Tuka and White Cloud grazed and drank behind bushes which kept them out of sight, though it was unlikely anyone would be traveling this late.
“Guard and protect, Maja,” Kionee instructed the animal, who loped away to make rounds of the secluded location. “He will warn us if an enemy approaches.”
After they ate and unrolled their sleeping mats, he asked, “Will you lie with me this moon? It will be our last chance to be together.”
“I hunger for you, Stalking Wolf, as you hunger for me.”
Kionee took off her shirt, leggings, moccasins, and breechclout while he did the same. “I cannot remove my mask, for we may have to put on our garments and ride fast if enemies come, or scouts from your people. No one must view my face as a woman. Besides, the moon offers little light and it will be gone soon, so you will not be able to see me as I am beneath it.”
As Stalking Wolf unfastened the band around her chest and dropped it on the pile of her clothes, he said in a husky tone, “My heart sees you as you are in truth. Your beauty lives in my memory. One day, with the Great Spirit’s help, nothing will hide you from me or stand between us.”
She lifted her hand to run her fingertips over his parted lips. “I long for that sun to rise. What if it does not?”
Stalking Wolf embraced her and comforted, “Do not doubt the sacred visions; they will come true. They tell me you will be mine.”
Kionee wished she had his same confidence in those mystical dreams, but stark reality prevented it. She knew that no matter how urgently she prayed for release to become his mate, it might never come to pass. How—her aching heart questioned—would she live without him after winning him? She did not know, and that dread tormented her. For now, she must put aside her worries and fears and take advantage of this precious opportunity. She clutched his head and pressed it closer as he kissed her neck, teased her jawline and cheek, and wandered to her lips. She sealed her mouth to his and shared his breath between numerous and sensuous kisses. Her eager hands stroked his back and moved along his spine. She felt the coolness of his buttocks against her warm palms and trailed her fingers over the slight protrusions of his hipbones.
Stalking Wolfs mouth trailed kisses down her throat as she leaned back her head to give him plenty of room to tantalize her. His lips nibbled at her collarbone and danced lightly over her shoulders. His hands slipped down her arms and grasped her slender waist. She was strong and agile, gentle and giving. He guided his hands upward at a leisurely pace, stroking and memorizing every inch they passed. He cupped her firm breasts and kneaded their nipples to taut buds. His thumbs moved back and forth across those peaks to stimulate them further. Then he lifted her, placed her on his sleeping mat, and lay beside her there.
Kionee slid her fingers into the hair near his ears and led his willing mouth to hers. She gave and took quick and short kisses, teethed his lips, and titillated him with her mischievous tongue. She laughed when he gave her chin a playful bite and made noises at the bad taste of her paints. She sighed in pleasure as he fastened his mouth and attention on her breasts. She squirmed and moaned as his hand stroked her to throbbing need. “My heart, you steal all thoughts except those of you and your skills,” she murmured in near-breathless delight.
“We need no wits this moon, my love, for Maja guards us from harm and will give us warning.” His lips and deft fingers returned to arousing her to a greater height of desire. He sucked in a rush of air when she grasped his manhood and moaned in pleasure at the sensations she created.
Suddenly Kionee could wait no longer to feel him within her as before near the river. She released her grasp on his maleness and used her hands to shift him into place between her thighs.
Stalking Wolf caught her message and obeyed. He entered her with a bold thrust and grinned with satisfaction at her gasp of pleasure. She held him tightly and possessively within the circle of her legs, matching him stroke for stroke. When she reached her pinnacle, his shaft quivered, and blood pounded through his body as his heart soared with joy. After she relaxed beneath him, he dashed aside his control to savor the same kind of splendor she had found.
Afterward, Stalking Wolf held her in his arms, kissing and caressing her until their soaring spirits settled and their bodies calmed. “I love you, Kionee; you are my wind of destiny. Forever my heart and body are yours.”
“I will love you and belong only to you until my last breath is taken.”
“It will be as my mate.”
Kionee did not want to spoil the special moment so she did not argue with him. “We must bathe and put on our garments. We must sleep and be rested for what lies ahead.”
After doing so, they nestled together on the same sleeping mat for the first and only time they would allow themselves to have that pleasure. Maja returned and took his place near them, yet remained alert.
