to make him happy. But I've already had some decent modeling jobs and if I get a lot of offers, I will quit school. These are my prime years to become a model. I can finish college when I'm older."

Her last few words were nearly drowned out when the movie screen beamed to life and a canned voice exalted the virtues of the concession area. Shots of the food flashed on-screen, most of them looking far more delectable than the actual products. The lights in the theater lowered.

"Commercial time," Lynn said.

As advertisements and random trivia questions blazed on the screen, their conversation moved to more insignificant subjects. Then the lights lowered completely and previews for upcoming movies started. Their bag of popcorn was more than half gone and Ice asked Lynn if she wanted him to get a refill before the movie started.

"No." She smiled and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. "I don't think we'll eat much more."

Once the movie was underway, Lynn settled into her seat and leaned her head on Ice's shoulder. Message received. He put his arm around her so she could snuggle in comfortably. Every few minutes she whispered a remark about the actor's antics, her breath warm on his ear and neck. The subject matter of the movie was light, and Ice was having fun murmuring conspiratorially back and forth, so the next time she leaned in to say something, he kissed her. He had to know what it was like if he was the initiator.

Lynn kissed him back readily. When he drew away, he saw her smile in the flickering light from the movie screen. "You're such a good kisser," she breathed.

His lips curved upward and he felt his cheeks color at the compliment. He hadn't dated a lot of girls, but he had learned how to kiss. Oddly, he could thank Dale for that. After their friendship died, Ice found himself saddled with Charlotte, a girl two houses down from him. Charlotte was also an only child with a single parent. Since the kids were old enough to be self-sufficient, their mothers had worked out an arrangement for them to be together at either his house or hers, rather than hire someone to watch them.

Ice and Charlotte were nearly two years apart; he was in sixth grade and she in seventh. They weren't exactly friends, and at first Charlotte acted as if she were babysitting for Ice. He quickly set that record straight and they forged a grudging companionship—until the day she decided they should practice kissing.

"I'm going to be blunt, Ice," she said, laying the ground rules. "You're not my type, even if you are cute. You have to promise not to fall for me or think I'm your girlfriend or anything."

"Fine," he'd replied, not sure he wanted to kiss her at all.

"I figure we could both use the experience, so why not?" she asserted.

Ice couldn't really fault her logic—besides, he was very curious—so he agreed.

It only happened maybe three times, with Charlotte bossing him around and critiquing every kiss. Though he'd never admit it, he did fall for her a little.

At the end of the school year, Charlotte and her mom moved to Duluth. She tracked Ice down online a few years later, and after they became cyber friends, Ice discovered why he wasn't her type: she liked girls.

But Ice would never forget her; Charlotte was his first kiss and she'd done him a big favor, giving him a measure of confidence in the dating world.

Lynn turned back to the movie and things were good for about three minutes until she turned to kiss him again.

Then again.

And again.

Finally, Ice said, "Hey, we're missing the movie." He laughed, although he was slightly perturbed.

Lynn giggled. "I don't really care, that's why I picked this movie."

Ice kept his face turned toward the screen, resentment building inside him. Movies weren't exactly cheap. Her reasoning for sitting in the last row was suddenly cast in a new light.

He couldn't deny his feelings any longer; beautiful as she was, Lynn just wasn't his kind of girl. The way she'd orchestrated every detail of this date led him to believe she'd done this kind of thing before.

Lynn reached for his chin, to turn his face toward hers, but suddenly, kissing her made Ice feel a little bit nauseated, wondering how many others had come before him. "I'll be right back," he said, stood, and hurried out of the theater.

In the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. Was he overreacting? Maybe this wasn't a regular thing for Lynn; maybe she just really liked him. Ice closed his eyes and shook his head. No. His gut feeling read loud and clear and if there was one thing he'd learned in medicine man training, it was to trust his intuition.

Checking his watch, Ice saw that there were at least forty-five minutes of the movie left. How was he supposed to handle this? Another guy entered the bathroom and went directly to the urinals. Ice washed his hands long and slowly, as if he were a germaphobe. Fortunately, the guy was eager to return to his movie and washed and dried his hands quickly, paying little attention to Ice.

Eventually Ice returned to the theater.

"Everything okay?" Lynn asked, a crease marking the space between her manicured eyebrows.

"I feel a little sick to my stomach," Ice replied truthfully. He sat stiffly in his seat, hands stacked on his belly.

"Do you want to go?" Lynn spouted the right words, but she sounded insincere, the undertone of disappointment coming through clearly.

"No. I'll be all right. I don't want to leave Dale and Audrey stranded."

Ice sat uncomfortably, staring blindly at the screen, wondering how to tell a girl she was too... easy? He couldn't begin to fathom a kind way to put it into words.

Dale and Audrey were waiting when they exited the theater and Lynn was oddly quiet. When they reached her house, Lynn popped the door open before Ice had the Jeep in park. "Hope you feel better," she said in a lackluster voice.

"I can walk you—"

She let the door swing shut on his words.

"Damn," came Dale's smug voice from the back seat. He got out and climbed in front. "What'd you do to piss her off?"

"Nothing," Ice replied coldly, which was the unfortunate truth.
In the old days our people had no education. All their wisdom and knowledge came to them from dreams. They tested their dreams and in that way learned their own strength.

Ojibwe Elder

Chapter 9

Ice ducked into the lodge, taken aback at the chilly interior. Ashes colored the walls of the cold hearth at the end of the room. Immediately the aroma of roasted meat assaulted his senses and his stomach growled.

"Welcome, welcome," said a gravelly voice. "Join us in the dining room."

Ice moved to the arched opening on the left. He stopped at the edge of the doorway, awe-stricken, and admired the table laden with food.

"Have a seat, Ice." His host stood at one end of the table, his bushy hair nearly touching the ceiling. He smiled invitingly.

Two people were already seated; one man was hunched over a plate, using his teeth to rip meat off a bone in his hands. The other, Ice recognized as he moved around the room and the boy's face came into view: Corey. Ice opened his mouth to speak, but no words came forth.

His friend met his gaze with troubled eyes. A piece of meat lay on his plate. Corey held a fork in his right hand and his left floated over a knife as if he were deliberating on whether or not to use it.

The host—perhaps an ancestor, since he seemed familiar and he knew Ice's name—pulled out a chair and gestured with his hand for Ice to sit down. The man's white hair framed a pale face, and as Ice came forward to sit, he could see the silver, wiry hair on the man's knuckles. "We have roasted duck, steak, kidney pie..." the man went on naming each dish on the table.

Ice looked across the table at Corey who was watching him intently.

The tall man lifted a platter mounded with pork chops and held it close to Ice's face. The salty, smoky smell of the meat wafted into his nose and the juices glimmered on the plate. His stomach rumbled again and Ice felt saliva building in his mouth. He lifted his fork and transferred a chop to his plate.

Corey, looking a little less nervous after watching Ice, picked up his knife and sliced into the meat on his plate.

Fork in hand, Ice studied the man at the end of the table for a moment. If he knew Corey and their host—even though he couldn't quite recall the host's name—he must know this other man.

As if feeling Ice's gaze upon him, the man looked up. His greasy lips stretched into a triumphant grin and his yellow eyes glittered with madness. A rivulet of meat juice formed at the end of his chin and fell to his plate.

Ice dropped his fork in horror.

He wanted to shout "No!" to Corey, but it seemed only the host here could speak. Instead, Ice lunged across the table and knocked his friend's fork from his hand before the meat skewered on the tines landed in the boy's mouth.

A great roar sounded in Ice's head like a wave breaking and crashing on a beach and the table dissolved beneath him. He opened his eyes to blue plaid. He was facedown in bed, one arm extended above his head and the other hanging off the side of the mattress. His heart was thrumming like a squirrel treed by a dog. He rolled over and scrubbed his face with his hands, finding his forehead slick with sweat.

The dream was clear in his mind.

He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, blinking when the display blazed to life. He quickly brought up his contact list and placed a call. As the phone began ringing, Ice sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, swiping the damp strands of hair away from his face. "Come on," he breathed. "Pick up, pick up."

Finally the ringing cut out and was replaced by a slurred voice. "Ice? Geez dude, it's like five a.m."

"Yeah," Ice said. "Were you just dreaming? Do you remember?"

The line was quiet for a moment and then, "Yeah. Whoa... you were in my dream."

"Uh-huh, I tried to stop you from eating, right? Please tell me you didn't eat."

"How do you... were you... did you have the same dream?" Corey eventually spit out.

Ice blew out an exasperated breath. "Corey! Did you eat?"

"No, you knocked the fork out of my hand." His friend was beginning to sound fully awake. "What's going on? Is this about the cannibal?"

"Yes, that's exactly what this is about. Look, I'll try to explain later; I've got to call Nik now. But do me a favor, try not to go back to sleep. If you do, and you have that dream again, don't eat anything."

Corey spilled out some choice words about not getting to sleep in, then grudgingly agreed to get up. "I'll play video games or something," he grumbled.

"Cool. I'll talk to you later." Ice ended the call and immediately dialed Nik.

The medicine man's voice sounded much like Corey's sleep-saturated voice except three octaves lower. "What's going on Ice?"

"I had the dream. The North Wind offered me food and I nearly accepted it," Ice spewed in a rush of words.

He heard Nik swear under his breath.

"I don't think it was an accident that I saw the North Wind during my dream quest, Nik. Somehow all of this must have to do with me."

"What makes you say that?"

"I wasn't the only one there—at the demented dinner, I mean. My friend Corey was there. It's personal now," he added grimly.

The churn of water from a faucet sounded in the background as Nik said, "Was anyone else there?"

"Yeah," Ice replied, his voice flat. "Nesbitt. And he was chowing down."

"Mmm." A dull clunk, followed by a slurping noise, filled the gap in conversation and Ice recognized the sound of Nik's coffee maker.

A sudden thought made Ice's heartbeat jump to his throat. "Nik." His voice was so low it was nearly a whisper. "Do you think Great Cloud could've given me the charm? He used to give us little trinkets every now and then."

"Ice," Nik said firmly. "Breathe. Calm down. You're not making sense."

Of course his mentor was right, Ice realized, and he sucked air into his lungs, releasing it slowly as he listened to Nik's logic.

"Great Cloud would never give something of such importance to a child. And Ice, you have no connection to Nesbitt whatsoever. You've been training with me for over five years now. I'm confident you didn't invoke the North Wind accidentally."

Ice's pulse regulated and his racing mind slowed to allow him to focus and reason. "Then whoever did is trying to spread the Windigo curse. We need to figure out who has that charm."

"And the sooner the better. Any luck talking to Dale last night?"

"No."

"Then I'll call Mrs. Quinn when it's a decent hour."

"Don't bother. Dale didn't think she gave any stuff away yet. Plus, I don't think she knows anything." He got up and began pacing his small room. "People were at the house for the funeral. What we need to know is if something's missing, and Dale's probably the most likely to know. I'm going to call him and tell him he's helping us."

