by Vella Munn
"Panther? I've got to find some gumbo-limbo bark or medicine vine to pull the poison out of you. It won't take long; I promise."
He opened his eyes. She was afraid he'd repeat his order that she leave, and she'd be forced to argue with him, but he didn't. "Thank you," he whispered, "for saving my life."
She hadn't yet done what she'd come here to accomplish. Unless—no!—until she had, there was nothing to thank her for. Holding her emotions tight within her, she reached for the water bladder she wore slung over her shoulder and helped him drink. Although he didn't say anything, his raging eyes told her how much he hated this weakness. She still shook from the aftereffects of having killed the alligator but struggled to keep all reaction from him. Although she'd told him she had to leave him to search for the necessary herbs, she wasted precious time telling him what had happened after Gaitor and Sara reached the clan. He nodded; his eyes remained clear enough that she believed he understood everything she said.
"Why did you do it?" The question burst from her before she could stop herself. "Gaitor said Sara was free and that you should have run. Instead, you attacked Croon."
"I tried. I failed."
He'd saved Sara's life. Wasn't that enough? "Why, Panther?" she insisted. "There were army men all around. Surely you knew they'd try to stop you. You risked your life. Why?"
"I wanted him dead."
She already knew that. She nearly told him so, but before the words could burst from her, she forced herself to remain silent. Panther had a thousand reasons for hating Reddin Croon. He, and others like him, had turned the Egret clan into fugitives barely able to keep their children fed. That was enough of a reason, wasn't it?
Maybe not.
"I saw Sara's back. You looked at it and remembered what happened to your father, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Is that why? You couldn't save your father, but you could avenge what had been done to her?"
"No."
She was exhausting him when he needed to conserve his strength for the long walk ahead of them. No. His response echoed inside her, made it impossible to let go of her need for the truth. "What are you saying?"
His blink was so slow that she was afraid he wouldn't open his eyes again, but when she could again look into the midnight depths, she saw that he was still fully conscious. "I wanted him dead so he could never touch you again."
* * *
It seemed to take forever to find what she needed. She knew it would have been easier if she'd been able to concentrate on her task, but her thoughts remained back with Panther. He hated being weak. Without his saying anything, she knew that bothered him more than the pain. Remembering how helpless she'd been as Reddin Croon's slave, she understood what he was having to deal with. She also knew that nothing she said or did would make it easier for him.
A tastanagee was supposed to be strong. He'd spent his entire life with strength flowing through his veins. And now he couldn't stand, had to rely on a woman's help to do something as simple as swallow. If there'd been a way she could have given him a drink without touching or looking at him, he might not have to dwell on it, but she couldn't change that any more than she could silence his last words to her.
He'd thrown wisdom and maybe his life aside because he'd wanted to end Croon's threat, had been consumed by vengeance.
Reddin Croon had owned her. She should be the one filled with rage.
Unless...
Terrified that Panther had died while she was gone, she slipped toward him but didn't speak until she saw him stretch out his leg.
Fighting back tears, she lowered herself to her knees beside him. When he opened his eyes, she showed him that she'd filled her skirt with peeling bark and soft vine. Needing to say something, she told him that she first had to crush the bark in water before she could apply it to his wound. He nodded, then watched through lowered lids while she worked. Feeling grit on her hands, she wished she had time to bathe. She started to run her fingers through her hair to see if it was tangled, then forced herself to stop. Panther was hurt; he needed to rejoin his clan. Surely he didn't care whether she had leaves and twigs in her hair.
***
They spent what was left of the day doing very little. At his prompting, she cut a straight branch and then sharpened one end so she would have another weapon. She broke off a limb to use as a crutch tomorrow. Although she wanted to move Panther farther from the creek, she didn't want to deplete what little strength remained in him. She got him to eat the persimmon and after a short search, found some tubers, which she scraped clean and fed to him. He insisted she take her share of the food, and because she'd gone all day without anything except a piece of fruit, she did as he said.
She couldn't count the number of times he fell asleep, and she told herself it was because he knew the wisdom of resting so he could grow strong again. She changed the wound dressing frequently, not because it needed it, but because she wanted to see if the bark and vines were having any effect. As it was getting dark, he told her that the wound no longer felt hot.
She slept beside him. Again and again she stirred herself to listen for alligators, panthers, or soldiers. Whenever she sat up, she felt his body tense and knew he was listening to the night with her. Twice she heard the scraping slither of alligators and yelled and pounded the crutch against the ground until they left. After the second time, Panther's arm was waiting for her when she lay back down. Not speaking, he drew her against his good side. She needed to rest if they were going to travel tomorrow, but Panther's touch and warmth stirred something deep inside her and kept her awake—so awake. Whatever that something was hummed and throbbed until she thought she might scream, until she wasn't sure she could keep her hands off him.
She tried to think of other things, but only the rhythm of his breathing and his flesh separated from her by a single layer of cloth mattered. The night sang and moved around them.
