The Princess and the Wolf

by Karen Kay

  “But—”

  “I must be certain.”

  He felt her swallow, hard. Nonetheless, she said, “Very well.”

  And once more they returned to silence while High Wolf again leaned back against the tree. How long they sat as such, within that hollowed-out tree trunk, High Wolf couldn’t have said. But during that time, he became convinced of one thing: He would require the comfort of a widow…and soon. Being this close to a woman, holding her, inhaling her heady fragrance, feeling her softness, her breasts achingly pert…

  Perhaps at the Mandan village he might find relief…

  Slowly, she moved, taking hold of his hand, and pressing his fingertips over her lips, she said, “I am cold.”

  He knew this; he could feel her shivering within his arms. In sooth, he had hoped that holding her would help warm her. But obviously, that wasn’t enough.

  Reaching down, he brought her fingertips to his lips, as he said, “You must will yourself to be warm.”

  “What?” she mouthed. “I do not understand.”

  “You must ‘will’ warmth into your body.”

  “What? ‘Will’ it?” she mouthed. “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. It is easy enough to do. You must pretend you are so warm, you would remove your clothing if you could.”

  “What? How? I still don’t understand.”

  And he repeated, “With your mind, build a fire around us.”

  “But—”

  “Do this, build this fire, until you are warm.”

  “High Wolf, I—”

  “Did you try to do it?”

  “You know I have not.”

  “Then you wish to be cold throughout the night?”

  He felt her slight sigh. “You know very well that I don’t.”

  “Then you must try.”

  “Very well,” she mouthed.

  “Good, now, when I tell you to do so, with your mind, build a fire which surrounds us.”

  He waited a moment, then queried, “Did you do it?”

  “No, and this is silly. How can I build a fire when water surrounds me?”

  “Then pretend the water has dried up.”

  “But—”

  “Did you pretend?”

  “No.”

  “Well, do so. Pretend the water is gone. The sun came out and dried it all up.” He waited. “Did you do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well,” he said silently. “Now pretend you are building a fire.” Again he waited. “Did you do it?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “Now warm your hands on the closest ember.”

  “High Wolf?”

  “Yes?”

  “I cannot. Within that fire, I see a cloaked figure. One which I saw earlier tonight in the fire.”

  “Humph. Then leave him there and build another fire next to that last one.” He waited. “Did you do it?”

  “Yes.”

  He felt her smile. “It’s odd,” she said, “but I do feel warmer.”

  “Of course you do,” he mouthed. “You can control any aspect of your body with your mind alone, for, as Grandfather has often told me, it is the mind that rules the body, not the opposite.”

  “Grandfather? Who is Grandfather?”

  “He who taught me the ways of the wolf clan.”

  “The ways of what?”

  “The wolf clan. The white man calls those of our clan, scouts. Did you know that a scout can survive and flourish in any terrain, hot or cold, freezing or boiling?”

  “Can they?”

  “Haa’he. And how do you think it is accomplished?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “By practicing,” he told her. “By learning to control the body with the mind alone. Now, build this fire, and keep it burning until you feel so warm, you determine that you must remove your clothing…and then I will help you to do so…”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, he was certain she did not readily understand the implication. However, at length, he felt her smile.

  It was a simple enough gesture, that smile, nothing more than a mere grin, but somehow, the knowledge that they both shared a fantasy, no matter how slight, created such a frenzy within him, he was surprised that she did not comment on the rapid beating of his heart.

  Silently, he berated himself, for she was too close and there was no manner in which he could hide his responses to her, particularly one very masculine reaction.

  But she said not a word. Alas, she pulled back into his arms until she was closer to him, and High Wolf thought for a moment that perhaps he had gotten lucky at last. Perhaps she wanted him after all.

  And so it was without any thought to the future that he threw himself into the magnetic pull of her embrace, certain that this action alone had to be the sweetest of tortures.

  And of one thing he was entirely certain; he would have no need himself to build the image of that fire this night…

  A scout’s movement in water could not be accurately described as floating, or as swimming, either, for he used the water’s own energy to propel him, riding currents and whirlpools effortlessly, dancing back and forth from one tide to another, gliding over obstacles with ease. In truth, to an outsider’s eye, a trained scout’s efforts in the water might have looked more like a water ballet than an effort to swim.

  Morning had dawned gray and dreary as a cloud cover marred the rising sun. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the danger from the night before had passed on by them. High Wolf had sensed its absence at once. Perhaps, he had reasoned, the enemy’s scout had reason to hurry home, or mayhap, recognizing the skills from another member of the same clan, the man had decided to allow sanctuary to the two refugees and had left.

  Whatever the reason, High Wolf had welcomed the chance to leave the half-submerged tree stump. Traveling by waterway, he had begun his search for a safer place to pitch camp.

  At present, the river surrounded him like a friend, for High Wolf had merged his mind with the water. In his arms he still held the princess, afraid to let go of her, lest she be swept away by some unruly draft.