After a moment's pause, Nik agreed. "Get back to me as soon as you're done talking to him."

Ice thumbed through his contacts for Dale's number, hoping an early morning wake-up call would convey the urgency of the matter. He was done asking nicely.

After his first two calls this morning, Ice expected the same bleary answer. But Dale's voice was clear and sharp, as if he'd been up for a while. "Yeah."

"Things have changed," Ice said without preamble. "We need you to help us determine if any of Great Cloud's things are missing. You'll know better than anyone else. Our only other alternative is to try and talk to Grams."

Dale breathed a long sigh that ended in a near groan. "Fine. I'll get the key. But you're driving."

"No problem," Ice replied immediately. "Can you be ready in half an hour?"

"Yes." Dale uttered his terse answer and then ended the call.

Ice told Nik to meet them at Great Cloud's house and then headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Forty-five minutes later, the boys stood on the porch, their breath making puffs of vapor in the crisp morning air as Dale wiggled a key in the lock.

Once inside, Dale moved quickly across the living room and paused outside the door to Great Cloud's study. "I don't know if my mom's packed stuff up in here, or what," he said sullenly and then swung the door open.

A wave of nostalgia struck Ice and he stood frozen in place. The room appeared the same as it did the last time he was here, so many years ago. To his right, two chairs flanked a window. Between them stood an antique table with a lamp. Great Cloud's easy chair was located on the back wall, a standing floor lamp behind it and a small table which doubled as a magazine rack on its left. A built-in shelving unit with drawers dominated the left side of the room, its shelves stuffed with books. In the corner nearest the door was a good-sized wooden table with a chair where Great Cloud worked on various projects—making dance sticks or painting medicine stones. Today the table was empty.

The room with its myriad memories brought home a crushing loss, greater than Ice's feelings on the day of Great Cloud's funeral.

"My mom hasn't touched this room." Dale spoke in a hushed tone. He motioned to the shelving unit. "He kept his medicine stones and stuff in the top drawer."

Ice remembered, but he didn't say anything, just moved in that direction. He let Dale open the drawer. The items were neatly compartmentalized by plastic divided trays. Ice stared for a few moments, drawn back in time by the sight of the familiar items. He was sure a few things had been added or used up in the half-decade or so since he'd last been in here with Dale and Great Cloud. Surely the stack of feathers and assortment of smudge sticks would've been used and replaced, but Great Cloud's medicine pipe was as familiar as the contents of Ice's own dresser drawer.

Dale reached to the largest of several hide pouches and passed it to Ice. "Here, count them."

Ice set his keys on the work table and poked his fingers into the bunched top to pull the sack open. Inside were medicine stones. He looked at Dale. "Wait, no. What we're looking for will be made of bone."

Dale took the bag, cinched it shut, and dropped it back into the drawer.

"When's the last time you looked in here?" Ice asked.

Dale shook his head. "Maybe a month or so ago." He surveyed the contents of the drawer. "Everything seems to be here. I don't think anything in here is carved from bone anyway." He slid the drawer closed and looked at Ice. "If this charm was that important, or if he knew it was dangerous, maybe he kept it hidden."

Ice scrubbed his face in frustration. "If he knew he had to have it with him when he died, you'd think he would've carried it with him."

Dale grasped the handles of the next drawer down and slid it open. Ice took in the drawer full of shells, beads, rawhide, and string, then raised his gaze until he met Dale's wide eyes.

"Bone beads," they said at the same time.

Ice's eyes dropped to Dale's neck. "The necklace," he said, suddenly excited. "Great Cloud always wore it."

Dale frowned, his hand moving toward his throat. "You think this is the charm?" He laughed humorlessly. "It can't be this necklace, I've been wearing it ever since Great Cloud died."

Ice blinked, his brain following the chain of possibilities. "Since he died?" He met Dale's gaze and held it. "When did your mom give you the necklace? Was it before Great Cloud died?"

Dale glared back at him, his brow knit tightly above confused eyes. He didn't answer.

The puzzle pieces in Ice's mind fell into place and began to form a picture. His eyes grew wide in realization. He clutched Dale's arm. "It was you!"

"What?" Dale jerked away from Ice's grip. "What are you talking about?"

Ice glowered at his former friend. "You don't have to play dumb any more. It all fits together."

"You want to let me in on what you're accusing me of?" Dale spat, his voice uncharacteristically loud.

"You're the one spreading the Windigo curse." Ice jabbed his finger toward Dale's chest. "You called the North Wind. Great Cloud's necklace is a conduit to bad medicine and you're using it!"

Dale threw his hands in the air. "Why would I do that?" he shouted incredulously.

"Because," Ice said, his voice low and soft, "Nesbitt was your teacher. What was your problem with him? Bad grades?" Dale's eyelids twitched up for a second. Ice continued. "Corey is your girlfriend's ex, and you think she's still hung up on him." Dale's steely gaze narrowed as he glared at Ice.

"And you're pissed at me because I'm Nik's apprentice!"

"That's all a bunch of bull-crap!" Dale snarled, but Ice thought he read a glint of fear in his eyes.

"Is it? Jeez, Dale, you've been angry at me for five years!" Ice yelled back.

Dale pressed his lips together and deep creases lined his forehead. He balled his hands into fists and for a second, Ice thought he was going to strike out, but Dale took a step backward. "Ha," he snapped. "You've just blown your own dumb theory. Even if Great Cloud's necklace is a bad medicine charm, I couldn't use it if I wanted to. I'm not a medicine man."

Ice gritted his teeth together. He wanted to shout back, but was at a loss for what to say. He'd thought his logic was sound, but Dale was right, he wasn't a medicine man.

"What the heck is going on in here?" Nik burst into the room and looked from one boy to the other.

Dale took another step back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ask him," he growled, glaring at Ice.

Nik turned to Ice, his eyebrows riding high on his forehead.

Ice opened his mouth, then closed it, scrambling for where to start. "Dale has Great Cloud's necklace," he spouted, feeling like a six-year-old tattle-tale.

Nik's gaze shifted to Dale, then returned to Ice.

"It has bone beads, and Great Cloud never took it off. It may be the charm we're looking for."

"That doesn't explain the shouting," Nik said.

Ice let his breath out in a rush. "I accused Dale of cursing people." He shook his head, bewildered. "It makes sense! He has a connection to all the victims."

"He forgot one thing though," Dale sneered. "I'm not a medicine man."

Nik pursed his lips as he scrutinized Dale. "Did Great Cloud give you any training?"

"No," Dale replied bitterly. "I wanted to, but he wouldn't. He said—" He broke off suddenly with a quick look at Ice.

Ice kept his expression impassive, fairly certain what the other boy wanted to say.

Nik's eyes didn't waver from Dale.

Then Dale raised his chin as if in defiance. "He said my spiritual power is Druid; it comes from my Irish heritage."

Nik nodded. "Can I see the necklace?"

Dale reached behind his neck and fumbled with the knot of rawhide. He took a step toward Nik and dropped the necklace into the medicine man's open palm. Covering the necklace with his other hand, Nik closed his eyes. His brow creased slightly and when his eyes opened, Ice read the concern within them.

"The necklace does contain a spiritual link." He fingered the pendant thoughtfully. "Although, if it is the Windigo charm, why would he have taken the necklace off before he died?"

"He didn't," Dale admitted. "My mom didn't want someone at the hospital to take it." His voice had dropped to a near whisper.

"Great Cloud wasn't wearing it when he died?"

Dale shook his head. A shadow of doubt clouded his dark eyes.

"And your grandmother? His caretaker? Did she know?"

"No, well, not until—" Suddenly Dale's jaw dropped and the color drained from his face. His eyes grew round with the dawn of realization and then filled with horror. He shook his head. "No," he whispered. "It can't be me." He spoke out loud but the words seemed intended only for himself. Curling forward as if punched in the gut, Dale steadied himself with a hand on the work table. When he looked up, his wide, haunted eyes sought Ice. "She knew," he choked out. "She knew but she couldn't tell me." Then he darted around Nik and ran from the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed.

Ice and Nik stared at each other for a moment, flabbergasted.

"Didn't see that coming," Ice muttered.

The roar of an engine sounded from outside the house. Ice gaped at Nik, who reached into his pocket to withdraw his truck keys. A surge of panic hit Ice as he felt his own empty pockets, then he remembered dropping his keys on the table to look at the medicine stones.

His gaze fell to the empty work surface. "He's taking my Jeep!" Ice exclaimed, and bolted for the door. He burst from the house in time to see Dale finish backing into the street and speed off.

"Son of a gun!" Ice shouted. He spun to find Nik in the doorway. "He took my Jeep!"

"Question is," Nik replied with an arched eyebrow. "Where's he going in such a hurry?" 
To me, an elder is one who reaches an age of wisdom. Someone who knows the cultural values and brings them forward.

A teacher.

Della Badwound, Oglala Lakota

Chapter 10

At the end of the street, Nik turned in the same direction they'd seen Dale disappear, then paused at the next intersection. Phone to his ear, Ice leaned forward, craning his neck to look both ways. The morning was clear and bright, the roads empty of traffic this early on Sunday. There was no sign of his Jeep. "That idiot!" he grumbled, slapping his phone down on his knee.

"Any idea why he'd take off like that?" Nik asked.

Ice slumped in his seat. "None." He glowered at the windshield and attempted to clear the fog of outrage from his head so he could think. "It's like suddenly he was convinced that he could be the one spreading the curse—even after you agreed he couldn't use the charm."

The tense set of the medicine man's jaw and his furrowed brow planted a kernel of trepidation at Ice's core. "Nik?" His voice faltered and he swallowed. "What is it?"

The medicine man shot a quick glance at his apprentice. "I'm afraid I'm wrong."

"Wrong. Wrong about what?" His mentor was never wrong. "The charm? You think maybe he could use it?"

"He has a strong spiritual link," Nik admitted grimly. "The charm—an open conduit to the spirit world—rested directly on his skin. Vengeful thoughts about specific people or situations must have translated directly to the North Wind, calling the spirit's attention. When it visited you, you said the manitou referenced fixing a problem, or something like that, right?"

Ice nodded. "But why did the North Wind come to me and not Dale?"

"Probably because of spiritual awareness. Dale didn't know he was transmitting his thoughts, so he wasn't prepared to receive an answer. But you were on a vision quest, open to communication with the spirits. The lines were crossed, so to speak."

The sense of dread that descended over Ice prevented him from feeling any sort of triumph that his theory seemed to be correct. Heck, he didn't want Dale to be at fault; the details had simply fallen into place. As the confrontation replayed itself in his head, Ice reflected that he certainly could've handled things better. But he'd just been so angry about the dream—about being tempted to eat human flesh—that the instinct to lash out had taken over.

"What did he say before he ran out?" Nik asked. "I didn't catch it."

Ice thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure he said 'she knew but she couldn't tell me.'"

"Who do you think he was referring to?"

"His mom?" Ice frowned. "That doesn't make sense though. If his mom knew what the necklace was, why would she give it to Dale and not tell him?"