* * *
Panther was in awe of Calida's strength. Holding her last night, he'd been aware of how small she was, but her size was deceptive. He'd railed against his helplessness, not because he was a tastanagee with a clan to lead, but because he wanted to be strong for her.
Only, she didn't need that from him.
Using the thick branch she'd given him to lean against, he'd managed to walk without help most of the time. His side felt as if tiny, sharp teeth were chewing on him, but he took himself away from that by watching her walk.
Instead of going back the way Calida had come, they took off at an angle designed to take them toward where the Egret clan was fleeing. He'd hoped the vegetation would become less lush and they'd be able to travel faster, but the dense brush and trees seemed endless. Still, a part of him didn't mind.
They traveled at a slow pace all day. Except to talk about where Reddin Croon's troops might be and whether any of the former slaves were or would ever be on their way to Oklahoma, they said little. He searched his mind for words to break the long silences, but in truth, he needed all of his strength simply to keep moving. If someone asked him which of them was the leader in this journey, he wouldn't be able to say. They seemed to be working in unison, frequently judging his endurance and altering their pace as conditions warranted. As afternoon sagged into evening, he was forced to admit to himself that he was barely capable of walking, let alone deciding where his steps would take him. Although she said nothing, he had no doubt that Calida knew. It wasn't quite dark when she pointed toward a small hammock. They would, she told him, spend the night there. Slumping to the ground, he rested his head against a tree trunk and almost immediately fell asleep. He didn't wake until he smelled roasting fish.
Calida's face was expressionless as she explained that she'd first whittled a slim spear out of a branch and then waited beside a quiet pool of water until a large fish swam so close that she was able to spear it. She'd used the flint she carried in her pocket to start a small fire. "I have never seen a woman fish," he admitted. "I have never thought of it a
s something a woman would do."
"And I never thought I'd be living in Piahokee, Panther."
"If you could, would you walk away from it?"
"I don't know. I'm free. Whatever it takes, at least I'm free. I can't think beyond that."
The fish tasted delicious. He swore he could feel it seeping throughout his system and returning a measure of strength to his spent muscles. He nearly told her that, but never in his life had he admitted weakness to anyone. The sun had set by the time they finished eating. Calida redressed his wound then told him she wanted to look for berries or roots to eat in the morning. If she could fish, he thought, he could help her with what he'd always believed was women's work. However, before he could make the decision to stand, sleep claimed him. He didn't wake until morning sun touched his eyelids. She lay beside him, hair tangling about her face, a long-fingered hand trailing over his side. If he'd killed Croon, she might spend the rest of her life looking as peaceful as she did at this moment—as lovely.
The second day was a repeat of the first. He'd hoped that a night's rest would restore him, but if anything, he was weaker than he'd been before. He tried to hide his condition from Calida, but from the way she studied him, he guessed she knew the truth. She talked more than she had before, her voice low and easy. She frequently fell silent as they listened for sounds that might warn of danger. In between those silences, she told him that she used to walk along the beach near St. Augustine and had collected a large number of the seemingly endless seashells. Once she'd seen a play with her mistress. Going to a play, she insisted with a delighted laugh, was like entering a new world.
He listened not so much to the words, but to the warmth in her voice. Because she asked, he told her a little about what it had been like to know from birth that he'd been chosen to lead his people in times of war, but he didn't want to talk about that. Piahokee surrounded them. They were trapped in it and yet he didn't want to be anywhere else and believed she felt the same way. The voices of a thousand birds, insects, and animals hummed around them. Despite the heat, they seldom saw the sun because the trees formed an almost unbroken ceiling. He wondered if she felt as small and insignificant as he did with dense vegetation clogging the world in all directions. He was tastanagee. He shouldn't feel this way, should deny the emotion. But it was the truth and he would only be lying to himself if he said different.
The sea was still several days' journey ahead, but they were nearing a treeless area where, before the strangers forced them from it, Seminoles had once planted corn and other crops. All members of the Egret clan would stop briefly at this sacred place on their way to their final destination. He believed they'd reached it in time to meet up with some if not all of the clan.
When they were within a fifteen-minute walk of the home of his ancestors, Panther stopped. He leaned against his staff until his heart no longer felt as if it wanted to escape his chest and listened again to the wilderness. He'd been right; in the distance he could hear the faint murmur of voices, Seminole voices. Calida stood only a few feet away listening to the same sounds. Her long, dark hair was tangled and a few small leaves clung to it. Her legs had been scratched in several places. She'd have to make herself a new dress. Her back was straight, her eyes clear.
"Calida."
A shiver so slight that he might have imagined it slid through her.
"I owe you my life," he said. "Twice now you have stood between me and death."
"You've done the same for me."
He didn't see it that way. He wanted to tell her how deep his debt to her ran, but he was a warrior who had already said all he could. Barely aware of what he was doing, he held out his hand, and she came toward him. She placed her hand in his, and he let his staff fall to the ground. She was a wild bird, frightened and yet incapable of moving. Trembling, lips slightly parted, small and brave, a warrior in her own right.
Maybe she wasn't afraid of him after all.
Maybe she felt something far different.