  And though he was acutely aware of the princess beside him, his perception was extended well past their own location, for a scout must never lose sight of where he was, which included the environment for several miles around him. And so, having sensed no immediate danger close at hand, he let his mind drift onto other things.

  The warriors tonight had been from the Pawnee tribe, and he wondered what was occurring in their country that they should be so far north. Had they some grievance? And if they did, was it possible they had set the boat afire?

  It was entirely possible. The Pawnee were, at present, in an undeclared state of war with the whites. At first friendly and open to the newcomers in their country, the Pawnee had welcomed anyone to their village, only to find themselves sick with the dreaded diseases of the white man.

  Their numbers had now been so reduced that those left in the tribe had declared open war on any white persons, be they male or female.

  It was not a sane response, thought High Wolf. Even Grandfather, who rarely commented on anything, had gone on to say that “he who would fight another with anger, and anger alone, becomes that other.” Therefore, it was only to be expected that at some point, the Pawnee would again be friendly toward the whites.

  But what were they doing this far north? Perhaps they were looking for another wife for the Morning Star, a ceremony that always ended in the slaying of that “wife.” Or perhaps they had come on a simple mission to visit their sister tribe, the Riccarees, whose country they were now in.

  Or was there something else afoot this night? The princess had said she’d seen a shadow in the fire. And though she might doubt her own mind about such things, High Wolf did not.

  Had something else stirred up the Pawnee?

  Tomorrow, when he had at last attained a safe camp for the princess, he would return to this spot to look for survi
vors and to see what clues he might find from Mother Earth.

  In any case, he would do well to watch the princess until he could return her safely to St. Louis.

  Briefly, High Wolf glanced toward Sierra as he danced his way through the river’s currents. It seemed remarkable to him to discover that the princess did not know how to swim, since even the youngest person in his tribe learned this skill at an age when they were beginning to walk—sometimes before even that. Albeit, even more astonishing was the fact that he had not known that she could not.

  He would have to teach her.

  Teach her?

  High Wolf frowned. She was not his woman that he should take on that responsibility. And yet, if he did not show her the basics of staying afloat, he could never trust her near the water.

  It was not his problem, came a voice of reason.

  Or was it?

  “High Wolf,” she spoke to him softly. “Tell me. What kind of swimming is this that you do?”

  “I do not swim…as you think of it. I ride the river’s currents and use the power of the river to propel me through the water.”

  “But it looks so easy when you do it,” she said. “And yet I can see that we have skirted around many obstacles and obstructions—sometimes long before these things even present themselves. Does this have something to do with you?”

  High Wolf grinned. “You are observing the way the scout behaves in water. It is something that every scout learns at a young age.”

  “Oh? Really? Please, do tell me about it.”

  “There is no easy way to relate it,” he said. “It is better if I show you how to swim and how to blend your mind with that of the water.”

  “Yes, that would be quite in order,” she said, sending him a surreptitious glance. “Then, do I take it that you no longer intend to force me to return to St. Louis?”

  “I do.”

  He saw her frown as she said, “But you just said—”

  “I will have to teach you to swim so that you might be safe in the water. You must understand the power of the water and its rules, for if you do not know them and if you do not understand them, and you choose to fight the water, you will find it a formidable opponent, a battle you have little hope of winning. No, I will show you how to swim before we return to St. Louis. How else can I trust you when I am not with you?”

  Again, she sent him a warm glance, only this time she appeared slightly confused, and she asked, “You would care?”

  How did he answer that?

  With the truth, he decided, and he said, “Of course I care. You were once to be my wife. As Grandfather has often said, ‘A man does not change his attitude toward a thing simply because that thing bites him.’ No, a wise man understands why the thing bit him and makes allowance; a wiser man does all this, and never makes the same mistake again.”

  The princess turned her head away from him, although he heard her mutter, “How can you make it seem as though I treated you so monstrously ill, when you know that the opposite is true?”

  When you know that the opposite is true.

  The comment caught him off guard, and though he let go of his concentration for only a moment, the water grabbed hold of him and spun him around, slipping them both into a waiting eddy.

  High Wolf recovered easily enough, returning his attention to the water and to the matter at hand, “dancing” his way back into the stream. Still, in the back of his mind was a question. Could it be true? Did the princess believe he had treated her badly?

  How was that possible? It was she who had left him; she who had betrayed him. He remembered it well…

  “Come out, my son, and show yourself, for there is much for us to speak of.”

  High Wolf listened to the words of Father Junipero, but remained where he was, for, in his own mind, to show himself was little more than an act of betrayal. After all, hadn’t he, the prince and Sierra found this spot, relegating it to secrecy? Hadn’t they each taken pains to make it disappear in the landscape, as High Wolf had taught them both to do?

  “Come out, son. I know you are here. Maria, Princess Sierra’s maid, has brought me here, and although Maria has left, I have strict instructions from the princess. Princess Sierra has also given me a note to bring to you.”

  Though tempted to do as asked, High Wolf hesitated. Instinct kept him quiet.

