by Sharon Sala
He took her face in his hands, kissing her long and hard until he felt her skin warming beneath the palms of his hands and didn’t stop until he heard her moan.
Her eyelids were closed, her mouth slightly parted as he reluctantly pulled back.
“We need to go now,” he said softly.
Tyhen slowly opened her eyes.
“We will do this again?”
He ran a finger along the underside of her bottom lip.
“We will do this again,” he promised.
She picked up her backpack and settled it into a comfortable position.
Once again Adam’s voice was in her head.
The storm will be bad.
And again, Evan added information.
But it will not stay long on the ground.
Thank you, my brothers. Then walk faster. It will take far longer for you to get there than it did for me to fly.
Chapter Fifteen
It took longer to reach the campsite than it did for the Cherokee women to set up camp. It was an eye-opening experience for the New Ones to realize that task was considered women’s work. Yuma could tell by the look on Lola’s face that Aaron wasn’t going to get off so easy, and neither would he.
It was also something of a shock to the Cherokee warriors seeing the men doing most of the heavy work in the New Ones camps. Yuma smiled and nudged Tyhen when he saw the warriors nervously eyeing their own women, who were taking in the differences in their lifestyles.
“Already the changes are being noted,” he said.
Tyhen stared at the size of the lodge poles the women were dragging, and the skill with which they set them up before unrolling the skins that made up the outer shell of the tipis they called lodges.
“And none too soon,” she muttered. “Look at how small some of those women are and yet they are expected to set up those up alone?”
“I see women helping each other, but I do not see men helping with this in any way,” Yuma said.
“Then you can show them,” Tyhen said.
Yuma laughed.
A shiver of longing moved through her, making her ache to be with him. She waited for the day when she could live life for herself—with Yuma—and with their child.
Then a cold gust of wind slapped her in the face, reminding her of why they were here and what needed to be done, and she returned to the task of unpacking.
And then Chief Small Foot walked up, saw the condition of the small tents they were unpacking, and called them together.
He was not a large man, but his demeanor was regal. The force of his voice accentuated his words as he pointed at the tents they were beginning to erect.
“These are too thin. They are too small. The snow will make them fall on you. You will die from the cold.”
“It is all we have,” Yuma said.
“Then you will share our lodges until you are able to make one of your own. Wait here. People will come for you.”
The New Ones looked at each other and then shrugged as the Chief walked away. A short time later more than a half dozen warriors came to them and led them through the campgrounds, depositing a New One here and two New Ones there, until all who’d come were bedded down inside lodges.
Tyhen and Yuma were in a lodge with a woman called Willow. Her husband had died at the Gathering while waiting for the New Ones to come. Willow was as grateful for the company as she was having a warrior at her fire. Yuma would become the hunter, the one who provided, and she would no longer be one of the lonely women who looked to the charity of others for the food she would eat.
Willow nervously received the Dove into her lodge but did not know how to talk to her until she realized Tyhen was suffering from the cold. At that point she spread a buffalo robe near the cooking fire in the center, then laid another stick onto the fire.
“You sit. Be warm,” Willow said.
Tyhen sat, grateful to be off her feet and near the fire. The conical shape of a tipi was a perfect shelter—protection from the wind and cold—large enough inside for a small cooking fire and a small opening in the top for the smoke to go through. Both the silence and the warmth overcame her as she lay down and curled up. She felt Yuma’s touch as a cover was pulled over her shoulders and the last thing she heard was Yuma telling Willow he was going to get more wood.
***
Because Adam and Evan looked alike, it was assumed they would stay together, but with room for only two in the next lodge, it was about to cause a problem.
Adam felt Evan’s immediate confusion and quickly spoke.
“She goes with him,” Adam said, resisting the urge to even touch Suwanee’s shoulder as he pointed her out. Touching her would have tuned him into everything she was feeling. It was difficult enough to accept she would never belong to him without experiencing how she felt about his brother.
He moved on with the others without looking back, relieving them of the need to feel guilty, but Evan felt it just the same. Their separation was inevitable, yet he couldn’t help feeling he’d betrayed him.
Suwanee did not know how to relate what she was feeling. Although Evan seemed satisfied, she could tell he was bothered, and when she slipped her hand into his, she heard his thoughts. It was something she’d always been able to do once she touched anyone, but she never spoke of it. Now she was wondering if she should keep it a secret from Evan, too.
He glanced at her.
“I think you are like Adam and like me. Whether you tell me or not, I will always know,” he said softly.
She saw the truth in his dark eyes. And so it would be.
Wolf Cries, the warrior who took them into his lodge, pointed at his wife.
“I am Wolf Cries. She is Red Wing,” he said.
“I am called Evan. This is my woman. Her name is Suwanee.”
Suwanee’s pulse kicked. He called her his woman. She glanced up, caught him watching her and realized he felt what she was feeling. The desire to be naked with him was great, but there was no place for them to be alone.