"Our time alone is almost over," he said.
"Yes."
He wanted to ask her if she was sorry that they were rejoining the others but couldn't think how to form the words. One of them had stepped closer to the other; maybe they were both responsible.
The birds and insects and animals fell silent; either that or he couldn't concentrate on them. He no longer felt the heat and was unaware of his wounded side. It had been just the two of them for so long that he couldn't remember anything or anyone else. And now—now that was ending.
But not yet.
Not until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.
Feeling strong and weak and full of raw wanting, he lowered his head toward her. She stood on her toes, gripped his shoulders, drew herself even closer to him.
Her lips were moist. Soft. Giving.
Chapter 21
Calida looked out from the shadows at the small group of Seminoles. There were only twelve, including Winter Rain and Sara. She didn't see Gaitor, which bothered her. She prayed the others had gone on ahead or would soon join those who'd reached what had once been undisputed Seminole land.
Beside her, Panther too watched. She felt not the day's heat, but his. He'd held her and kissed her. No, that wasn't the truth. Her arms had enveloped him at the same time he'd reached for her. She'd welcomed, maybe even initiated what they'd done. She had no explanation for it, didn't want it. Hadn't she spent two days carefully keeping her physical if not emotional distance from the tastanagee?
She'd been weak. A moment of weakness, that's all it had been.
She knew that was a lie.
"We made it," she said with a heartfelt sigh. "And they are here, at least some are."
"I would be dead without you, Calida."
He had to stop saying that. Panther was like the wind, ceaseless and ageless. Reddin Croon's bullets were incapable of killing him. They had to be!
A small voice that said she was trying to make Panther into something he couldn't possibly be demanded to be heard, but she shoved it aside. Panther was alive, and that was all that mattered. Because she didn't trust herself to look at him again, she stepped to one side and waited for him to lead the way. He wouldn't want his people to see him leaning on her any more than she did. The depth of his weakness would remain unspoken between the two of them, just as so much of what she felt and needed remained trapped inside her.
"Panther! Panther!"
Winter Rain ran toward them, her long hair a wild cloud around her small face. Calida was afraid Winter Rain would hurt Panther, but when the younger woman's gaze fell on the walking stick and then his bandage, she stopped. Crying a little, she stared up at him. Panther waited until the others had joined her before explaining. Calida wanted to hide from the scrutiny that came her way. Most of all she was aware of how Winter Rain's attention flicked from Panther to Calida, and then back to Panther again.
"You risked your life for him?" Winter Rain asked when Panther told them about the alligator. "You did that for him?"
A heavy sense of finality accompanied the question. Calida wanted to tell her that it hadn't been like that at all, that Winter Rain shouldn't believe a bond had been forged between her and Panther when she wasn't worthy of such a thing, but now wasn't the time or place.
"You did not see Gaitor?" Winter Rain asked.
"No," Panther whispered.
"He went looking for you," Sara cut in. "I begged him to stay, but—"
"When did he leave?"
Although her explanation was garbled, by the time Sara finished, Calida knew Gaitor had been consumed by concern for Panther. She didn't have to look at Panther to know he was worried about his friend; they both were. As skilled a tracker as Gaitor was, he should have found them. In fact, she was surprised Gaitor hadn't overtaken her.
Panther turned in a slow circle, his eyes fixed on his surroundings. He seemed to have forgotten where he was, that he was still wounded, that Calida stood beside him. Catching Winte
r Rain's concerned look, she struggled to keep her own fears for Gaitor under control.
"Someone has to go after him," Winter Rain insisted. "He—I did not want him to go. I pleaded with him, but he would not listen."
"The risk is too great." Panther's voice was low and intense. "No one will search for him."
"No one?" Winter Rain grabbed Panther's arm. "What if he is hurt? He—I should have gone with him. I should—but I was afraid."
"Panther speaks the truth," Calida said, although she hated every word she was forced to say. She sensed Panther's deep frustration at not being able to go in search of his friend. "The army is close; we need to put more distance between ourselves and them. Gaitor could be anywhere."
Winter Rain sobbed and went on staring up at Panther. "I know," she whispered. "I am sorry. I should not have said..."
Her voice trailed off, and in the silence that followed, Calida listened to the labored sound of Panther's breathing and hated his weakness as much as he did. Finally, Sara said she still had some of the herbs the healer had given her for her back and wanted Panther to use them. Calida thought he might argue that they needed immediately to be on the move again. When he didn't, she wasn't sure whether it was because he was too tired to go on or was hoping to give Gaitor more time to overtake them.
Heart twisting, Calida watched Panther walk away with Sara. He hadn't once looked at her since the clan members recognized them. He was grateful for what she'd done—their embrace had told her that—but maybe what he felt for her went no further. How could it? He knew she'd ended her own children's lives. She was unworthy of anything except contempt and hatred.
Not sure what to do, Calida tried to focus on her surroundings. Except for Winter Rain, the rest of the clan had followed Panther and Sara. "It is not good between you and Panther?" Winter Rain asked abruptly. "He does not want to be near you?"