A moment of silence stretched out as Ice and Nik contemplated Dale's words. Then Ice snapped his fingers. "Couldn't," he exclaimed, "as in physically unable to speak. Dale was referring to Grams." Ice's mind raced through the few, short conversations he'd had with Dale about Grams. "She attacked him," he said out loud.

"What was that?"

"Dale said when he visited Grams, she like, jumped at him. His mom shrugged it off, but he seemed freaked out by it, said something about the look on Grams' face." He turned to Nik. "Maybe it was the necklace. She couldn't talk so she tried to reach for it, or point to it or something."

"Do you think he'd go to the hospital to see her?"

Ice frowned. "Why?"

Nik shrugged. "To get answers."

"But she can't talk, and he left the necklace with us."

The medicine man considered Ice's words. "Then I think we need to see her."

Immersed in his thoughts, Ice hadn't paid any attention to their whereabouts, but now realized they were in his neighborhood. "Where are we going?"

"I figured we'd try his house first."

A few minutes later, as Ice mounted the stairs to Dale's front porch; he reflected that he'd never knocked on the front door here. He always went to the side door off the driveway, and if the door was open, he just walked right in.

Mr. Quinn opened the door. He knew Nik immediately, and then his eyes widened slightly as he recognized Ice. "Come in." He stepped back to give them room. "What's up?"

The television was on in the living room, squawking an annoying product jingle that grated on Ice's raw nerves.

"Is Dale home?" Nik asked first.

Mr. Quinn frowned. "No. He took off before Sara and I got up this morning. Is he in trouble or something?"

"We just wanted to talk to him about his grandmother," Nik answered smoothly. "Is Sara here?"

Before Mr. Quinn could answer, Mrs. Quinn appeared in the hallway. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and she held a cup of coffee as if it were her life's blood. "What do you want to know about my mother?" She set the coffee cup on the half-wall separating the entryway from the living room, and leaned against the opposite wall.

"We'd like to pay her a quick visit," Nik said.

"Why?"

"We'd like to ask her a question or two. It's very important."

Mrs. Quinn shook her head dismissively. "She can't talk." She pushed off the wall and reached for her coffee cup.

"I understand that," Nik replied quickly. "All we need is a nod or shake of her head."

"No," Mrs. Quinn said flatly. "I don't want her to get upset." She turned her back and shuffled toward the kitchen.

"But Ma'am," Nik implored. "What I have to say might help her."

She turned in the doorway to the kitchen and looked at both Nik and Ice in turn. "No," she said, and disappeared from view.

"She's been so stressed." Mr. Quinn apologized, looking slightly embarrassed. He nodded toward the door.

Assuming the man was dismissing them, Ice swung the door open and stepped outside. Nik followed, and surprisingly Mr. Quinn also exited the house, hugging his arms against the chilly air. "Visiting hours start in an hour," he murmured, then stooped to pick up a paper shoved in a plastic sleeve. "Sara won't be there until this afternoon." He didn't look either Ice or Nik in the face until he ducked back inside. "Have a nice day," he said in a normal tone of voice and let the door swing shut behind him.

Ice didn't say anything until they were in the truck. "Did he just tell us to go see Grams anyway?"

"I believe so." Nik started the truck and backed from the driveway. "I thought we might need the family's permission, but apparently not." He paused at a stop sign. "Well, we've got an hour to kill. We should look for Dale and your Jeep. Any ideas?"

"His girlfriend's house. I'm pretty sure I remember how to get there." Ice did not want to call Lynn.

"Okay, point me in the right direction. Did you want to call the police?"

Ice took a moment to answer. "No." He sighed. "I'll give Dale the benefit of a doubt for now." He highly doubted Dale had taken his Jeep to go joy riding in the woods, but Ice still sulked a bit, thinking of all the lawns he'd mown and movies he'd watched at home instead of going out so he could save money. And he wasn't the only one who'd made sacrifices, his mom put in overtime, promising to match what he saved, dollar for dollar, so he could buy a vehicle in reasonably good condition.

When they didn't see his Jeep at Audrey's house, Nik turned back toward town. "I'll take the long way to the hospital, cover some roads we haven't been on."

Ice nodded. He tried calling Dale again, scowling when the call went to voicemail. He saw no point in leaving a message.

They arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes before visiting hours and Nik coaxed Ice into the cafeteria. The smell of food reminded Ice that he'd left the house without eating and his stomach growled, despite his brain saying he didn't give a crap about food right now. He settled on a cup of hot chocolate, barely tasting it.

Nik used both Grams' English surname, Jackson, as well as her given name, Calling Loon, when he inquired at the reception desk. The attendant gave them directions to the nurse's station closest to Grams' room. "Check in there first," she instructed.

The nurse manning the station looked at them dubiously. "Are you family?"

"No," Nik answered. "Spiritual advisers. I'm the tribal medicine man and this is my apprentice." He removed a card from his wallet and passed it to the woman.

The nurse looked from one face to the other, then seemed to come to a decision. "Okay, maybe you can help—we're afraid she's giving up." She rose, talking as she came around the desk. "The first few days Calling Loon was here, she was extremely alert and eager to communicate, but her right arm is useless and her left trembles too much to write anything legible." She gestured with her head for them to follow her. "I had to ask visitors to leave because she'd wear herself out trying to talk and making gestures. The last few days though, she's seemed more despondent." The nurse stopped outside a door standing ajar and turned to them, lowering her voice slightly. "The doctors believe she can recover some of her faculties; I sure hate to see her give up."

Ice sucked in a sharp breath when he caught sight of Grams. She'd never been a large woman, but now she looked shrunken, almost lost in the hospital bed.

"Calling Loon." Nik greeted her with a bright smile and approached the bed to squeeze her hand.

Ice rounded to the other side of the bed. "Hi Grams," he said quietly. Her right eye socket sagged, but the left widened. "I know." He smiled sheepishly. "It's been a while. I'm taller."

"I'm hoping we can help each other," Nik said, getting right to the point. He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew the necklace, holding it up so she could see it.

Grams' left eye stretched wide as she recognized it. Her gaze darted from Nik to Ice.

"Is this a bad medicine charm?" Nik asked gently.

When Grams moved her head, it jerked to the left, but she brought her chin down to make the movement a nod. Her eyes were full of fear.

"Did Great Cloud intend to be wearing it when he died?"

Again, she motioned affirmatively with her head, a tear welling in her left eye and escaping from the corner.

Ice stared as Nik held the necklace up and unfastened it, then deliberately wrapped it around his own neck and secured it. He pulled his jacket collar, letting the charm slip inside. Leaning forward, he grasped both of Calling Loon's hands. "Don't worry, I'll end the curse. This is taken care of now and Great Cloud will be at peace."

More tears spilled down Grams' left cheek. Her eyes beamed with gratitude and Ice watched the subtle shift of her blanket as a week's worth of tension drained from her body. The left side of her mouth lifted into a half-smile.

"We have some things to take care of now, but I'll come and visit again," Nik promised.

"What's next?" Ice asked as they returned to the truck. The sun was warm on his dark hair and had allowed the cab of the truck to retain some heat.

"Breakfast," Nik replied. "You've been up for hours; you can't survive on a cup of hot chocolate," he said to Ice's unenthusiastic expression. Since it was still early for the after church crowd, Nik pulled into a popular restaurant in town.

Assaulted by the aroma of cinnamon and bacon, Ice's physical needs trumped his sour mood. He had to admit he felt more positive after consuming a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns, and a pecan roll. With their brains fueled, Nik and Ice kicked around ideas of where Dale might have gone.

"I have a hard time believing he just skipped town," Ice said.

Nik looked up from the bill with money fanned out in his fist like playing cards. "Ice, you and Dale were best buddies for most of your life; I doubt he's changed that much in five years. Think about the guy you used to know—what would he do?"

Ice contemplated his younger days while Nik placed money on the table. He tried to remember times when he and Dale had gotten into trouble—what they did—what Dale did. Ice waited until Nik was done counting, then he said, "He'd try to make it right."

The medicine man nodded. "I thought as much."

Ice slid out of the booth. "So where does that leave us? Do we join the hunt for Nesbitt and hope we find Dale?"

"More or less," Nik said.

By this time, a crowd had gathered in the small entrance to the restaurant and Ice and Nik had to wind their way through clusters of people to get to the door.

"Ice!"

Ice swiveled his head to see who'd called his name and saw one of his neighbors with her hand raised. Ice returned the wave, intending to move on, but saw the woman advancing toward him. "Hello, Mrs. Savoie."

"I told them you had more brains than to go out on the ice," she said with an emphatic shake of her head.

Ice scrunched up his forehead. "Uh... excuse me?"

"After church, word was going around that someone was crossing the lake on a snow machine. Looked like they were headed to Star Island. Crazy!" She threw up both hands. "This late in April?"

Ice nodded. "That is pretty crazy. But why did you think it was me?"

Mrs. Savoie shook her head. "Oh honey, I didn't think it was you. I know you're smarter than that. Somebody said they thought they saw your car parked at Stony Point. Seems that's where the crazy person took off from." She shifted her purse to her other arm. "But here you are, so obviously it wasn't you. I was right all along." She sniffed.

"Yeah, I'm-"

Mrs. Savoie cut him off, her attention fixed over his shoulder. "There's Arnie," she said. "You have a nice day now." She patted his shoulder and shuffled off to intercept her husband.

Ice found Nik in the truck with the engine running. He swung the door open. "I might know where Dale is," he blurted as he clambered into the seat and slammed the door. "Star Island."

"What?" Nik exclaimed. "What makes you think that?"

"I ran into a neighbor lady in there. Sounds like my Jeep is out at Stony Point where somebody took off across the ice on a snowmobile."

Nik put the truck in gear. "If it was Dale, I wonder why he'd go to Star Island."

"I don't know." Ice swiped a hand through his hair. "He couldn't possibly know where Nesbitt is when the police haven't found him yet. Maybe he has some kind of hunch in relation to Windigo Lake." He realized his knee was jiggling up and down so he pressed his heel to the floor and took a deep breath.

Nik grunted.

Stony Point Campground was just outside town and as they approached, Ice anxiously eyeballed a dark green Jeep standing in the back of the parking area. They pulled into the lot and Nik drew up beside the vehicle. Already certain the Jeep was his, Ice jumped out.

He pulled the driver door handle, expelling his breath as the latch released. He noted the empty ignition, then hopped into the seat and opened the console, hoping Dale had left the keys behind. After rummaging through various cords, chargers, headphones, and a few CDs, Ice leaned forward and opened the glove box. His search yielded nothing.

Ice slid from the seat with a groan. When he turned to slam the door, he had another thought. Leaning down, he peered under the seat. With his face close to the floor of the vehicle, he spotted a dark stain on the mat that he otherwise would've glossed over. The carpet fibers appeared wet and Ice rubbed his finger lightly over the spot. A red smudge colored the pad of his finger. He didn't imagine Dale had taken his Jeep so he could drive through somewhere for fries. Besides, the color was wrong for ketchup—this was blood.

