Running Wolf

by Jenna Kernan

“Your mother waits for you there?”

  Raven nodded, knowing in her heart that she was not ready to die. But this was not up to her. It was up to the circle of men now sitting warm and snug in their lodge, while their captives, wet and shivering, awaited their decision.

  None came.

  Finally Running Wolf appeared again and ordered the warriors on guard to take them to the tent of the common women. He told them to separate Raven and put her in the tent where a woman stayed when she had broken her link with the moon. She noticed as they were taken away that no man touched her, and she understood because they thought she bled.

  Running Wolf was still trying to protect her, and though she did not appreciate being separated from the others, the knowledge that he still cared warmed her a little.

  Later, as she lay wet and isolated in the dark, wrists still bound, she listened to Snake’s baby cry in the night and then another voice crying and then another. Raven cried, too, quietly, alone in the night, while she waited and waited.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Running Wolf sat before his mother’s lodge. He felt sick to his stomach and sick at heart. She had run. Hadn’t he told her that he could keep her with him? That he could marry Spotted Fawn and she would live with them. In time she might even have become part of the tribe.

  Now she had done this stupid, selfish thing.

  But it wasn’t selfish. He knew that. She had done all she could, risked everything, to bring the other captives home.

  If she had been selfish, she would have taken her horse and run. He doubted that even he could have caught her, for he had seen her ride.

  Now what was he do?

  Big Thunder arrived and sat beside him on the buffalo-skin rug he rested upon.

  “Red Hawk is still calling for their lives,” he said.

  Running Wolf sagged. “Are they considering this?”

  Big Thunder lifted his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious. “She stole the chief’s horse.”

  “He can’t ride it.”

  “He plans to have it killed when he dies so he can bring it along to the Spirit World.”

  Running Wolf knew of only one other warrior who’d asked that his horse be slaughtered at his death. Most men were content to wait for their horse to arrive, or they had a quirt or dance stick made with the hair of a favorite mount and that was sewn inside the buffalo robe with them before they were placed on the scaffold. Often their favorite horse’s mane and tail was cut short so their mount could mourn with the tribe.

  Running Wolf started to rise. “I have to go speak with them again.”

  Big Thunder pressed him back down. “Wait until he leaves. You two cannot be at the same council fire together.”

  “I was polite.”

  “You were gnashing your teeth. If you keep on like this people will think you are crazy, or worse, bewitched by one of the captives.” He gave Running Wolf a pointed look. “If any say such a thing again and others believe him, then none will listen to your words.”

  Running Wolf sank to the buffalo robe. “Has anyone said such a thing?”

  “He has never stopped saying this. I said he was still mad because she unseated him. He was furious at me for that. But I said that you are protecting women, as we should all do, and that his actions seemed vengeful.”

  “And you have made an enemy of a man who may be chief.”

  “If he is elected, I will go and join the Crow,” said Big Thunder.

  That almost made Running Wolf smile.

  “He has to talk himself out soon. The council is getting restless and wants him to give up the talking stick. I say, let him talk. It is the best way to see he never becomes chief. He is making everyone grumpy because they are getting hungry and stiff from sitting.”

  Running Wolf glanced at the sky that was changing fast from pink to blue. The captives had been returned early this morning.

  “Has anyone fed the captives?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Running Wolf stood and poked his head in the lodge where his mother worked on a supper for them both. He asked her to bring the women food. She seemed as if she would refuse, but after a long silence, she rose and gathered pemmican from their stores.

  She kept her voice low, so as not to embarrass him before Big Thunder. “This is a time for putting food aside for the starving moon. Not a time to give away what we have.”

  “I will hunt again before then,” Running Wolf assured.

  Big Thunder walked part of the way with them.

  “Will you tell me when he leaves the council?” asked Running Wolf, anxious for another chance to push for leniency.

  Big Thunder nodded and cut toward the council lodge while Running Wolf followed his mother.

  They stopped before the lodge of common women, but she refused to enter. That left Running Wolf to bring them the food and water. The young guards looked horrified that his own mother would leave him to feed bleeding women. Both were still without their first coup and anxious to show their strength. He was their war chief, after all, and such a task was demeaning to say the least.

  “A mother can make a man do what no other man would ever expect,” said Running Wolf. “The same can happen with a wife or daughter.”

  “I’m never getting married, then,” said Living Elk, watching Running Wolf’s mother disappear.

  “Do not say that. You’ll insult his mother,” said Spotted Horse.

  “Are they still tied?” asked Running Wolf.

  Spotted Horse looked to Living Elk, who nodded.

  “Come help me, then.”

  Living Elk preceded him inside and freed each woman so they could eat. Afterward Running Wolf walked with Living Elk the twenty paces to the separate smaller lodge where Mouse usually lived.

  “Did you go in there?” asked Running Wolf. And better still, how would he get a moment alone with her?

  “We just opened the flap and tossed her in.”

  And she had been lying alone and bound all day.

