“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Waiting for you,” he said.
We walked across the open area in the center of camp where the fire still danced in the night casting strange shadows into the darkness beyond.
We stepped into a larger tent, open on three sides, filled with people and three long tables placed together making a U shape. The smell of smoke and meat filled the air. Carrots, potatoes, corn, peppers, eggs, and oranges were set out on the tables and people were seated or standing, a low hum of talking filling the vacant space between us.
“You sit here,” he said and pointed to a bear skin on the floor in front of a low table. I glanced around and my stomach ached, whether it was from nerves or from hunger it didn’t matter. I knelt down, but he kept walking and sat next to the three elders who were at the table in front. I scanned the crowd again and wondered what this meeting would bring.
I glanced at Three Scars and our eyes met. He looked away and I looked down.
“Some meat?” a voice next to me said. I turned to see Running Bear sitting down, sliding a small tray of meat and fruit toward me. I swallowed my fear and held my breath. His scent was earthy and strong, his bare arms inching closer to me with the tray of food. Small scars dotted his arms, and his hands were large in comparison to the slabs of meat now in front of me. I glanced at Three Scars and his jaw clenched. “Thanks,” I said. As much as I wanted to distance myself from him, I didn’t know where to go, nor did I want to offend their kindness to me. He leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t worry about all the formality. You’re accepted here.” His breath pushed against my neck. I swallowed and sensed danger so close every ounce of me wanted to run. I glanced back to Three Scars and his seat was empty. “I don’t feel well,” I said.
The tent fell silent, and the attention I least wanted zeroed in on me.
A large hand wrapped around my arm and I looked up. “Come with me,” Three Scars said, and lifted me to my feet, swift but gentle. Sudden relief coursed through me, and he kept his hand on my arm as we walked to his seat. Their stares turned from me, to Three Scars, and then to Running Bear.
I wouldn’t look back at him. I sensed an epic battle between brothers brewing, and for some reason I was the catalyst that might set that fight in motion. Perhaps it was always like this between them. Maybe the younger always fought against the older brother. Regardless, it put me in a very precarious situation and all I wanted was to go home. Alive.
“Please sit,” he said and motioned toward his place at the table. I sat on the ground leaving space for him to be closer to the elders and me on the other side. He sat down, and though there was ample room, he stayed close to me, his arm touching mine. Maybe it was a signal to his brother to stay away, stop harassing the guest. Or maybe it was Three Scars’ way of protecting me long enough to get me out of here. Either way, I felt more comfortable with this seating arrangement, even though I did not feel at ease with Three Scars at all.
He passed a tray of meats and eggs and fruit to me and then took a tray for himself. His portion was more meat than anything else, so I put some sliced fruit from my plate onto his. He looked at me. “It’s healthy,” I said. He glanced at those seated around the room, maybe 40 people in all, and for some reason this gesture seemed loaded with meaning I didn’t understand. They watched and then looked at each other. I waited for him to start eating before I did. The meat was smoked venison, tender and sweet. I ate every bite, and then I ate the boiled eggs dipped in some kind of vinegar sauce, followed by the sweet fruit. A sensational array of flavors and textures and I was completely satisfied. “This was so good. Thank you,” I whispered to Three Scars. He seemed pleased and nodded. I noticed his plate was empty, but the fruit was still there.
“You don’t like oranges?” I whispered.
“When you place food on a plate among the Tore it is a sign of betrothal. I don’t think eating the fruit and accepting your gesture is what you would like,” he said, his voice low.
My cheeks burned.
He looked at me, amusement in his eyes. “Everyone is waiting to see if I eat it.” He nodded to the other people. “If I refuse, it is an insult to you, and another warrior can step in to see if he is offered something, or to offer you something.” We both glanced at Running Bear.
“What are you going to do?” I whispered and scanned the room of warriors.
“What would you like me to do?”
“Well, you promised to protect me last night, and now I just proposed with an orange, so you figure it out. I don’t know all your rules and customs. Isn’t there a way to get out of this?” I whispered, my cheeks getting hotter, my like for oranges fading quickly.
“There is only one way,” he said, trying not to smile. I leaned in closer to hear. “I must accept your gesture, and spare you from all these warriors.”
“What?” I started to panic. What did this mean? I stared at the slice of orange, and then at Three Scars. “Next time I’ll ask before I give you something to eat.”
He ate the fruit.
“And next time you won’t need to ask because the Tore will think you are my wife.”
I felt lightheaded. Just yesterday I was fine. Trekking through the woods to bring them a letter from Birch. Today I’m betrothed to a Tore Warrior. Nothing made sense, and this Tore tradition was no tradition of mine.
“Wait,” I whispered and leaned in closer to him. “Last night I put honey on the tray and shared with everyone. Was I proposing last night to the whole group of warriors, too? How is this different?”
He laughed. For the first time, he looked less stern, less focused, more… human.
“Don’t worry, Little Foot. We will keep this between us. For now, they will stay away from you, I will keep my promise, and you can decide your own future. You are not bound to me.”
I sighed, relieved. “But does this make you bound to me?” I asked.