Evan wanted to be with Suwanee. He wanted to experience in the flesh that which he had experienced in spirit. He wanted to be inside her when his body took flight. But they were not alone and he knew they were not entirely welcome here. He could hear their thoughts and knew they were uneasy about sleeping among strangers.
In the long run, it was Suwanee’s gentle nature and quick smile that warmed Red Wing’s heart, and in doing so also eased their fears. When Wolf Cries announced he was going into the forest to hunt, Evan went with him.
They left dressed for the cold and carrying their spears. The walk through the campground was short, and once inside the trees, everything seemed to come alive. They could hear a high-pitched whistle as the wind moved across the long grass, and when it reached the forested area and began moving through the needled branches of the pines, its voice turned into whispers and moans, warning of the impending storm.
They were not the only ones on the hunt and what game might have been close had already been scared away. It was a while before they found a deer trail, and once Evan saw the tracks and tuned in, he was able to lead the way to a small herd of deer.
Wolf Cries was impressed with the light-skinned warrior’s hunting and tracking skills and was rethinking his reluctance to welcome them into his lodge. He tapped Evan on the shoulder then pointed, indicating his target. Evan nodded, then pointed to the deer he intended to take.
They were downwind from the herd and sure-footed, moving silently through the trees until they were close enough. They stepped out of cover at the same time, took aim and threw.
Evan’s aim was sure and deadly. The deer stumbled a few yards and dropped.
Wolf Cries spear found its mark, but he had to chase his deer several hundred yards before its heart finally stopped and then it fell.
Evan dropped to o
ne knee, wasting no time as he quickly field dressed his kill, then he threw the deer carcass over his shoulder and went to find his hunting partner.
Wolf Cries was struggling to bleed and gut the deer, wishing he’d brought the knife made of bone when Evan tapped him on the shoulder.
“I share this with you,” Evan said, and handed over his knife. “It is very sharp. You must be careful of that blade.”
Wolf Cries was elated, and at the same time in awe of how easily it cut through skin and flesh. In no time he had bled and gutted his kill, wrapped up the heart and liver and put them in his hunting pouch. He cleaned the blade and then reluctantly handed the knife back to Evan.
“It is good,” he said gruffly.
Evan nodded, slipped the knife back through his belt and shouldered his kill.
They were on the way back when Wolf Cries curiosity got the best of him.
“How do you know our language?” he asked.
Evan thought of all the hours Singing Bird had spent teaching them when they were younger, and how all of the New Ones in Naaki Chava had learned each other’s words and how to say them.
“We know many languages,” he said. “It was part of our preparation before we came to you.”
Wolf Cries heard, but his curiosity was not yet satisfied.
“You are not as we are,” he said, pointing to Evan’s paler skin.
“No. My brother and I had no family and so we were raised with your people.”
Wolf Cries understood that concept. They often raised children from other tribes, sometimes stealing them to give to their women who had either lost a child or were barren. He started to comment and then remembered being told that the old ways had to change. No warring with other tribes. No stealing their women or children. The new way was strange.
Evan also took advantage of Wolf Cries’s distraction to check him out. The warrior was of average height with dark skin and a gray wolf’s tail hanging from his belt. He had heard Wolf Cries’s earlier thoughts and knew the man was envious of the knife and a little embarrassed that his kill had not been as clean as Evan’s.
When they arrived back into the encampment, Wolf Cries began looking for certain lodges until he found one he was looking for and called out.
An old woman emerged smiling, obviously pleased to see the hunters. Wolf Cries pulled out the heart he’d cut from the deer and gave it to her.
As she took the meat wrapped in leaves and disappeared into her lodge, Evan realized the woman had no man.
“One more,” Wolf Cries said, and began a second search through the camp until he saw a lodge with the image of three deer painted on the hides.
Again he called out, and yet another old woman emerged, received the liver he gave her with great ceremony, and ducked back into her lodge out of the cold.
“They have no hunters in their lodges?” Evan asked.
“The first woman is Red Wing’s mother. Her father died on the walk to the Gathering. This woman is my mother. She has been alone for two winters.”
Evan’s general opinion of Wolf Cries was growing. Not only had he been willing to take two strangers into his lodge, but he was also taking care of two more women. It was something for the New Ones to remember as they assimilated themselves into this tribe. These people might be less that civilized in appearance, but their culture already knew about taking care of others.
While Evan was returning to Wolf Cries’s lodge with fresh meat, Adam was sitting by the fire of Dull Knife and Cloud Woman, painfully aware of their opinion of him. He carried no weapons and there was little food in his pack for them to share. While it shamed him to ask, he sent a panicked message to Evan.
You are hunting?
Yes, with good luck. We took two deer.
I have nothing to give these people.
I will gladly share, brother. Tell them I am in camp and I bring food. They won’t care where it comes from.
Again, Adam was made painfully aware of how useless he was in this place.
I thank you.
