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criticize her First Men features—a nose too small, a face too round, a greedy mouth, for surely a mouth that wide would talk and eat more than its share. But he saw the remembrance of her smiles, her dark eyes spilling out her joy, her stories filled with wisdom, her laughter with mischief.
    She deserved better than Night Man.
    Ligige’ stirred the hearth coals with a stick and pulled on her parka. In her old age she often seemed cold, and so had taken to sleeping in leggings and a long-sleeved caribou shirt.
    Her dreams had been so vivid, they had awakened her. She shivered, unable to forget the scream that had pierced her sleep. It was a man’s scream, she was sure, a warrior’s cry. Why would she dream such a thing?
    Then suddenly her heart was beating too quickly. Had the Near River men decided to make another attack? Didn’t they realize there was nothing left for them in this poor village?
    She heard voices, then the barking of dogs, so she put on her summer boots and went outside. The hearth fire in Day Woman’s lodge was burning, and then the fire in Star’s lodge also began to glow. Sok ran past her, and Ligige’ called to him.
    “What has happened?”
    “Our mother,” he cried. “Bring your medicines.”
    Ligige’ hurried back into her lodge and grabbed the marten skin that held her plant medicines. By the time she crawled through her entrance tunnel, most of the people in the village had gathered around Day Woman’s lodge. Ligige’ pushed her way through.
    Inside, Sok and Chakliux knelt beside their mother. Star was there also, for once quiet, her eyes large and dark, childlike, as she looked up at Ligige’.
    “Someone has killed her,” Star whispered.
    “No,” Sok said. He had lifted Day Woman’s head and shoulders to his lap, cradled her like a child. “She is not dead.”
    Ligige’ passed a hand over Day Woman’s mouth, felt a gentle stir of air. She pressed the tips of her fingers to the pulse point at the side of Day Woman’s neck.
    “She is alive,” she said. “What happened?”
    There were medicines she could give if some spirit had tried to stop Day Woman’s heart, and teas to strengthen the body, to fight whatever evil had gotten hold of her.
    Chakliux gently drew away the blanket, and Ligige’ gasped as she saw the blood.
    “A knife, I would guess,” Chakliux said.
    There were many slashes along the woman’s arms, even on her hands.
    “She was stabbed in the belly several times,” said Chakliux. “Look at her hands. She fought. Her left arm was partially bound when I found her. She must have tried to stop the bleeding herself. I came to tell her where I was going today. I thought I would find her awake, but instead I found this.”
    He lifted his head to gesture toward Day Woman’s sleeping mats. “She must have been attacked when she was asleep. Her bed is full of blood.”
    “It was not long ago or she would be dead,” Ligige’ said, then handed a packet of fresh bedstraw plants to Star. “Warm these in a cilt’ogho of water. Leave the plants whole. Do not boil them.”
    Star took the bedstraw, but only stared at it. In exasperation, Ligige’ grabbed the plants from her, flipped aside the inner doorflap. The old woman Twisted Stalk was on her hands and knees in the entrance tunnel. “Here,” Ligige’ said, handing her the plants. “Warm these in water. Do it now.”
    She felt the gentle pressure of Chakliux’s hand on her arm and knew he was telling her to be calm.
    How could she be calm when her medicines were not enough to save Day Woman, and what good were her prayers? She had done little in her life to earn the power she needed to prevail against such terrible injuries. She was like a child, and the knowledge of her helplessness made her angry.
    Ligige’ looked up at Chakliux, her tears so heavy they were like stones resting against her eyes. “I cannot save her,” she told him. But she went back into the lodge, tried to stop what little blood was