Daylight was almost gone when Kionee and Stalking Wolf reached their destination. Hundreds of conical abodes were outlined against the horizon. The Cheyenne camp was enormous and colorful. The Hanueva camp was smaller and plain. Horses were tethered beside every tipi and dogs were tied to stakes near many of them. The outside fires were nearly all extinguished, as the evening meal had passed. Few people were in sight, and those who saw them waved a greeting to their returning warrior and stared a moment at her.
Kionee knew it was her mask which caught their interest. She did not know what would happen between them now, but they could not seek out each other without a strong reason. There seemed no hope for a private union. Yet, she prayed he was not lost to her forever. Her heart beat heavily and a sadness flooded her body. She told him they must hurry to locate their families’ tipis before the invisible new moon made their search harder and longer. There was also the risk of tripping over things and being injured, or of alarming the camp with fears of a sneak attack.
“I will help you find yours.” Stalking Wolf answered. “Mine will be easy, for our chief camps in the center of our circles. Your tribe spreads out and uses no bands.”
“We have our places, so I know where to look. You go to your people and I will go to mine as you promised. We must not expose our secret to anyone. You must tell your chief and people that tivas stay to themselves and mean no insult by it. I love you and will miss you.”
“I love you and will hunger to see you every sun and moon. I will be careful to guard us from danger. We must both pray and watch for a path to freedom for you. I will not be happy again until you are mine.”
“If we are careless and exposed, there will be no chance for us. We must part before others wonder why we linger.”
Kionee rode to the right and Stalking Wolf headed to the left, both suffering over their separation and angered by the obstacles between them.
She located her family’s tipi when she saw Recu tethered beside it. She picketed Tuka with him and unloaded her possessions. She ducked and entered her family’s dwelling, to find them preparing their sleeping mats. She had hoped they would already be asleep, for she was in no mood to talk. “We have returned safe.” Kionee said quietly. “It is good to see you unharmed.”
Strong Rock, Martay, Blue Bird, and Moon Child greeted her with joy and relief. All voiced questions at almost the same time.
“Our journey was a success, but I will share the news on the next sun. The ride was long; I am tired and must rest. Maja will sleep near me until others see he is not wild and is no threat. I placed the band you beaded for him around his neck, Mother, but it does not show in the dark. After we awaken, Father, you must tell me of your journey and about the Cheyenne.”
“It will be so, my son. Sleep, you have done well. Our hearts are filled with joy to have you returned alive and uninjured.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“After we rest, my brother, we have many things to tell you.”
“When the sun rises, I will be eager to hear them, Blue Bird.”
I am not a “son.” I am not a “brother.” I am not a man. I am a woman. Why can y
ou not see and accept that truth and let me live as I am? Remorse filled Kionee as she realized her family was not to blame for her dark fate; her tribal laws were. Forgive me, Atah, for my anger, for my heart is filled with pain and sadness. Help me, help us, I beg you.
The following morning, Kionee did not have time to speak with anyone before she went to visit the Haukau for two and a half days. One had been erected by the tivas for their use soon after the tribe’s arrival. For once, she was glad to make this trip; after her two nights of passion with Stalking Wolf it was a relief to know she was not with child.
Another tiva who joined her on the third day told her the first buffalo hunt of the season was to begin the following day. A great ceremony was planned by the Strong Hearts, and Hanueva were invited to observe it.
Kionee wondered if she and others like her would be allowed to attend. If so, she would get to see her lover and observe him with his family and people. She also would learn if any female of his tribe was pursuing him. She prayed for Atah to permit her a glimpse of Stalking Wolf. But would He be kind and generous after what she had done in the mountains and on the plains?
From a distance near the Hanueva camp, Kionee sat on Recu’s back to witness the Strong Heart ritual before their departure. The eight-year-old chestnut was well trained, and skilled for the task ahead of them. Tuka was a good riding and hunting mount, but it took a special animal to race with the buffalo, one used only for that purpose and honored for its prowess and courage. Kionee was bathed, wearing clean garments, and ready to begin. Her mask was vivid, painted to perfection, her braids were neat and tight. Her disguise was unquestionable. She knew her poise and expression did not expose the turmoil that bubbled within her. She knew Maja was safe, as he was with her mother, so she did not have to worry about him. He would stay close to Martay as ordered. When the women followed them later to butcher the game, to help haul it to camp, then prepare it, her beloved companion would remain with her father.
