resist the truth.”
Kionee nodded as if in acceptance of that advice, but suspected the woman had lied to her for the first time. She forgave Regim because she saw the affection behind that tiny deceit.
Many days’ ride beyond the Hanueva winter camp, Stalking Wolf came upon a sight that partly explained why Crow warriors were raiding in areas where theyshould not be. He considered visiting the Hanueva to give them a warning but decided against any delay in returning home. Bad weather had held him captive at the sacred mountain wheel two days longer than he wanted and needed to stay after receiving his strange vision. In twenty suns, he would ride into his camp and report the bad news and his suspicions.
Images of the white-clad Kionee with a colorful facial mask and a silver wolf at the hunter’s side flickered through his mind, and he asked the Great Spirit to protect his new friend. I do not know how or when, Kionee, but our paths will cross again, for I have seen it in my sacred vision. We have faced battle and death together and now we are bonded in a mystical way. When I reach camp, I must ask the shaman to tell me the meaning of my vision. If this is the season for me to take a mate, why does no woman of our tribe touch my heart and flame my body? What is the “powerful destiny” Medicine Eyes sent me to seek? Have I displeased the Great Spirit and He did not reveal it to me? I must have answers soon.
“You make a new bow, Kionee. Is it for the hunt or a coming battle?”
“I will use it as Atah guides me, Little Weasel.”
The man eyed the symbols on the discarded piece of chokecherry, their colors indicating the deeds for which they were earned. Again, she had chosen chokecherry for her new weapon, the best wood to use but the hardest to find in the right length. He had watched her figure the needed size by measuring the distance between the tips of her fingers on an outstretched hand across her body to the opposite hipbone. He noticed the skill she evinced in attaching the leather grip that was edged with snowy fur. He observed as she stood and braced one end with her calf and ankle and pulled the other toward her chest to slip the boiled and dried sinew intoa notch and lock it in place to test the sinew’s tension. Nearby lay a wrist band for protecting her arm against string slap, a beaded carrying bag with a quiver attached, and two extra sinews for replacing a broken or weakened one. “You have many marks, old and new, to paint on it. Will the sun rise when your deeds are more than it can hold?” he questioned.
Kionee glanced up at her cousin and noticed his frown, one that matched his bitter tone. As usual, she ignored them both with hopes they would cease one day. “Only Atah sees into suns not lived. He has given me many good deeds, and I am thankful. It has been fourteen moons since our men left to visit the Crow. Do you think they will return soon with good news?”
“If they return,” Little Weasel responded to her obvious change of subject, “I believe they will be slain or held captive. Night Walker agrees.”
“You are angry Chief Bear’s Head and the council did not send you and Night Walker,” she said.
“Crow hearts are as black as this night will be without a moon. We should scout and trap them, not cower in fear and beg for peace. The arrows you make would serve us better if shot into Bird hearts, for a dead man cannot raid and kill and cannot plant seeds in his mate for new enemies. We would have more people if tivas are allowed to have mates. Kionee could become a mother. Night Walker would take you as his woman.”
“That is not our way, Little Weasel, and it is wrong to speak of it.”
“Perhaps it is time for changes in our customs if we are to survive.”
Kionee watched her cousin stalk away from her position at the edge of the forest. Her horses, Recu and Tuka, shook their heads, silent signs, it seemed, that they understood his words and fiercely disagreed.
Kionee nodded as if in acceptance of that advice, but suspected the woman had lied to her for the first time. She forgave Regim because she saw the affection behind that tiny deceit.
Many days’ ride beyond the Hanueva winter camp, Stalking Wolf came upon a sight that partly explained why Crow warriors were raiding in areas where theyshould not be. He considered visiting the Hanueva to give them a warning but decided against any delay in returning home. Bad weather had held him captive at the sacred mountain wheel two days longer than he wanted and needed to stay after receiving his strange vision. In twenty suns, he would ride into his camp and report the bad news and his suspicions.
Images of the white-clad Kionee with a colorful facial mask and a silver wolf at the hunter’s side flickered through his mind, and he asked the Great Spirit to protect his new friend. I do not know how or when, Kionee, but our paths will cross again, for I have seen it in my sacred vision. We have faced battle and death together and now we are bonded in a mystical way. When I reach camp, I must ask the shaman to tell me the meaning of my vision. If this is the season for me to take a mate, why does no woman of our tribe touch my heart and flame my body? What is the “powerful destiny” Medicine Eyes sent me to seek? Have I displeased the Great Spirit and He did not reveal it to me? I must have answers soon.
“You make a new bow, Kionee. Is it for the hunt or a coming battle?”
“I will use it as Atah guides me, Little Weasel.”
The man eyed the symbols on the discarded piece of chokecherry, their colors indicating the deeds for which they were earned. Again, she had chosen chokecherry for her new weapon, the best wood to use but the hardest to find in the right length. He had watched her figure the needed size by measuring the distance between the tips of her fingers on an outstretched hand across her body to the opposite hipbone. He noticed the skill she evinced in attaching the leather grip that was edged with snowy fur. He observed as she stood and braced one end with her calf and ankle and pulled the other toward her chest to slip the boiled and dried sinew intoa notch and lock it in place to test the sinew’s tension. Nearby lay a wrist band for protecting her arm against string slap, a beaded carrying bag with a quiver attached, and two extra sinews for replacing a broken or weakened one. “You have many marks, old and new, to paint on it. Will the sun rise when your deeds are more than it can hold?” he questioned.
Kionee glanced up at her cousin and noticed his frown, one that matched his bitter tone. As usual, she ignored them both with hopes they would cease one day. “Only Atah sees into suns not lived. He has given me many good deeds, and I am thankful. It has been fourteen moons since our men left to visit the Crow. Do you think they will return soon with good news?”
“If they return,” Little Weasel responded to her obvious change of subject, “I believe they will be slain or held captive. Night Walker agrees.”
“You are angry Chief Bear’s Head and the council did not send you and Night Walker,” she said.
“Crow hearts are as black as this night will be without a moon. We should scout and trap them, not cower in fear and beg for peace. The arrows you make would serve us better if shot into Bird hearts, for a dead man cannot raid and kill and cannot plant seeds in his mate for new enemies. We would have more people if tivas are allowed to have mates. Kionee could become a mother. Night Walker would take you as his woman.”
“That is not our way, Little Weasel, and it is wrong to speak of it.”
“Perhaps it is time for changes in our customs if we are to survive.”
Kionee watched her cousin stalk away from her position at the edge of the forest. Her horses, Recu and Tuka, shook their heads, silent signs, it seemed, that they understood his words and fiercely disagreed.
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