His laughter faded and the focus and resolved expression replaced the momentary carefree face he wore. “I am bound to you to keep you safe. Any harm intended for you must first pass through me.” He glanced at Running Bear with a fierceness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.
Chapter 3
“A law enforcement vehicle drove up the road some distance from my cabin, sirens blaring. I just returned from checking my trapline beyond my property and over a loud speaker on his truck the deputy kept repeating for anyone in the area to evacuate. I’d never seen the Sheriff up that high on the mountain before. Other vehicles followed behind him. I went closer to the road, being careful so they didn’t see me, and I heard them say something about a contamination area. All I know is they were forcing the very few of us left to leave. That’s when Birch showed up. He forced through the barricades and drove right across my meadow to the front porch. He seemed so worried, not like I’ve ever seen him before. He said it was important I take something to the Tore Nation, a weeks’ walk away. He told me not to worry, but to cross White River and keep going. He was sure I’d find it, or that you’d find me. He said he’d send for me once everything was cleared up. So, I headed north to find you and deliver the letter. That’s all I really know,” I shrugged and let out a breath I’d been holding in. I scanned the room and sat back down next to Three Scars, but the whole assembly watched me, maybe trying to absorb everything I said, and how it might affect them.
A long silence followed until the elder who sat at in the center cleared his throat. “Do you know what kind of contamination they claimed was there, or from where it comes?”
“No, I don’t. The only thing out of the ordinary lately was the presence of large logging trucks. But logging isn’t allowed in the national monument, so I thought it suspicious.”
“Where were they logging?”
“About a mile from my cabin, at about 7,000 feet. I think somewhere near the trailhead leading over the mountain toward Frog Meadow.”
The elder looked across the tent deliberately at one, then two, then three
separate warriors. He nodded and they stood and left the assembly.
“Thank you, for your help. You have gone to great lengths to help our people and we extend our hand in friendship with you. In the letter you are called Cree, but our warriors call you Little Foot. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Call me what you like,” I said, mirroring Three Scar’s words to me.
“You will be one of us so long as you stay with us. Welcome.” The elder nodded his head in approval.
He turned his attention to Three Scars. “My son, is her protection something you continue to accept?”
Three Scars nodded.
“And what does she call you?” he asked further.
“Three Scars”, he said looking straight ahead, and making eye contact with no one. The assembly murmured amongst themselves, some covering their mouths, others staring in disbelief.
“Oh, I see,” the elder said, and nodded, looking from me to his son. My cheeks felt hot again, and it seemed I had a propensity for not knowing or understanding their culture or the significance of small acts of kindnesses or nicknames.
The elders adjourned the gathering and Three Scars stood to his feet. It seemed he carried the weight of the Tore Nation on his shoulders, and now the weight of my protection, too. I followed him as we left the meeting tent. We walked in silence back to his tipi. His hair draped to the middle of his back, it shimmered between the darkest shade of blue to black as night with no moon. Taller than me by over a foot, his long strides increased the distance between us, and I quickened my pace to keep up.
“I’ll start the fire,” I offered once we went inside. He struck a match and touched it to a lamp wick and the small space lit up, glowed. I busied myself with the twigs and branches and took note we’d have enough wood for only a few hours. I lit the kindling and set the twigs on fire, glancing up to see him watching me.
“Did the other men leave to go see about the contamination?” I asked.
He dipped his head slightly.
I rifled through my pack and pulled out some dried apple slices, put once slice in a mug and asked for a second mug. He handed it to me, poured water inside and I placed the grate over the flames. Apple tea was always nice. I put another slice of apple in the second mug and sat down by the fire.
“Why did people act that way when they heard I call you Three Scars?”
He shook his head slightly. “Names mean something to us. Three Scars means I will suffer three times for you.”
“What? No! I just noticed the scars on your neck, and didn’t know your real name, so I just… No, you won’t suffer three times for me. Besides, I won’t be here much longer. I’ll stay out of the way, and not cause any problems. I’m fairly adept at caring for myself, and honestly, I don’t need any protection. I’m not weak.” I stood up and leveled my eyes at him.
He held up a hand to stop me. “You are safe in your circle of the forest. You know your ways, your needs, your dangers. But it is different here. The dangers are… well, they’re very different from what you know.”
I shook my head. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long time now. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“And you don’t know what the Tore are capable of, or what dangers lie in this forest.”
“I’ve heard the legends. I know they say your people are fierce, lethal, and silent. But your elder just assured me I was safe here.”
“It’s not us you need to fear right now.”
“Then who?”
He turned away, refusing to answer my question. I walked around the fire, and stood in front of him, closer than I felt was right, but near enough he couldn’t avoid me. “Please, just explain at least something to me. I left my home on the spur of the moment, everything I’m familiar with, and now I’m here and I know nothing. Well, I do know one thing – I turned things upside down for you.” I took a breath. “I need…” He put a hand on each of my shoulders, and stepped back once, putting distance between us. “I am here to protect you from dangers within and from dangers beyond our camp. That is all I can say.” His voice teetered from wavering to resolute.
My shoulders slumped, and I looked down. I would leave here tomorrow. He couldn’t suffer for me. After all, he didn’t even know me. I lifted my head and smiled slightly. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m going to have tea and get some rest. That’s all I need.” My gaze wandered off, and I imagined tomorrow night I would have camp set up somewhere far away.