A more thorough examination of the driver area revealed a dark smear on the outside edge of the steering wheel, directly above the stain on the floor mat. Dale had had blood on his left hand. His gaze fell again to the floor mat and Ice frowned, noticing an odd bulge. He lifted the mat, breathing a sigh of relief as he revealed his ring of keys. He held them up to show Nik, then locked the Jeep and climbed back into the truck. "There's blood on the steering wheel and the mat. Not very much, most likely a superficial wound."

A perplexed expression knitted Nik's brow. He put the truck in gear. "Let's go in the lodge and see what we can find out," he said, driving forward to a parking spot closer to the building.

The desk clerk retrieved the manager when he got the gist of Nik's line of inquiry. The manager sized up the medicine man and then said, "A couple hours ago a boy came in asking to rent a machine." His gaze shifted to Ice and after a moment of scrutiny he continued, "He was about your age." After referencing a spiral notebook on the counter, he confirmed that the boy's name was Dale Quinn.

"Did you rent one to him?" Nik prodded.

"Sure," the man replied. "He had the money and valid ID. He asked for a map of trails. I showed him the best loops."

"Anything else?" Nik asked.

"Yeah, he rented a pair of boots but said the rest of his gear was in the car."

Ice met Nik's eyes and gave a small shake of his head. He didn't carry any warmer clothes in his car—except boots, ironically.

"He only had enough cash for an hour and a half," the manager said. He glanced at his watch. "As of now, he's over forty-five minutes late. I have a guy that runs the trails periodically to make sure no one's in trouble. He hasn't seen the kid at all. Then someone came in and said a machine was spotted on the lake." He grimaced and shook his head. "I don't know if it was this kid, but I hope not."

"Do you think it's safe to have a snowmobile on the lake?"

The man flicked an eyebrow and pressed his lips into a straight line. "It's been cold the last week or so, but we had a warmer spell early in the month." He shook his head. "Once we're into April, conditions can vary widely, day-by-day. Most fishermen have brought their shanties in by now and I wouldn't go out."

"We'd like to rent a machine," Nik said.

Ice gaped at the medicine man. "We would?"

"If Dale's out there, it's our responsibility to go after him."

"Right now?" Ice looked down at his jeans and tennis shoes.

"I've got all the gear you need," said the manager. "But if you're going after the machine that crossed to the island, I'll need a credit card. If you go through the ice, we have the right to charge your account for the loss."

Without hesitation, Nik opened his wallet and handed the man a card.
The life of an Indian is like the wings of the air.

That is why you notice the hawk knows how to get his prey.

The Indian is like that.

The hawk swoops down on its prey; so does the Indian.

In his lament he is like an animal.

For instance, the coyote is sly; so is the Indian.

The eagle is the same.

That is why the Indian is always feathered up;

he is a relative to the wings of the air.

Black Elk - Oglala Sioux Holy Man

Chapter 11

Mrs. Savoie's voice reverberated in Ice's head as he twisted the snowmobile's throttle and the machine jumped forward. "You're smarter than that." The words mocked him.

He followed the trail which ran behind the campground lodge to the lake's edge. Nik shifted on the seat behind him and Ice paused, making sure the medicine man was ready before they took off across the snow covered lake. From his vantage point, he could spot only one fishing shanty. A surge of trepidation burned in his chest—seasoned ice fishermen knew the lake conditions well.

As Ice studied the panorama, a breeze scuttled across the lake, kicking up the top layer of snow and swirling it through the air like talcum powder. He liked to snowmobile, but he didn't own a machine and certainly wasn't an expert. If there were areas where the ice was likely to be the thinnest, he wasn't aware of them. To say he was nervous about being the driver was an understatement.

The request had taken him off guard. They were in the back room of the campground lodge, donning their rented gear, when Nik asked Ice when he'd last driven a snowmobile. "About a month ago," Ice had said absently, stuffing his legs into snow pants.

Accustomed to Nik taking the lead, Ice was stunned by his mentor's response. "You'd better drive then; it's been years for me." At the time, he was flattered by the man's unhesitant statement, but when they mounted the snowmobile, the gratification had been replaced by unease.

Nik's gloved fist came into Ice's peripheral vision, the thumb pointing up. After giving the medicine man a second to replace his hand on the seat grip, Ice tweaked the gas and the machine slowly descended onto the frozen lake surface. A few yards from the shoreline, the path they were on disappeared in a mishmash of other tracks and windblown snow, so Ice blazed his own trail to Star Island.

Because of the recent fluctuating temperatures, snow on the lake surface had melted and refrozen, leaving the terrain lumpy. Ice tried to maintain a speed of forty to forty-five miles per hour, but at times had to throttle back. The jarring vibrations of the roughest areas reminded him of driving over the washboard surface of a dirt road and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from slamming together. The wind gusted stronger out on the lake and Ice felt it push against them although little made it past his clothes.

He'd been aiming at the southwestern tip of the island, but noticed a large area in his path where the frozen slush appeared banked. It may have once been a shoveled rink for ice skating or hockey, but Ice didn't like the looks of it so he adjusted his course. Avoiding the area completely, he didn't pass close enough to determine what the site was.

The ride didn't take long and Ice flexed his shoulders, feeling some of his tension ebb as they neared the shore of Star Island. Since they didn't know where Dale made landfall, Ice came in close to the southern shoreline and then cruised slowly, looking for fresh tracks leading off of the lake. The waterfront was populated with summer homes and Ice knew that under the snow, a nice strip of sandy beach lined the water's edge.

Just as Nik tapped his shoulder and pointed, Ice also spied the telltale tread marks of a snowmobile which led ashore and between two homes. Rather than follow the trail, Ice passed the spot and continued to follow the shoreline. A few houses away, he cut in. He didn't know what Dale might be thinking, or if he'd be wary of followers, so Ice thought it best to proceed with caution.

In the shelter between two houses, he stopped and flipped up the visor on his helmet. Nik did the same. "You think he's watching to see if anyone followed?"

Ice shrugged. "Who knows? I thought there might be a chance. Do you think we should walk down there on foot? See which way he headed?"

Nik looked at the nearly foot-deep snow and made a face. "Nah, let's just do a slow drive-by."

Ice nodded and pushed his visor down. The roads on the island weren't cleared in winter, but the lack of trees and foliage marked their passage clearly. Furrows beneath the most recent snow showed where other snowmobilers had passed. Today, however, only one trail was fresh. Even though Ice's instincts told him to turn right and follow the new tracks, there was a slim chance they weren't made by the machine they sought, so Ice backtracked to the left.

Four houses down, as he suspected, the path turned toward the water—it was the same track they saw as they passed by on the lake. Ice circled and was ready to accelerate back the way they'd come, when he felt Nik tap his shoulder. Twisting the throttle, he let the machine idle and reached for his visor, surprised when the medicine man dismounted.

Nik examined the snowmobile tread leading in from the lake, poking a finger into the edge of the print, measuring the depth. Then he trudged to the back of their machine and stuck his finger in that track. He looked up at Ice. "The guy at Stony Point said the other snowmobile is identical to this one." Nik's raised visor exposed his eyes and nose, but Ice could see the lines of the man's frown extending from under his helmet. "But the track is roughly the same depth as ours."

Ice at first didn't understand the older man's concern, thinking that if the machines were the same, of course their tracks would be the same, then he realized the significance of the medicine man's observation. Sure, the pattern would look identical, but the depth would vary by the amount of weight the machine carried. Dale's tracks should've been shallower than theirs. "So either it's not Dale, or he's carrying a heavy load," he concluded.

"Or someone is with him," Nik added.

Ice stared at his mentor, trying to fathom who Dale might take with him while avoiding the thought that they were following the wrong snowmobiler. Nik gazed back, his face void of expression, then swung his visor into place and climbed onto the seat behind Ice.

Ice took off at a mild pace, increasing speed gradually as they followed the fresh trail. The road traced the slight curve of the shoreline until it bent to the left at the southeast point of Star Island. As they approached the turn, a patch of color against the stark white of the snow caught Ice's eye and he advanced toward it cautiously. Before he drew up to the dark area, he could see that a wide swath of the snow-covered path had been disturbed. Feeling the medicine man shift in his seat, Ice stopped.

Nik was off the machine in seconds, padding back and forth to inspect the area. "Looks like the other snowmobile tipped on its side here. Maybe he took the corner going too fast."

Ice dismounted to join the medicine man as he examined the stained snow. Thinking of the blood he'd found in his Jeep, he hunched down for a closer look at the dark red blotch. He swallowed hard.

Nik crouched next to him. "It's too purple to be blood."

"What?" Ice's brain still insisted the spot was blood and a slight wave of nausea came over him as Nik scooped some snow into his palm and held it up to his nose.

The medicine man cocked an eyebrow. "Smells like wine."

To align reality with what his mind had conjured, Ice forced himself to lean forward and smell the dark red snow melting on Nik's gloved palm.

It smelled like wine. He groaned. "This is a goose-chase Nik. Dale wouldn't take time to somehow scrounge up a bottle of wine to bring with him."

"It's our only lead. We might as well follow it."

Ice got back on the snowmobile and waited for Nik to get situated. The couple of clues they'd come across so far lowered the possibility of finding Dale at the end of this trek. At this point, a couple sneaking off for a winter picnic seemed much more plausible.

As they continued along the east shore of the island, Ice watched for a sign indicating portage to Lake Windigo. A few years back a friend, Lucas, had invited Ice to spend the weekend at his family's summer place situated on the east side of the south shore. Ice and Lucas decided they wanted to canoe on Lake Windigo. He remembered they'd paddled around the point and up the east shore to portage to the smaller lake. Lucas told him that the southern portage was closer to the house, but a much longer walk to Lake Windigo. Paddling the canoe was far easier than carrying it.

If they were following Dale, Ice still thought Lake Windigo might be what brought him to the island. He throttled back when he guessed they may be getting close, watching for a change in the line of trees. Just as he started to ask himself how he could've missed it, an indent in the forest on his left came into view. Ice slowed, and when he saw the east portage sign he stopped.

Snowmobile tread marks ran down the narrow path leading to Lake Windigo. When Ice turned his head to the right, to see if the tracks crossed to Cass Lake, the path was covered with snow. However, the snowmobile imprint also continued in front of them. He tweaked the throttle and inched a bit closer to where the trails intersected.

Looking forward, he could now see that the route ahead was marked by two snowmobiles. He followed the lines pressed into the snow, checking the progress of their original trail. He decided the machine that turned down the east portage trail had come from the opposite direction they were now headed; their trail continued straight ahead.

Keeping one eye on the correct tracks while the other searched the way ahead made the going a little slower. Finally, as they veered slightly eastward toward O'Neil's Point, the other track broke off and headed west.

Their new bearing gave Ice an idea of why Dale might come this way and he felt a little more hopeful that they weren't wasting their time out here. The northeastern point of Star Island was once the site of an Ojibwe village. The remains of wild rice storage pits were still somewhat visible there.