  But Father Junipero was not finished, and he said, “Come now, my son, and talk to me, for I know you were expecting to see the princess tonight. I have come in her place.”

  High Wolf stayed where he was. Something didn’t seem quite right. And it would do the Father no harm to imagine that he spoke to nothing more than the wind, at least for a few minutes.

  “So it appears that you have flown away, after all, my fine, young friend. And you, who thought yourself to be soon made a prince,” spat out Father Junipero, with what appeared to be dislike. “You, who questioned me at every turn; you, who brought ideas of freedom to Princess Sierra’s mind; you, who dared to oppose me. Have you known how much I have hated you?”

  Though High Wolf said not a word, the father’s outburst suddenly validated all those times when High Wolf had looked upon the man with much confusion, seeing friendliness in his countenance, but sensing only hatred.

  “Come now, my friend,” said Father Junipero more urgently. “I know that you are here. For I have sources that tell me you await the princess.”

  High Wolf kept himself hidden. In truth, so undetectable was he that even the most aware scout could not have found him.

  “Ah, I see. You refuse to show yourself to me. Embarrassed to be in the presence of a man of God?” said the father, glancing cautiously into the forest that surrounded the clearing.

  A man of God? High Wolf knew, at last, that in this, the father lied. Only he, who would walk the path of enlightenment and righteousness, was a man of God. This man, Father Junipero, was proving himself to be no more than a charlatan.

  Silently, without disturbing the forces of nature that breathed in and out all around them, High Wolf crept from his hiding place, which had been high in a tree. Coming down noiselessly onto his feet, High Wolf stalked to an area in back of the father, for here was true scout warfare—that of the mind…

  Slowly, High Wolf stole up behind the priest, and without betraying so much as a breath, touched the man’s ear.

  “Who is that?” Father Junipero immediately swung around, clawing at the air, but he grasped hold of nothing, for High Wolf had faded swiftly, easily and noiselessly back into the shadows.

  “Did you know that the princess has sent me here with three hundred gold dukatens? And do you know why?”

  Gold?

  “To pay you off, my good friend,” said the father, answering his own question. “She told me to tell you that, while she considers you a friend, she could never seriously consider marrying you. You, no more than an American Indian.”

  Lies. These were lies. High Wolf would no more believe them than he would stop breathing.

  “You may as well go away from here, for she will not be coming to meet you tonight. She marries the prince in the morning. But in the goodness of her heart, the princess could not see you leave here with nothing.”

  Sliding slowly, silently back to the priest, High Wolf took hold of the hem of the man’s frock, pinning it to the ground with a sharp stone. Then touching his sandaled foot, High Wolf faded unobtrusively away.

  Startled, the priest jumped. “Here, here, now, come out and confront me face-to-face. For you do not scare me, my friend. Nothing can frighten a man such as myself.”

  He lied. High Wolf knew it was so, for though he might deny it, Father Junipero’s eyes darted about the dark and deserted clearing frantically. It was not the act of a man who was in possession of himself.

  Calmly, High Wolf picked up another stone, and aiming it carefully, threw it into the north side of the forest.

  “Here!” said the priest, as he started to strut toward the spot. “You though
t to hide from me, did you?” But Father Junipero was going nowhere. He could not. His frock was caught upon the ground, and instead of moving forward, he tripped, falling to his knees.

  Meanwhile, High Wolf faded back into the shadows, slipping off to the west of the clearing, where he made a howl like a wolf.

  “I know that is you, High Wolf,” said the priest. “And these little games do not frighten me.”

  Nonetheless, the priest trembled.

  Slipping to the east, High Wolf again howled, then set off toward the south and finally to the north, repeating the same process.

  “You think to confuse me and frighten me by pretending to be a wolf. Well, I know you are little more than such a creature. Certainly you are worth no consideration to a man such as myself.”

  That decided it. High Wolf vowed he would rather be a wolf than a creature such as this man. Nonetheless, once more High Wolf crept up behind the priest, untying the father’s rope from around his waist and pulling on his cloak. The garment fell away, leaving Father Junipero standing in no more than a full black surplice.

  “What’s that? Where are you? Again, you think to frighten me, but I believe that it is I who might shock you. For I have come to tell you what the princess truly thinks of you.”

  Skirting around to the side of the priest, and skulking silently upon him, High Wolf undid the clasps that held the man’s surplice and cassock together, and with a single pull, left the man standing in no more than his sandals and the cap upon his head.

  This seemed to be too much for the priest, and with an ugly shout, he threw the sack he’d been holding into the bush, a sack of something that clinked as it hit the ground. And shivering from either fright or the cold, Father Junipero turned, picked up his frock, and fled.

  However, once the priest had gone, High Wolf retraced his steps and trod to the spot where the sack had fallen. Picking it up, he found, to his horror, that three hundred gold dukaten did, indeed, fill the satchel. That it also contained Princess Sierra’s personal seal brought him a great deal of confusion.

  High Wolf frowned deeply, and taking the satchel with him, crept back through the forest, toward the castle.