Evan seemed angry at his brother’s defeated behavior.
You are my brother. You are not useless and you are as needed as I am, but for different reasons.
Adam looked up at the warrior and his woman who were staring at him from across the small fire burning in the center of the lodge.
“My brother brings fresh meat. He will be here soon to share with you.”
The scowl on Dull Knife’s face lifted.
Cloud Woman grabbed a leather water pouch and ran out to fill it from the creek nearby.
Adam linked into the warrior’s thoughts and began to relax. The man wasn’t angry. He was trying to hide his fear of the tall man with the pale skin.
Adam leaned forward and spoke Cherokee in a soft, rhythmic tone.
“I have no weapons, but I can help. I will bring in more firewood.”
Dull Knife frowned.
“Woman’s work,” he muttered.
Adam shook his head.
“Not anymore,” he said shortly, and stood, well aware that by stature alone he was looming over the man.
Dull Knife blinked.
Adam ducked down and left him sitting.
Things were already changing for both of them, whether they liked it or not.
***
Lola, Aaron, and Dakotah were in the lodge belonging to Rabbit Runs. He was old and withered, a small man with long white flyaway hair. He might have been able to run like a rabbit once upon a time, but now he walked with a limp. And because he had no woman in his tipi, there was no cooking fire burning inside it.
Dakotah looked around at the few things hanging from the lodge poles and then sat down near where Lola was busy building a fire. He wasn’t afraid of the old man, but his clothing was torn and stained and he seemed to not know what was happening. He heard Lola whispering to Aaron in the English language. He heard her say the word, senile, but he didn’t know what it meant.
Rabbit Runs seemed excited about the possibility of a fire and began pushing the small pile of twigs and leaves toward where Lola was sitting.
Aaron hesitated to leave Lola alone with the old man, but they were going to need wood and food.
“Dakotah, come with me. You will bring wood to this lodge. I go to hunt food.”
Lola nodded and then smiled at the boy, who looked a bit concerned about leaving her behind.
“I will be fine,” she said.
Dakotah wasn’t so sure, but the sooner he came back with the firewood the better.
And so the evening went. The New Ones were settling in, and the Cherokee adjusting to the strangers in their midst.
It was still daylight and the smoke of many fires was rising above the treetops when the first flakes of snow began to fall. Within in an hour, it was a white-out.
***
The smoke holes in the Cherokee lodges were pulled shut to keep out the snow. Small fires inside were fed slowly throughout the night while the glowing embers lit the cone-shaped interiors with a faint smoky glow.
The snow was blowing sideways out on the prairie, but the campsite was sheltered within the forest and protected from the brunt of the storm’s fury.
Tyhen couldn’t sleep. The force of the wind outside was stirring senses she didn’t know she possessed. When she closed her eyes it felt as if she was part of the storm, flying like an arrow through the cold and frozen with no destination in sight. The thunder of her heartbeat drowned out the wind’s piercing shriek. Instead of being afraid, it was familiar, like being at home.
***
Yuma woke between one breath and another, sensing something was wrong. He lay without moving, listening to Willow’s soft snores and the howl of the wind. He could feel the weight of Tyhen’s breast against the back of his hand and the steady thump of her heartbeat beneath his
palm.
It wasn’t until he focused on the dimly lit interior and saw the spinning smoke above their heads that he knew something was happening with Tyhen. Either she was dreaming or—
He gasped.
Without moving a muscle, he knew they were floating. The buffalo robe that had covered them was now on the floor beneath them. He didn’t know what was happening but he had to stop her now before she accidentally tore down the old woman’s lodge.
Tyhen! No!
Tyhen jerked as Yuma’s voice broke the vision.
They dropped back onto the buffalo robe with a faint thump.
Willow snorted in her sleep and then rolled over.
Tyhen’s heart was pounding as she rolled over into Yuma’s arms and felt the warmth of his breath upon her face.
“What happened?” she whispered.
He lowered his voice to a husky whisper.
“You tell me. We were floating.”
“I was in the wind,” she said.
He frowned. “What do you mean… were you dreaming?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what?”
“I felt… it seemed to… I don’t know how to explain. It has never happened to me before.”
Yuma was getting worried.
“What never happened before?”
He felt her shiver and then the warmth of her breath as she whispered near his ear.
“I was in it.”
He frowned.
“In what, Tyhen?”
“The wind… the storm… I was part of the storm. The wind is in me. I am the wind. I cannot explain.”
The hair crawled on the back of Yuma’s neck. They had never considered her not being in control of the power she’d been given. What could this mean? Was she losing the human part of herself? Was she becoming what her father had been, taking human form only when it mattered?
He tightened his hold, his voice a reflection of his fear.
“You belong to me. Do you hear me? You belong to me.”
She slid her arms around his neck.
“I am afraid,” she whispered.
Horror enveloped him. “No, no, no! You are not the wind. You control it, but it is not you! Do you hear me! Do you understand?”