Ice and Dale had heard a few stories about Great Cloud's ancestor, Ozawindib (Yellow Head), who led Henry R. Schoolcraft to the source of the Mississippi River in nearby Lake Itasca. Ozawindib lived in a village on Star Island. Great Cloud described the place as a group of wigwams surrounding a grassy spot where councils, dances, and Midewiwin ceremonies were held. Perhaps Dale hoped to engage some of the latent spirituality of the place and contact a deceased relative for advice and assistance with the Windigo curse.

Ice saw a sign for Camp Unistar, a Unitarian Universalist summer camp, and a few minutes later the road ended at the camp. As they climbed to the top of an embankment a snowmobile came into view, abandoned at the corner of a rustic wooden building. He advanced warily, noticing the machine was a twin to the one he was driving.

Trampled snow spread out in an irregular shape, nearly ten feet wide. A few footprints were visible, but most of the area was packed down, the brown spots that had been gouged into the dirt standing out starkly against the white snow.

Ice pulled his helmet off and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "What the heck happened here?"

Nik's face appeared as he too, removed his helmet. Lines marked the medicine man's forehead as he surveyed the scene.

"Look Nik, you were right," Ice said, pointing at the ground. "There are two people." He moved to where Nik stood near their snowmobile and examined the older man's footprints. Then he went back to where he'd been before. He pointed to a boot print. "This looks similar to yours." Then he gestured a little to the left. "But this almost looks like a... a barefoot footprint." He squatted to investigate further.

Nik joined Ice and bent to look over his apprentice's shoulder.

"Ah crap..." Ice muttered, an arrow of fear spreading heat through his guts. "Is it just me?" He peered up at Nik, "Or are these toes... with..." He didn't want to say it or think it.

The medicine man straightened. "With claws? Yes. Unfortunately, I see them too."

Ice grimaced. "So it must've been Dale and Nesbitt on this machine."

"That's what it looks like," Nik agreed grimly. "And they had some kind of scuffle here. What we don't know is, who won?"
If a man is to do something more than human,

he must have more than human powers.

Native American Proverb

Chapter 12

Ice pressed his back against the building and peeked around the corner. His eyes traced the snowy landscape for what must've been the dozenth time, seeing nothing new. He sighed, wishing Nik hadn't insisted they separate.

"We know Dale had at least an hour and a half lead on us," Nik had argued. "If the Windigo has him, we need to find them as quickly as possible."

"But what can we do if we're alone when we find them?"

"Nothing," Nik answered. "We're going to search for fifteen minutes and meet back here. If one of us discovers something, we go investigate together."

Ice had reluctantly agreed and Nik reminded him, "Don't forget we have a connection. You can contact me here." The medicine man pointed to his head.

"No, I can't," Ice mumbled. Nik had introduced the skill of communicating through their spiritual link at least a year and a half ago. Ice quickly mastered receiving Nik's messages, but he'd never successfully sent a mental reply.

"If the lines are open one way, they're open the other way too," Nik said, not unkindly. "If you see anything, try contacting me. Come back here and keep trying until you succeed or I show up."

So Ice had crept around the camp, following a set of tracks punched through the snow. He saw both human and Windigo prints, but it wasn't clear who was running and who was in pursuit. The trail looped back to the building where the snowmobiles were parked. Just as he was tracing his outbound footsteps and the front skis of their machine came into view, Ice heard a shout. He stopped in his tracks, sure Nik had tapped their mental connection. When nothing further came through, Ice continued quickly, but warily, around the corner of the building.

The sound had been so brief, Ice was unsure now exactly what he'd heard. Was it outside? Or was it in his head, as he first thought? As he stepped into full view of the snowmobiles, a bird screeched, nearly scaring him out of his boots. He tried to laugh, managing only a strangled grunt. Maybe that had been the source of the noise—a bird.

Warm and winded from the trudge through the snow, he sat on the seat of the snowmobile, concentrating on breathing evenly and keeping a sharp eye out for Nik.

Their meeting time came and went.

As the time stretched out to five minutes past, and then ten, the cold began to creep through his clothes. He got up and started to pace while attempting to clear his mind and reach out mentally to the medicine man. But his eyes kept darting around the area and his ears strained to hear the sound of footsteps crunching the snow. He refused to close his eyes to concentrate, as he'd be an easy target.

Retracing his path from the snowmobile to the building and back, Ice checked the time yet again. Even if he could get service, he didn't dare try Nik's phone. If his mentor was in a precarious position, the sound of his phone might give him away. Ice's gaze fell to the trail of prints the medicine man had investigated. Then he took a deep breath and set off in Nik's footsteps.

The camp covered a large area, with buildings scattered about the grounds. The path Ice followed led to the back area of the property while Nik's trail headed for the waterfront. Ice made his way around the front of the main building and saw that the tracks led downhill, toward the beach. He hesitated, scanning the clearing where, under the snow, stairs descended to the shoreline. Then he stepped away from the path, moving off to the right, where he could slip into the trees and make his way down the hill undercover.

As he neared the bottom of the slope, he heard a sound and stopped to listen, one hand on a tree to hold himself steady. The low chatter didn't sound like an animal, yet Ice couldn't make out words. He advanced as silently as possible, alert to any noise or movement.

At the base of the incline, the ground planed out before reaching the water. Near the shore was a small cabin-like structure. The building may have once been a boat house, with the evolution of the waterfront and receding lake levels rendering it landlocked. The sound was definitely coming from the structure.

Ice's heart pounded in his throat as he approached the back of the building. A moan came from within. Like a slow motion replay, he lifted a foot and set it down gingerly. Then the next foot. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the window set in the side wall. Ice edged his face past the frame and then let loose a string of profanity inside his head.

The window was boarded up.

The muttering from inside the boathouse sounded possibly human, although incoherent. Ice debated on whether or not he should go in search of a weapon before going any farther. Then, taking a deep breath, he proceeded toward the front of the building. A weapon search would likely yield nothing and only waste time.

Just short of the corner, he leaned forward and caught sight of the door standing ajar. A mumble emanated from the inside of the building—definitely a different voice than the run-on babble. Ice heard a growl followed by a dull clunk, and the new voice went quiet.

His heart thumped so loudly, Ice feared it would give him away, still he had to know what was happening inside—and who was in there. At the front of the building, and standing close to the wall, he stooped low. Whoever was in there would be more likely to spot him at eye level. As he peered into the murky interior, Ice realized the door was probably left open for light. Despite his instincts screaming at him to jerk his head back, he waited for his eyes to adjust.

The joists supporting the roof structure were covered in metal hooks screwed into the wood. Life jackets in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors hung from them. Off to the left side, a hook had been cleared to make room for a loop of nylon rope. Suspended from the rope was Dale, wrists trussed together and toes just touching the shiny, dark liquid pooled beneath him. His head hung limply to the side, eyes closed.

A figure sat on the ground amid scattered life jackets, his left side toward the door. One bare foot was visible, and even in the low light, Ice could see claws emerging from disfigured toes. As expected, he recognized the tatters of plaid that hung from the creature's emaciated, hairy torso. The consumption of human flesh was transforming Nesbitt quickly into a monster.

Ice strained to see farther into the gloom and finally spied the medicine man's crumpled form on the other side of the Windigo, among the life jackets. Nesbitt began to mutter again. He was fiddling with a length of rope and snarled with frustration. As on his feet, large claws protruded from his fingers, impeding his fine motor skills.

Ice crept backward, his mind racing. He needed to get Nesbitt away from Nik—before the medicine man was tied up. Retreating into the trees, he ran through his options. Luring Nesbitt from the building was a no-brainer—all he had to do was reveal himself. But that wasn't enough. He needed to incapacitate the Windigo.

Ice worked his way up the hill and headed for the snowmobiles. The building they'd parked next to had two large barn-like doors at one end, leading Ice to believe it was some sort of garage or storage facility. He was panting when he arrived, but didn't stop to rest. Unlatching the snowmobile's seat, Ice flipped it up in search of the rudimentary tool kit that was hopefully inside.

After a little pawing around, he produced a heavy pouch that jangled like metal tools. Jogging to the building, Ice set the pouch on the ground and opened it. The old fashioned doors were mounted symmetrically on vertical hinges. In the center, a cable was looped through the large metal handles on each door and secured with a padlock.

Ice rummaged in the pouch and produced a wire cutter. When he held it near the cable though, he groaned. The tool was made for cutting and stripping small wires, not severing a thick cable. He surveyed the situation again, clearing his initial thoughts and trying to think outside the box.

Suddenly he grinned. Reaching into the sack of tools, Ice removed a socket set, praying he'd have the right size socket. Plucking the largest of the shiny cylinders from the case, he slipped it over a bolt on the door handle and turned. It didn't catch—too big.

Ice chose the next socket. He had trouble fitting it over the bolt and thought it was too small, but then noticed flakes of rust speckling the snow at his feet. Using a flathead screwdriver, he cleaned the sides of the bolt and then slipped the socket easily onto it. Within minutes, Ice had the socket on the wrench and gave the bolt a twist, doing his best to use enough force, yet not break the bolt or the tool.

It took a few tries, but finally the bolt broke free. Ignoring the sweat that'd broken out on his forehead, Ice ratcheted the coupling until the bolt was loose enough to turn with his fingers. When the bottom of the handle was free of the door, he went to work on the top bolt. Minutes later, he let out a jubilant cry as the handle fell from the door and slid down the cable, swinging from the other door handle. Both doors moved slightly outward and Ice wrapped his fingers around the edge of the right door and pulled. Its progress was hampered by the snow, but all he needed was enough room to slip inside.

He selected the flashlight function on his phone and squeezed through the doors.
We must always fight for what we believe in.

We must never tire in our fight.

It does not really matter how we fight,

what matters is what we are fighting for.

Dino Butler, American Indian Movement

Chapter 13

Ice stole into the trees and followed his earlier path downhill. He crept close enough to the boathouse to confirm Nesbitt was still inside and then set to work. Removing the handle so he could get into the garage had taken longer than he would've liked, so he had to assume Nik was now tied up.

Ice knew he was Dale and Nik's last hope, so he'd better get this right.

The building he'd broken into was indeed a storage area, housing two riding mowers, a truck, and an aluminum rowboat. As he'd surveyed the materials available to him, a plan began to form that Ice thought was quite fitting. After all, turnabout was fair play.

He dropped a coil of rope on the ground and studied the surrounding trees. It'd been five or six years, but he'd performed this act many times while hunting with Dale and his dad, and Ice hoped it was like riding a bicycle. Although they'd never pursued human-sized prey, he figured he could apply the same principals on a grander scale.

Executing his plan proved to be time consuming and the sun was sinking low in the sky by the time he finished. Only a couple hours remained before full-dark and they needed to be back in Cass Lake before that happened. The ice was marginally safe. Crossing it in the dark would be foolish.

Still, Ice took another minute to double check his work.