  Running Wolf turned to Living Elk. “Tell Spotted Horse to watch the lodge of common women while you go and get me the hide of a wolverine.”

  “Wolverine? Why?”

  Running Wolf exhaled his frustration. He was not accustomed to being questioned, and Living Elk realized his mistake. He turned to go but Running Wolf told him to stop.

  “You can touch a woman who bleeds if you do it with the hide of a wolverine. Didn’t you learn that?”

  He shook his head.

  He likely hadn’t because Running Wolf had just made the entire thing up so he could be alone with Raven, whom he knew did not bleed. He’d chosen a wolverine because they were nearly impossible to trap, and so the furs were extremely scarce. It might take Living Elk a while to find what his war chief needed.

  “I will find one,” promised the young man. Then he set off toward the other lodge, presumably to speak to Spotted Horse.

  Running Wolf bowed his head in shame. This woman had made him a liar. Still, he waited until he had ducked around the larger tepee before lifting the flap and entering the hovel of a lodge. The interior smelled of human sweat and musk and blood. His nostrils wrinkled and for just a moment he considered backing out, for though he knew Raven did not bleed, this place was soiled with the blood of other women, and he wondered if this might steal his power.

  His hand went automatically to his throat and the medicine bundle that protected him in raids and battles. Then he called out to Raven.

  “Here,” she whispered.

  He found her in an instant, struggling to rise, as she was still tied hand and foot. By feel he reached the bonds at her ankles and sliced through them. Next he cut the ones that held her wrists. She toppled against him.

  “My legs and hands ar
e asleep,” she murmured.

  He rubbed the blood back into them and fought the urge to sling her over his back and run for the horses. She could escape. He knew he could save her. And if he did this, all would know it was he who had let her go.

  He would lose his place as war chief. He would forfeit any chance of succeeding Iron Bear. But he would still be a warrior of the Sioux. He could still serve the next chief and fight his people’s enemies. Was she worth the cost?

  Raven stretched her legs and then flexed her hands. He drew her into his arms and held her and she rested against him.

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “Why did you go? I told you I would take care of you. I told you we could be together.”

  “Yes. But what of my people? What about the ones who are not adopted by the Sioux? Little Deer will be made a common woman any day and Mouse and Snake are already ones. What of Stork, her son? Will he be a warrior someday?”

  He knew that the baby was half Sioux, but he was also half Crow. Where did such a boy belong?

  “He would be accepted by your tribe?” he asked.

  “His mother is Apsáalooke, so he is Apsáalooke. The Black Lodges tribe will welcome him and teach him to be a man.”

  Running Wolf knew Stork would never join this tribe, and if Running Wolf did not do something to stop Red Hawk’s efforts, they would all be put to death.

  “These women are not your responsibility,” said Running Wolf, feeling as though he was talking to himself.

  “They are. Can’t you understand? They are my tribe. They asked me to help them. How could I refuse? And although I have failed them, if I have the chance again I would still give everything I have to save them.”

  She shamed him, for he knew he did not have the love in his heart for his tribe that this woman held for hers.

  “I could save you. I could take you out of here now. Put you on my horse.”

  “I will not leave them.”

  “Alone you could make it.” Even as he made this offer, he held her tight, fearing she would pick the others over her life. While he would pick her over anything and anyone.

  He drew back.

  “What is it?” she whispered, her voice telling him that she sensed some change in him.

  “I cannot be chief.”

  “But you must.”

  “No. I would not have done what you have done. And even if I let you go, I would wonder if it was your tribe I faced. If it was your village I raided. It would make me weak.”

  “Not if I stay.”

  “You said you would escape again.”

  “I said I would help the others escape. If you marry Spotted Fawn and become the next chief, you can free them. Do this and I will be yours.”

  “I do not want to marry her. I want only you.”

  Raven shook her head. “Marry her.”

  “If you were not Crow, I would make you mine.”

  “I am Apsáalooke and I will be yours.”

  Running Wolf thought of her offer and her words. She’d just said she would give everything she had to save them. That included staying with him as a captive instead of riding free across the open prairie toward home. Did she love him so much or did she love her people so much?

  If he cared for her, could he really do this to her?

  If he didn’t, he would lose her forever.

  “Please, Running Wolf. Do you not see? This is a chance to help them. A different kind of coup.”

  He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I will do what you ask. I will marry her and keep you safe. I will become the next chief and free your people. To have you, I would do anything.”

  She sagged against him, her breath ragged. He wanted to stay with her, love her. But not here in this place.

  He released her and reached for his bag, offering her the food he had brought and waiting while she ate.

  “I would keep you here until the council has decided. If they think you bleed, they will not touch you. It gives me some time to convince them to spare you and the others.”

  He offered her water and she drank thirstily.

  “You will not leave this lodge until I come for you?”

  “I promise.”

  Then he left her to return to the council. It was bright enough outside to see the other lodge and the shadow moving between them. Was that Spotted Horse returning with the wolverine?