“Look at me,” he said. I glanced up. “It is an honor for Tore warriors to suffer, even momentarily, for those entrusted to us. Birch sent you here. He expected us to cover you. In time, you will know why,” his voice had a melodic tone. “So, you will not leave. You will stay. You will learn our ways, and maybe even discover the answers to your many questions.”
“I never said I would leave.”
“Your body language said it for you. Do not dishonor me, by leaving,” his voice was stern. “After all, to my people we are betrothed.” A slight smile touched the corners of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes slightly and moved his hands from my shoulders.
I sat down and sipped the tea, thinking about what happened at the meeting. Their warriors were checking on the possible contamination in my part of the forest and I hoped they’d look in on my cabin, too, but more important questions needed answers. There was a reason Birch sent me here, but what was it? He was so afraid, panicked almost and there was no time to tell me anything before I left. It all happened so fast.
I handed him the other cup of tea and he lifted it to his mouth. “It’s good,” he said.
“Glad you like it.” I ran my finger around the rim of the cup. He would give me no answers, so I planned to find the answers myself. For now, I would stay here. Stay out of the way and stay silent. I saw him appraising me through the flames, through the steam floating from his mug. I had much to think about.
“Thank you for keeping me here, for sharing your space with me. I know it can’t be easy or very comfortable for you.” I walked over to the pile of bear skins and started to remove half of them. I lifted the heavy pile and placed them next to the existing pile. He deserved to have something of a bed himself and there was no room for them anywhere else.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he said.
“And you didn’t need to speak up for me.”
I lay down on the bed of fur and considered taking off my boots to be more comfortable but decided against it. Better to be ready just in case. Somewhere between the swirl of spiced apple tea, cedar firewood wafting up and away, and a vaguely familiar scent I couldn’t quite place, I relaxed and leaned deeper into the pile of bear skins. So much had happened, and yet somehow, I knew it was only the beginning.
He blew out the light and I sensed him crawl onto the pile of skins adjacent to me. I lay there, thoughts bouncing through my head, the dark was a quiet place I could think and not be watched. I rolled over to see his silhouette, his eyes open, staring up at the small circle of stars at the top of the tipi. I wondered how I’d ever get home, wondered where Birch was, and wondered why Three Scars wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Yes, the dark was a safe place to think and to wonder, and to feel a little pang of homesickness. I blinked my eyes and brushed the back of my hand against a single tear.
I drifted somewhere between dreams and sleep never fully succumbing to either until a slight scraping near the tipi flap pulled me from rest and my eyes flicked open. Cool air pressed against my face and I glanced at the dark fire ring, the coals white with ash. The fire died out and the temperature dropped inside the tent. I glanced over as he slipped through the rounded opening, the outline of his tall form revealed he was fully dressed, moccasins laced up, and a bag in his hand.
I lay awake for several long moments, but he didn’t return, and nothing stirred outside. I rolled off the bed, pulled my cape over me, found my hat, and pulled it over my head, tugging it down to cover my ears. We needed firewood and I didn’t know if he would r
eturn soon or not. Reaching inside my bag for a flashlight I gripped it tight and slipped outside and walked to the side of the tipi. Situated near the edge of the trees I hoped finding some kindling and a few branches would be quick. I pointed the light outward, doing a sweep of the area, looking for any reflective eyes staring back at me. Nothing. I swept the light once more, lower this time, out of habit looking for smaller animals like fox or rabbit. No threat to me but I’d try to catch or kill one regardless of the time of day. The meat was good, and the pelts were more than useful. There were no signs of any danger, and no twigs snapped near me to signal a threatening presence.
The dark of night carried a measure of peace, and the river nearby licked over rocks coursing its way through the land. I gathered the wood, loading my arms as full as possible without making much noise. A few more small twigs, and pinecones, and I secured enough wood for a few more hours of heat. Tomorrow I planned on stocking a large pile by the opening of the tipi for easy access.
Once the fire lit, I glanced at the near empty water jug and considered going to the river to fill it. The temperature outside was in the low 30s but if I worked quickly, I could come back inside and warm up with no lasting effects. I grabbed my bow and the water container and went back outside. My hands may get wet and cold getting water from the river, but cold was temporary as long as I hurried. I glanced back as the tipi flap closed and the small fire in the rock ring steadily grew, heating the tipi by degrees.
I walked toward the river, shining the light ahead of me, sweeping the area around me often, and watching for rocks or trip hazards. I walked on and realized the sound of the river was deceiving and that its proximity to the tent was further than I planned.
I reached the river’s edge and located a smooth, shallow area, and sat my bow down. This needed to be fast. I dunked the container, open end up, and tilted it slightly to fill. My hands submersed in the icy current for only a few minutes and as I pulled the jug from the rushing water they tingled, and my fingertips were numb. I worried I might not be able to handle my bow if needed. The lid to the water container floated downstream somewhere, slipping away without me feeling it, and I hurried to grab my bow and flashlight, and keep a firm grip on the water jug.
My Name Is Cree Page 3