Then he climbed to the top of the hill and trudged over to the trampled pathway. Slowly he descended the snowy stairs. "Nik!" he shouted. "Dale!" The snow crunched under his feet and he intentionally let his footfalls land hard, causing the wood underneath to make hollow thumps.

Almost immediately a metallic squeal emanated from the boathouse as the door was shoved open.

Ice froze for a minute as terror exploded inside his chest and spread a chill through his bloodstream. Large yellow owl's eyes gleamed manically as they spied him at the bottom of the hill. Tufts of matted hair protruded from Nesbitt's tattered shirt and his chest bore brown-red stains that Ice didn't want to contemplate.

He stood rooted in place until the creature bellowed—a long eerie howl that split the cold silence of the island.

Heart pounding, Ice darted into the stand of trees, willing the Windigo to follow him. Driven by instinct, more animal now than man, the creature lunged in pursuit. Ice increased his pace, slipping and sliding on the snowy incline. He needed to draw Nesbitt on the right course if his plan was going to work.

The creature had gained preternatural speed as part of its transition and was faster than Ice expected. Its menacing growl sent shivers down his spine. He realized with dismay that the Windigo would be on him before he made it to the spot where he'd planned to act as bait. With the sound of Nesbitt's ragged breathing right behind him, Ice scrabbled at the snow with bare hands, desperate to get away and terrified as much of failure as of the creature at his heels.

Then he heard a crash and a yelp. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, Ice saw the Windigo rising from the ground, its ghoulish eyes glowing with malice.

Ice redoubled his efforts to get up the hill. As he eyed the trees and adjusted his course, his boot caught in the undergrowth and he toppled, face first, into the snow. Pulse hammering, he rolled immediately and found the Windigo nearly at his feet. The creature lunged, sinking its claws into Ice's snow pants. He felt the sharp tips slice into his skin.

Ice yelled, jerking his leg from Nesbitt's grasp. Then, crawling sideways instead of backward, he prayed he'd made it just far enough and drew the pruning knife from his parka pocket.

Except the Windigo didn't follow Ice's intended course. Utter panic now drove Ice upward, his breath rasping irregularly. If he was going to be captured, Ice reasoned, he might as well throw caution to the wind and do whatever gave him the best chance of stopping Nesbitt. Pausing to look up, he took two steps to the left and turned around to face the creature head-on.

In an instant, the monster was right in front of him, his inhuman nails extended to tear into Ice's chest. Heart thumping wildly, Ice reached out with the pruning knife and slashed down hard on a rope extending from a tree.

Suddenly there was a loud snap and then the Windigo roared in disbelief as his feet went out from under him. He slammed to the ground only to be drawn back into the air, upside down, and remain dangling there by his feet. The creature released a howl of rage, bucking wildly and attempting to slash at his restraints with his formidable claws.

Ice lurched into motion, locating a baseball bat he'd stowed by a tree. Waiting until the Windigo lunged upward again, Ice clocked him neatly on the back of the head. Nesbitt slumped limply in the snare.

Recovering a jump rope, Ice secured the Windigo's wrists together and then hurried down the hill to the boathouse.

Nik still lay on the floor, his hands bound. Ice pressed his fingers to the medicine man's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a steady pulse. Using the pruning knife, he quickly freed Nik's hands. Then he moved to Dale, frowning as he located a much weaker pulse.

Again using the flashlight on his phone, Ice rummaged through the fishing gear until he found a minnow bucket. Tipping it upside down, he climbed up alongside Dale. He put an arm around him while he sawed at the rope looped over the hook. Ice tightened his hold as the fibers gave away, but as the last of the rope snapped, Dale's weight yanked him from Ice's arm. Ice teetered on the bucket as Dale sagged to the floor.

Leaping over Dale's body, Ice stepped out the door, took a cursory glance to make sure Nesbitt was still knocked out, and then gathered some clean snow. He applied the snow to both Nik and Dale's cheeks and forehead, willing them to regain consciousness.

Nik's eyes were first to flutter open. "Ice!" he exclaimed, struggling to sit up and glancing anxiously at the doorway. "Watch out for Nes—"

"It's okay Nik. I got him. He's tied up outside."

Nik blinked, digesting his apprentice's words.

"Help me with Dale," Ice said. "Do you know what Nesbitt did to him?" He was half afraid to ask and even more afraid to find out. When he'd pushed Dale onto his back, Ice noted the boy's blood soaked pant leg. He was also missing a shoe, but thankfully not a foot.

The medicine man shook his head. "No, I don't know. He was hanging there when the Windigo dragged me in." He'd rolled to his knees and scooted closer to Dale.

Ice retrieved some fresh snow, pressing it gently to Dale's face.

Dale turned his head away and moaned. "No," he protested weakly.

Ice drew back. "Dale. It's me, Ice. And Nik's here. We've got Nesbitt."

Dale cracked his eyes open. He took in Ice and Nik hunched over him then tried to move. All at once, horror filled his eyes and he croaked, "Oh God, my leg! Did he take my leg?"

"No man, it's here," Ice assured him "You've got both feet."

Nik leaned forward. "Do you remember what happened?"

"He took a piece of me," Dale mumbled, closing his eyes.

Ice blanched, exchanging a look with Nik. Then he stood abruptly. "There's a first aid kit in the snowmobile," he explained as he dashed out the door.

By the time they got Dale patched up—Nesbitt had whacked a piece off the back of his calf—and loaded the Windigo on a snowmobile, the sunlight slanted through the trees. Dale was coherent enough to hang on so he rode behind Nik. Ice drove the machine with Nesbitt strapped across the seat since he was better equipped to handle an awkward load. They took off, traveling just a bit faster than Ice would've liked, but they were determined to beat the sunset and get off the island.

Their visibility degraded as less and less light filtered through the evergreens. They had to stop once when Ice misjudged a curve and laid the machine on its side. Finally they broke out of the trees and emerged on the southern shore of the island.

Although dusk lingered on the open lake, the horizon already obscured the bottom of the scarlet sun. They'd be racing the sunset as they crossed the ice.

Ice had led the way across the island, but he paused to wave Nik in front of him. They could go faster here in the open and Ice thought it would be best for the medicine man to set a pace he was comfortable with.

Nik accelerated onto the lake surface, adjusted his course for the lights of Cass Lake, and then twisted the throttle. His machine jumped forward, speeding across the ice. A beat later, Ice advanced into the medicine man's tracks and followed. He glanced to his right, where the last of the day's light faded from the sky. The first pinpoints of the brightest stars were visible in the eastern sky on his left. He flicked on the headlight, hoping Nik would do the same.

Twilight painted the frozen lake surface in shades of blue and gray. Ice glanced at his speedometer. Nik must've regained his confidence on the snowmobile; he was going a little faster than Ice had on the trip over. Suddenly Ice remembered the banked snow he'd avoided on their way to the island.

He pictured Cass Lake and the proximity of Star Island to land. They'd just taken off from the southeastern shore of the island—on the way over, Ice had aimed for the southwestern tip. Would their current trajectory take them around the anomaly on the ice?

Only if the rough area was far enough out from land. As they neared the shore, the way Stony Point crooked out into the water, they'd be forced to adjust their bearings. Ice figured that would put them roughly on the same course he'd been on earlier.

He increased his speed. He'd pass Nik and lead him around the spot.

As he shifted his course from behind Nik and off to the right, he saw the headlight on the medicine man's machine blaze to life and illuminate mounds of snow. Nik saw them too, and unaware that Ice was advancing on his right side, he veered in the same direction.

Ice immediately released the gas and applied the brakes, but he was too close: he would smash into the other machine before he stopped. Instinctively, he jerked the skis to the left. His momentum catapulted him across the frozen lake directly toward a snow bank. He wrenched the handlebars harder, but still slammed into the mounded snow and was launched into the air. Had he hit the bank head-on, he might've had a chance to recover control when he landed. Instead, his diagonal orientation dropped the machine back to the ice on its side.

Ice threw his arms up and pushed with his legs, hurling himself off the seat before the snowmobile landed and smashed his limbs underneath. He dropped with a hard thud that momentarily stunned him. The machine crashed to the ice, Nesbitt pinned beneath it. Ice struggled up on his elbows, his head spinning.

Then he heard the boom.

He was familiar with the sound of ice cracking on a lake—the same sound ice cubes make when liquid runs over them, except amplified proportionately.

Ice tried to get to his feet and a terrific pain shot up his left leg. The buzz of the other snowmobile barely registered as he heard the frozen lake fracture again. Then suddenly the sound of shattering ice filled the night and he saw the machine shift as the surface beneath it crumpled.

He scrambled backward like a wounded ant, watching in wide-eyed horror as first Nesbitt, and then the snowmobile, lurched into the hole while cracks continued to spider in his direction. He yelled and thought he might have heard an answering shout, but the ice under him buckled and he slid into the frigid water.
Life is not separate from death. It only looks that way.

Blackfoot

Chapter 14

Ice shivered, his teeth chattering. He was so cold. But Mom wouldn't let him cover up. She said his fever would spike and she'd have to put him in a cool shower.

He didn't want that.

Mom had put him in the shower in the middle of the night when she came to check on him and found he was burning up.

Standing in a cool shower with a fever was awful. He'd rather go without covers than be wet and cold.

When Mom had put her arms around him and hugged him, he felt like he'd get better. And she was warm.

Now he laid his head on her back, his arms loosely around her waist.

It was harder to feel her warmth now.

He was so tired.

He just wanted to sleep.

Sleep and let the fever break.

He wasn't so cold anymore.

He drifted.
I want you to go on and build onto all that's

going on today because it makes the tomorrow.

Edna Gordon, Seneca

Chapter 15

"Ice. Come on, stay with me Ice."

That wasn't Mom's voice.

Maybe his dad had come. He'd heard his son was sick and came to make sure he'd be okay.

Ice cracked his eyelids, recoiling at the bright light.

He closed his eyes again, struggling to make sense of his situation.

Only one place could be so bright and white—he was in a hospital. Where was his mom? Did he just see Dale? Why was his best friend here?

Why did Dale look grown-up?

Suddenly he was enveloped in warmth.

His hands felt fat and on fire.

"Ice? Can you hear me?" the anxious voice inquired again. The voice became quieter and close to his ear. "It's not your time, Ice. It's not time to join the Great Spirit."

Nik.

Memories of the day began flooding his brain. He fluttered his eyes open and saw the medicine man hovering over him, his forehead creased. The panic in the older man's gaze faded to relief. "You're going to be okay," he murmured.

The fiery sensation in his hands escalated and Ice moaned. A man and a woman in scrubs approached and Nik stepped back.

"We've got to get you out of your wet clothes," the man said. He peeled back the top of the blanket and began helping Ice out of his coat, sweatshirt, and t-shirt. The woman prepared an IV.

A fresh, warm blanket was tucked around his naked torso and the male nurse worked on removing his boots, snow pants, and jeans while the woman explained she was giving him warm intravenous fluids to bring up his body temperature.

