White Flame by Susan Edwards

scraping down his cheeks. This time, his punishing blows didn’t stop her. She fought until a final blow of fist ramming into her jaw sent her skidding across the golden grass. She lay there, defeated, her heart shattered, her head pounding from the blows and ears ringing with her sister’s cries, which grew fainter and fainter. Tears ran down her cheeks, and screams of despair tore from her throat. She’d failed her father. She’d promised to care for her sister, but her impatience to reach the fort had cost Renny her sweet, young life. Emma sank into a dark world where there was no pain or fear.

Chapter Four
    A large fire lit up the night sky. Yellow Dog’s renegade warriors danced and celebrated around the flames, sending grotesque shadows weaving across the prairie. As the night deepened and thick, slate-gray clouds drifted across the sky, concealing the moon, they passed around a flask of whiskey taken from a slain soldier. The flask emptied and one by one, the band collapsed near the fire or stumbled to tipis where their women waited. Eventually, only two remained huddled by the dying fire.
    Nearby, cloaked by the darkness, Striking Thunder’s band of Sioux warriors watched and waited. With no revealing light from Old Woman Moon, the crouched figures blended with their surroundings, their hushed voices harmonized with the cadence of insects chirping into the night. At the sound of a slightly louder series of chirps and clicks, Striking Thunder crept forward, a long knife gripped in his right hand. He paused, waited for the second signal. When it came, he replied softly. Seconds later, Two-Ree joined him.
    “What have you found?” Striking Thunder asked, sliding his knife back into the sheath strapped to his thigh.
    Two-Ree stuck his knife into the hard prairie earth. “Our enemy celebrates the killing of the white soldiers. They dance and drink the white man’s firewater.” His features twisted into lines of contempt. “They are drunk and do not know we are here. I say we attack and take our revenge. The warriors of Striking Thunder will return to our people victorious.”
    Adrenaline surged through Striking Thunder. “What of the woman?”
    Two-Ree spat on the ground. “The woman is in the tipi of Yellow Dog. There is no sign of the girl-child.”
    Striking Thunder frowned. He knew from the tracks they’d followed that Yellow Dog had traded his weary horses for fresh ones. He suspected the child had been used as barter. “We will kill our enemy tonight.”
    He led the way back to where the rest of the band waited silently. Using hand signals, he positioned his men around his enemy, then settled down to wait for the night to lengthen. Staring into the darkness, he thought of the captured white woman he’d glimpsed earlier before the sun had fully disappeared over the horizon.
    He’d known from Black Cloud’s reactions when she’d circled the sky earlier that the enemy was close. His people had a special affinity with the animals who roamed the earth and sky. By watching and learning from them, special powers and knowledge were obtained.
    In order to keep from being spotted by his enemy, he’d crawled slowly on his belly to survey Yellow Dog’s camp and there, had witnessed the warrior’s treatment of the woman. She’d kicked and fought Yellow Dog as he’d dragged her to his tipi. She had courage, wasn’t afraid of her enemy; for that, she’d earned his respect. And if the spirits were willing, he’d free her before Yellow Dog did her harm.
    Striking Thunder had never desired to take a white woman to his tipi as his father had done with his mother; the illustrious White Wind had once been known as Sarah Cartier. But today, after looking upon this woman’s flame-red hair and pale skin, he’d briefly considered taking her from Yellow Dog to keep for himself. The beauty he saw beneath her blistered and bruised flesh made her a tempting prize worthy of a great warrior, and the spirit he’d