  He walked around to the front of the common women’s lodge to find Spotted Horse guarding diligently. The young man straightened at his approach.

  “Do you need anything?”

  The young man shook his head and Running Wolf made note to bring this one and Living Elk on his next raid. Time for these young bucks to earn a feather or two. And he needed only a handful more to make his war bonnet.

  Running Wolf returned to the council lodge after their dinner recess to find Weasel speaking about their war chief’s bravery on the last raid. Red Hawk was not among the circle. Running Wolf frowned as a trickle of dread slipped through him.

  He joined the circle, sitting between Yellow Blanket and Black Cloud, one of the council elders. Running Wolf glanced about to note that Big Thunder had not returned.

  Weasel gave him a look that told him things were not going well.

  “He is war chief and it is his decision whether to take captives or kill enemies. None who follow should question him. It is easy to question after there is time to think. It is harder to make the choice at the moment with what information you have. I would not want to follow any other than Running Wolf.”

  He passed the talking stick to the next man, Winter Horse, who held it for a moment as if considering whether he would speak. Running Wolf stared at the large open sockets of the coyote skull and the jaws that, even when tied shut, seemed to be laughing at him. Winter Horse passed the talking stick to the one beside him, Lone Feather, who spoke.

  “Running Wolf is a good war chief. But he was different on this last raid. I do not know why.”

  The stick went next to Turtle Rattler, who also spoke. “We are gathered to speak about the captives and their escape. Are the two subjects related or are we drawn down a false path leading nowhere?”

  Big Thunder ducked inside the lodge, followed by Red Hawk. They moved together and sat directly across from him between Walking Buffalo, an elder, and Yellow Cloud, a warrior. Red Hawk and Running Wolf divided the circle in half, with the elders on one side and the warriors on the other. Big Thunder sat closer to Red Hawk.

  A second row of younger warriors surrounded the inner circle. Running Wolf looked around at the faces. There were those who were also in contention for chief: Yellow Blanket, the chief’s eldest son, Two Knives, Spotted Horse, Lone Feather and, of course, Red Hawk.

  Red Hawk was not favored by many because of his lack of skills, the most recent being that he’d counted no coup in the last battle and was unseated by a woman in the last raid. More recently he had faired poorly in the buffalo hunt. Before this last raid, Running Wolf would have said that the three favorites were Two Knives, who preferred hunting to war, Yellow Blanket and Lone Feather, who were both wise but old in a time when many men wanted a young, vital chief.

  And then there was himself.

  He was under attack but must depend on the warriors who trusted and respected him to speak, for a man who must defend himself had already lost. The talking stick went to his best friend, Big Thunder, who looked at him directly and then passed the stick along without a word.

  Running Wolf felt a prickle down his spine. Everyone watched as the stick made its way to Red Hawk. He gripped it like a war ax and drew in a breath to speak.

  Red Hawk had followed Running Wolf to the common women’s lodge, and he told the gathering he had seen their war chief send away
one of the guards so he could enter the place where women were unclean. This caused much shifting and troubled glances but none spoke.

  Running Wolf sat as if a stone, for he knew what came next. Red Hawk was a poor rider, a worse shot and less than bold in battle. But he had an excellent memory and recited the words spoken between Running Wolf and Raven. How he was going to let her escape, but she would not leave the others, so they plotted for him to marry the chief’s daughter so he would be the next chief and then free the enemy Crow. How he had said to her that he could not be chief because he would be a weak leader, unwilling to face and kill their enemy.

  How this Crow captive had convinced their war chief to betray them all.

  “Do you deny it?” asked Red Hawk.

  When asked a question, a man could answer.

  Running Wolf lifted his chin and replied. The shame was deep and red, but he was a man and a man admitted the truth. “I do not deny this.”

  The younger men forgot to be silent, and a buzz like a hornet’s nest filled the lodge as Red Hawk passed the talking stick to their chief. But Turtle Rattler stopped the coyote staff’s progress.

  “A young man who is brave in battle may be made foolish by a woman. All of us who are old were once young and remember this. An elk in the spring goes mad with love, crashing into trees, attacking any rival, even to the point of forgetting to eat and sleep. Men are little different. But when the spring has past the elk becomes what he was before and forgets his heated blood. I say that this woman must go, and when she is gone our war chief will forget her.”

  Running Wolf’s skin dimpled in the warm air as an inner frost crept through him, freezing him to the spot. Suddenly he did not worry over his loss of honor or the certainty that he would never lead his people. Suddenly he feared for Snow Raven’s life, and in that instant he understood that he loved her. He would do anything to save her.

  The buzzing in his ears made it hard to hear for a moment. He concentrated, seeing Turtle Rattler’s mouth move, but was unable to make sense of his words. At last he could understand again and his blood chilled.

  “This woman must be killed. The others will then be as they have been. And as for Frog, who did not run, I think she should be rewarded and become Sioux.”