Ice looked at the medicine man. "Did you call my mom?" He grimaced as liquid fire seemed to spread through his arms and legs.

Nik nodded. "She's on her way. She's going to kill me."

Ice thought he smiled, but he couldn't really feel his face. "She's gonna kill both of us."

"Dale's right next door," the medicine man said. "They're patching up his leg."

Another heated blanket was heaped on Ice while the female nurse checked his vitals. "You may have flu-like symptoms over the next few hours, but I think you're out of the woods. A doctor will be by shortly." She smiled and hurried off.

Alone with the medicine man, Ice asked the next obvious question. "Nesbitt?"

Nik shook his head. "We couldn't retrieve him. I had to get you to the hospital."

Ice sighed.

"He was too far gone, Ice. We couldn't have saved him anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"You saw him. He was a Windigo."

"Yeah." Ice thought about how much Nesbitt had become the creature of his boyhood imagination. "He was a Windigo."

The sound of the curtain drawing back interrupted them and Ice's mom hustled in. She first barraged him with hugs and kisses, then admonished him. "What were you thinking? You know better." Her words were followed quickly by more hugs and kisses.

"I'm okay, Mom," Ice assured her, hoping he managed at least a weak smile.

"Well, I expect an explanation for this." Her gaze switched to Nik and lingered there.

Ice looked at Nik also, unsure how much the medicine man wanted him to tell his mom.

"Yes," Nik placated her. "But later. Not here and now."

Ice's mom planted another kiss on his head. "I brought you clothes." She held up a plastic bag.

"Thanks, Mom." It was good to see her. Ice felt like he'd dreamed about her or something.

Nik moved a chair near the bed and Ice's mom sank into it, asking what the doctors said. Ice and Nik were filling her in when the curtain rattled again and Dale appeared. He had a butterfly bandage above his left eyebrow and the eye under it was swollen and beginning to turn black and blue. He leaned awkwardly on crutches.

Ice's mom gaped at him. "Dale?" She eyeballed Ice and then Nik, her lips parted. "He was involved as well?"

"They saved me," Dale said.

"From wh—" She waved her hand. "Nevermind, we're discussing it later."

Dale cleared his throat. "Anyway, I wanted to see how Ice was doing." His gazed shifted from Ice to Nik and then back to Ice.

"I'm on fire, but they're putting it out." This time Ice did feel his cheeks tense and the corners of his mouth lift. "I'm gonna be fine. How's your leg?"

"It hurts like he... uh... heck." Dale glanced quickly at Ice's mom, then shuffled clumsily past the curtain, his lips pressed tight.

Ice's mom frowned and he knew she wanted to ask questions, but instead, she got up from her chair. "Sit here, Dale." Then she said to Ice, "I'm going to find a doctor. See if I can take you home tonight."

At Ice's nod, she touched his cheek and then left, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

"Do you think she knew we wanted to talk?" Nik asked.

Ice shrugged. "Maybe. She's kind of scary-good at reading people."

An unexpected chuckle came from Dale. "I remember."

"Yeah." Ice met the other boy's eyes. "I bet."

Nik pulled his chair closer to the bed. "Why and how did you end up on Star Island with Nesbitt?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Dale sighed. "I went after him—and actually caught him successfully."

Nik shook his head in wonder. "But the police have been looking for him. How did you find him so quickly?"

"Since he attacked that lady, I figured he'd still be in the woods near his house. But rather than look for him, like the cops were doing, I let him find me." Dale held up a bandaged hand. "I've heard plenty of Windigo stories. I baited him like a shark—with the scent of blood."

Ice gaped at Dale, remembering the blood on the Jeep's steering wheel and on the mat. Nik merely regarded the boy with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"I've been hunting and tracking with my dad since I was five." Dale shrugged. "I knocked him out, tied him up, and loaded him in the back of the Jeep." While relaying the story, Dale kept his gaze fixed on Ice's blankets, but now he met Ice's eyes. "Sorry I took it. It's just—when I realized what I'd done..." He exhaled heavily and returned to staring at the bed.

"You didn't know you were doing it," Ice said quietly. "You had no idea what Great Cloud's necklace was."

Dale raised his chin and met Nik's eyes. "That's what I don't understand. I admit, I was pissed at Mr. Nesbitt because my physics grade was going to ruin my GPA." His gaze shifted to Ice. "And you were right, I was jealous of Corey. And I was mad at you because you kept bugging me about all of this. But I shouldn't have been able to use the charm, right?" His eyes were on Nik, hoping for an explanation.

"I'd thought so," Nik answered gently. "But it seems your spiritual ability, regardless of its origins, tapped the open conduit. It's something the Midewiwin need to address immediately."

"Yeah, before somebody else kills someone just by being pissed at them," Dale mumbled. Before Nik or Ice could comment, he continued. "I thought if I took Nesbitt to the island, to sacred ground, maybe I could save him."

"That's why you brought the wine," Nik prompted.

"Yes. To melt his heart of ice." Dale met Ice's eyes. "Like that one story."

Ice drew in a sharp breath. He'd forgotten about that—even when they discovered the wine on the trail. In one of Great Cloud's stories, a man had been saved from the Windigo curse when he was forced to consume strong wine which melted his frozen heart. Ice looked at Nik who was studying Dale.

"If you had anything to atone for—and I don't believe you did—the fact that you tried to save him says a lot about the person you are, Dale." The medicine man's voice was firm and sincere.

A flush crept up Dale's neck and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Anyway, he overpowered me when we got to the camp, dragged me down to the boathouse and sliced a chunk off my leg." His face contorted and he paled at the memory. "I thought I was going to die there." He let his chin drop and his voice became hushed. "I figured I deserved it."

"I guess it wasn't time for either of us to join the Great Spirit," Ice said.

After a moment, Dale raised his gaze. "How did you guys find me? The Jeep?"

Ice nodded and Nik relayed the events of their pursuit. "Apparently Ice rigged some kind of snare and managed to capture Nesbitt."

Dale looked at Ice and the corners of his mouth twitched. "You remember how to set a snare?"

"Of course." Ice grinned. He pulled a hand from beneath the blankets and held up two fingers. "Two snares, because you can't predict the trail your prey will use."

Dale smiled. "I'll have to thank my dad."

Nik cocked his head to the side. "I guess that's where the police went wrong; they were on a man hunt." He looked from Dale to Ice, his face serious while his eyes sparked with amusement. "The two of you simply went hunting."
Each of us must find out for himself or herself what

their gift is, so that they can use it in their life.

Jimmy Jackson, Ojibwe

Chapter 16

Ice pulled into Dale's driveway and waved to Mrs. Quinn who had just stabbed a shovel into the flowerbed in front of the house. "Go ahead in," she called. "Side door's open."

Stepping into the Quinn kitchen unescorted was at once familiar and strange to Ice. The TV chattered from the living room and he popped his head around the corner only to find the room empty. He crossed to the hallway and proceeded to Dale's room.

Dale looked up from the suitcase he'd been stuffing clothes into. "Hey." His eyebrows rose but he looked pleased to see Ice.

"Heard you were taking off for the summer and thought I'd come to say goodbye," Ice said. "I'll probably be moved to Minneapolis by the time you're back."

A frown creased Dale's forehead for a moment and then smoothed out. "That's right, you graduated early, didn't you?"

"Yep." Ice nodded. "I start at the University of Minnesota in the fall. I registered last weekend."

"That's cool." Dale stopped packing and sank down on the bed.

Ice raised an eyebrow. "I thought so too. But now that it's happening, I'm not sure if I'm ready." He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Why had he spewed that out? He hadn't voiced his dubious feelings to anyone.

Dale studied him thoughtfully and then said, "When has school ever been a problem for you? I'm sure you'll be fine." A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Unless you're worried about the college girls."

Ice rolled his eyes. "Right. Girls. There's a subject I seem unable to comprehend."

"What did happen with Lynn?"

"You mean she didn't tell Audrey and Audrey told you?" Ice used a mocking high-pitched voice.

Dale chuckled. "Sure, but I don't put much stock in what I hear through the grapevine."

Ice sighed and dropped into Dale's desk chair. "I wasn't what she wanted me to be. I guess we just weren't each other's type."

"I thought Lynn was everyone's type." Dale snickered.

"Exactly," Ice said dryly. "So you're going to Indiana?"

"Indiana?" Dale's eyes widened. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Nik said you were staying with your uncle for the summer. I thought maybe you'd be working on the farm or something."

"Nah, wrong uncle." Dale caught Ice's gaze and held it. "I'm going to Ireland."

"Ireland?" Ice wondered why Nik hadn't mentioned that bit of information.

"Yeah, I'm staying with my dad's cousins, actually, but I'm going to study with one of his uncles."

Still stuck on the news that Dale was going to Ireland and not Indiana, Ice uttered, "Study?"

"Maybe train is a better word?" Dale's eyes lit with excitement. "I'm going to learn about my heritage. You know, my spiritual ability." Then his expression darkened. "I don't want anyone else hurt by my ignorance."

Ice chose not to comment on Dale's last statement. Over time maybe he'd come to believe he wasn't responsible for what happened. "That's awesome, man! Wow. Congratulations." Lips twisted in a crooked smile, he leaned forward and stretched out a clenched fist. "That's really cool."

Dale contemplated Ice's fist with a raised eyebrow and then his mouth curved upward. He leaned in and hesitantly completed the fist bump. "We're not exactly ten anymore, but okay." He chuckled. "Thanks, I still can't believe it." His enthusiasm had already eclipsed his pang of guilt. "I spoke to Uncle Colin on the phone—I think it's going to be good."

Ice smiled, genuinely happy for Dale. He imagined that knowing you have spiritual potential, but not developing it, must've been odd. He wondered if Dale felt incomplete. "Well, I hope you're going to post pictures online."

"Sure." Dale returned Ice's smile.

"Hey, how's Grams?"  
"Better. The doctors are amazed at her improvement. I guess once she stopped worrying about the necklace, she could concentrate on getting better. She's even talking a bit now."

"Wow. I'm really glad to hear it."

Dale dropped his gaze, fiddling with the zipper of his suitcase. "Nik's a good guy," he said quietly. "He actually made it sound like this whole situation actually did the Midewiwin some kind of favor." He shook his head.

"Well, it's true we discovered some things we didn't know before—knowledge is valuable," Ice replied. "Even though the medicine man society had already been rounding up ceremonial artifacts, no one realized a connection to the spirit world might be universal across cultures."

"Or that an undeveloped ability could tap into power unknowingly," Dale added in a bland tone.

Ice nodded. "Which is even more important. The hunt for items that have retained their link to the spirit world is priority now. We don't want any other innocent people to become a victim of circumstances." He stressed the last three words, hoping Dale got the message.

Dale's cheeks tensed as he clenched his jaw, then he sighed. "I know. I've already talked to my uncle about artifacts. He knows the whole story."

"I'm glad you have someone who can teach you now. You're going to learn all kinds of new, cool stuff. I'm actually a little jealous." Ice laughed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his back pocket. "Nik," he said to Dale before speaking into the phone. "Hey Nik, what's up?" He listened for a moment and then said, "Sure, no problem. I'll call if I have any questions." He ended the call and stood.

Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, Ice said, "The hunt is on. I'm off to pick up some artifacts." He offered an open hand to Dale. "Good luck, man."

Dale rose and shook Ice's hand firmly. "Thanks." Before releasing him, he fixed Ice with a serious gaze. "For everything."

Ice nodded once and then smiled. In the doorway he turned and pointed at Dale. "I'll be online. I expect to see some updates."

Dale chuckled. "Yeah, yeah."

Ice climbed into his Jeep and headed for the highway. As he drove out of the neighborhood, he marveled that the tulips and daffodils were already fading. The long, hard winter had made spring feel so brief; he had a hard time reconciling himself to the idea that it was June already.

Nik had asked Ice to go to Hoglund's, the combination gas station and convenience store outside Itasca State Park. As the search for artifacts got underway, Ice remembered the glass case of Native American items he'd seen when he and Corey had gone to find Nesbitt. The medicine man called the owner, and Roffe had already set something aside for Nik. Ice was to pick it up and call Nik if he saw anything else he thought might have spiritual potential.

About a half hour later, Ice rolled into the gravel lot of Hoglund's Gas and Goods. A car with Wisconsin plates was parked at the pumps and a boy not much older than Ice inserted a gas nozzle into the fuel filler. Ice pulled up in front of the store.

Inside, a girl with her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail surveyed the beverage coolers at the back of the store. Ice introduced himself to Roffe, and then bent to look in the case. He eyeballed the items inside carefully, evaluating their purpose. His gaze traveled over a small group of stone animals. Turtles were a common figure, as the creation myth revolved around it, and it was fairly easy to fashion a turtle from stone.

The cat was unusual. There were cougars and bobcats in the area, though rarely seen. Ice squatted down to get a closer look at the statue. Faded paint drawn in arced lines covered the body and the cat had double ears. Suddenly, Ice realized what he was looking at. The statue depicted Mishebeshu—the underwater lynx. He should've recognized it immediately, but had seldom seen the creature rendered in stone.

The crescent lines were scales, and those weren't double ears; the taller, thinner peaks were horns. Ice's heartbeat picked up as he thought about stories of the underwater monster.

Unlike the Windigo, Mishebeshu was not born of man, but was a spirit, ever-present in Native American mythology. He was the embodiment of the uneasy feeling that something, a menacing force, lies in wait.

The Ojibwe's fear of the spirit was so profound, the name Mishebeshu was traditionally never spoken once the ice had melted on the lakes and river. The monster was indiscriminate in its choice of victims and unpredictable, striking when least expected—like suddenly rough water on a lake, or treacherous rapids and whirlpools. He would dump boats and canoes and draw swimmers to their deaths.

A few stories even claimed Mishebeshu would hide under the ice, cracking it beneath unsuspecting victims. That thought ran a shiver down Ice's spine, the memory of his plunge into the icy lake still fresh in his mind.

Ice had never known the underwater monster to be of consequence in his lifetime, but he didn't want any of the myths he knew to become present day reality. He turned away and drew his phone from his pocket, attempting to make a call before he realized he had no service.

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. He stepped up to the counter where Roffe sat next to the cash register. "Do you have a land line I could borrow?"

"Ah-yup. Use the back room." The rotund man nodded to a door marked "Employees Only."

Ice thanked him and hurried to make the call. He left the door open and as he described the statue to Nik, he saw the blonde girl approach the register and set two drinks on the counter. She wandered over near the glass case and fingered some of the beaded bracelets hanging from a rack, then she stepped out of his field of vision.

"Buy the Mishebeshu statue, Ice," Nik said.

"Okay. See you later." Ice checked to see how much money he had in his wallet, hoping it was enough. Then he emerged from the back room as the girl picked up a brown paper bag. "...even though we're going to the park tomorrow."

"The headwaters are beautiful no matter how many times you've see them. Have a good day," Roffe told her.

"Thanks." She pushed the door open, ringing the bells which hung from the overhead hinge.

The dance stick Roffe had set aside was already on the counter. "I need something from the case, too." Ice dropped to a crouch as Mr. Hoglund stepped behind the case. "I'd like the..." He frowned, scanning the group of statues again. "Where's the... it looks like a cat," he finally managed to spit out.

"Oh, too bad, eh? The girl just bought it," Roffe said.

Ice gaped at the man with wide eyes. "That girl?" He gestured to the door in disbelief.

"Ah-yup."

Ice bolted. "I'll be right back," he said as he burst through the door.

The girl was on her way to the car parked at the pumps.

Ice hurried after her.

He knew nothing about her, but the Midewiwin made it clear they were leaving nothing to chance. Not after what happened with Dale. Mishebeshu was a dangerous force—probably the most dangerous. He had to get that statue.

Ice drew up behind her but she didn't turn, so he just blurted. "I'll double what you just paid for that statue."

THUNDERSTONE

Legacy in Legend Book One, AVAILABLE NOW

Humankind has not woven the web of life.  
We are but one thread within it.

Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.

All things are bound together.

All things connect.

Chief Seattle, Suquamish

Chapter 1

Jeni was halfway back to the car when she heard the voice behind her.

"I'll double what you just paid for that statue."

She knew the offer was directed at her. She hadn't seen any other customers inside the convenience store where she'd just purchased a stone statue. And her cousin was the only one at the gas pumps. Still, she kept walking. Even quickened her pace a bit.

The scrape and crunch of gravel on her left warned of the guy's approach before she saw him from the corner of her eye.

"Excuse me. Uh... sorry to bother you, but the statue you just bought? I'd like to buy it. It's important," he babbled while shuffling alongside her. "Look, I'll give you forty bucks." The guy thrust his hand forward with two twenty-dollar bills sticking out.

Jeni's 'stranger danger' reflex kicked her heartbeat up a notch. She glanced sideways, surprised to see a young guy, seventeen or eighteen at most, with copper skin, black hair, and startling blue eyes. Her lips parted and her breath hitched involuntarily. Wow, the guy was super-cute.

Her feet slowed, though her pulse continued to race as a new nervous energy replaced her initial alarm. Maybe she should hear him out.

"Buzz off, buddy. Whatever you want to buy, she's not selling." Her cousin Tyler suddenly appeared in front of her, and Jeni stopped short to avoid running into him.

The guy raised his hands and held them out past his shoulders, the money still clenched in one fist. He gave Jeni a pleading look but took a step backward.

"Tyler, I... he just..."

Tyler grabbed Jeni's arm and propelled her toward the car. She shook off his hold on her. "What's your problem?"

"I saw him offering you money. Just get in and lock the door," he said. "I'll drive."

"Overreact much?" she muttered. Going back to talk to the guy now would be embarrassingly awkward, so Jeni got in the car. She was more than happy to let Tyler drive—it was better than him scrutinizing her newly-acquired driving skills—but he was acting like a jerk.

Not that that was new.

With the door closed, Jeni glanced in the side mirror and saw the guy hadn't moved. Dang. The well-worn jeans, athletic build, and sun-kissed skin added up to rugged hotness—the best kind of hotness in Jeni's opinion. Only his downcast expression was at odds with his outdoorsy brawn. A pang of sympathy struck her as he shook his head and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Tyler dropped into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "Um, maybe you should consider jeans that aren't quite so tight," he said. He started the car and pulled away from the pumps.

"What're you talk..." Jeni hissed out a disgusted sigh as she got his meaning. "You're such an idiot." She dug in the paper bag she'd set on the floor between her feet. After plunking two drinks into the cupholders, she drew out a small stone statue. "He wanted to buy this."

"How would I know that? A stranger waving money at a girl in a parking lot looks pretty suspicious to me. Besides, you went in to buy drinks."

"Puh-leeze, he was probably younger than you."

Tyler shrugged. "What is that anyway? A stone cat?"

"Well, it's not an ordinary cat, that's why I bought it." Jeni held the figure out. "Look, it has horns. And check this out, doesn't it look like it's painted with scales?"

Tyler glanced at the statue and grunted.

"The man at the store called it an artifact; maybe it's valuable. That guy offered me forty dollars and I only paid twelve," Jeni said.

"Try eBay. And I get a cut since I chased the dude off."

Jeni didn't dignify that with an answer. She might be twenty-eight dollars richer right now if Tyler hadn't chased the guy off. The cute guy. Tyler turned up the radio, and Jeni let her head fall back on the headrest. Trees and marsh flashed by on either side of the two-lane blacktop road. An occasional break in the foliage revealed dirt roads cutting through the woods, some which bore signs indicating residences beyond the dense vegetation. Jeni hardly noticed; she'd seen similar scenery back in Michigan—not where she lived in suburban Detroit, but a few hours north where her family went camping.

Something about the incident at the gas station didn't add up. She was pretty sure now that was the same guy she saw on the phone in the back room of the convenience store. At the time, she assumed he worked there. But if so, why would he rush out and try to buy the statue she just bought? It didn't make any sense.

Jeni could still picture his crestfallen face. He'd looked like a kid who had just dropped his science project and watched it explode into a million pieces.

She fingered the statue's cool, stone surface for a few moments, then slipped the figure into her pocket. The encounter definitely put a damper on her enthusiasm for the newest item in her cat collection. When she got back to civilization, she'd definitely Google 'cat with horns and scales' to see if anything came up.

As Tyler turned into Itasca State Park, Jeni thought about the beaded bracelet she'd returned to the rack after she spied the statue. She suddenly had the sinking feeling she would've been better off choosing the bracelet for a souvenir...

...to read more:

THUNDERSTONE is available in paperback and e-Book editions. Learn more at www.barbarapietron.com

Hello Reader!

I hope you enjoyed Heart of Ice as much as I enjoyed writing it. I always wanted to write a story that included a Windigo and after Thunderstone was published I realized that Ice was the perfect rival for this cannibalistic monster.

If you have a minute, would you please leave a review for **Heart of Ice** on your social media accounts or blog? Reviews do more than help customers make a good choice, they also increase the likelihood that retailers will recommend the book to other readers.

I would greatly appreciate it!

Happy Reading,

Barb

Available At  
www.barbarapietron.com

The Legacy in Legend Series

About the Author

After years in the corporate world, Barbara found herself with a second chance to decide what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her lifetime love of books and the written word returned one answer: writer. Drawing from her experience with technical writing, she began by writing non-fiction magazine pieces and achieved both regional and national publication before moving to her true passion, fiction.

In addition to Heart of Ice and Thunderstone, Barbara also wrote the novel, Soulshifter, and a Thunderstone sequel is coming soon. If she's not reading or writing, she likes to walk, garden, and sew. She works in a library and lives in Royal Oak, Michigan with her husband, daughter, and their cat—who often acts like a dog. Find out more about Barbara and her books at: www.barbarapietron.com. Connect with Barbara on Facebook at facebook.com/barbara.pietron.19 and on Instagram at instagram.com/barbarapietron_author.