The other tivas waited alongside her, as did most of the male hunters. They would leave as a party and separate as needed to pursue their prey. Her gaze sought Stalking Wolf but could not find him among the crowd. She had not seen him since their arrival. She wondered if their passion would be evident to others if he came to Strong Rock’s tipi under the guise of visiting friends. Her family and tribe could do nothing more than suspect them of breaking the tiva laws unless they gathered proof she was guilty of betrayal. If she and her beloved were careful, she reasoned, they should be safe. But what would she answer if asked outright about her feelings and conduct? She did not know if she would be honest, for the punishment and repercussions were too painful to imagine. She loved and respected her family, and they would suffer greatly from her misdeeds. She knew what her punishment would be and doubted she could survive it, so she had never discussed it with Stalking Wolf. He probably assumed she would be banished and would come to him, but he was wrong about her punishment, very wrong…
Kionee forced herself not to dwell on such grim thoughts. Instead, she tried to think of ways to dissuade Night Walker from his ongoing pursuit of her heart. After she reported on her journey to the Hanueva council last night, the persistent hunter had followed her outside to ask more questions about her absence. She did not know if he was suspicious, or only jealous of the time she spent alone with another man. She had tried to appear calm and genial but Night Walker strained her control and their past friendship. As Taysinga neared them, Kionee had hailed the other tiva and drawn her into a talk about the impending hunt. When an opening arrived, she excused herself and left Taysinga and Night Walker together. She noticed Taysinga’s smile and nod, as if the woman caught her trick and appreciated it. Night Walker was in the midst of a story that Taysinga found exciting; she was heaping praise on him, and he had no choice but to linger and finish his tale.
Kionee’s strayed attention returned to the Cheyenne camp. The Cheyenne warriors sat in a group astride their best buffalo horses, and were clad only in breechclouts and moccasins. Their hair was braided to prevent winds and movements from blowing it into their eyes and creating hazards. Knives were in sheaths on their belts. Quivers filled with arrows—marked by signs of ownership—rested on their backs. Bows were in their hands. They wore no adornments, and neither did their horses. Before the riders stood the Strong Heart chief and shaman, and all gazes were fixed upon the two men.
Big Hump lifted the bundle of Sacred Arrows and held them over his graying head. He wore a flowing bonnet of eagle feathers with a half-moon circle of snowy plumes from ear to ear. Buffalo horns were attached, with hackle feathers dangling from their points. A beaded browband held everything in place, including the wolfs tails suspended near his temples. His chest was covered by a hairbone breastplate, and a matching choker was around his neck. The front flap of his breechclout was decorated with beadwork; his leggings, with tiny scalplocks. His face was lined by age and sixty summers of exposure to the sun. His expression and bearing revealed reverence, dignity, and power. It was clear to Kionee that he had been a great warrior and was a beloved leader. She noticed his body was no longer firm and straight and strong. She knew he would remain in camp with the elders, as the event was too dangerous for him.
The Keeper of the Arrows began the ritual, and she strained to catch his words, spoken as loudly and clearly as possible so everyone could hear him.
“Great Spirit, our Creator and Provider, we call to you to give us victory this season. Our People have need of many buffalo hides and much meat for the coming winter. Protect our hunters and return them to camp and their families unharmed. Guide us to the provider of life You placed on Mother Earth for us to use. Give our arrows true flights. Grant us our needs. We will honor You in dance and song and with many offerings when this season passes. Hear us, Great Spirit, we send this prayer to You.”
Kionee watched him slide the bundle of Sacred Arrows into a leather and beaded quiver and kneel to wrap the holder in a buffalo skin with decorative paintings. She was glad she was in the front row and no one leaned forward to block her view. She observed as Medicine Eyes held skyward a weather-bleached buffalo skull whose white surface was painted with a variety of colorful marks, but she was too far away to see what the pictures were. She saw sage, sweet grass, and herbs protruding from its eye sockets and mouth cavity; and knew those were symbols of the plains, feeder of the buffalo. She listened as the shaman prayed.
“Great Spirit—Creator, Provider, and Protector of the Strong Hearts—we come to honor You for all things You give to us. Guard our hunters and give them success in their deeds. Give them eyes like the eagle’s, strength like the bear’s, cunning like the wolfs, swiftness of the deer. Make them fearless as the badger, sure of foot like the horned ones who travel the rocks of the mountains. Let their horses ride as one with them with those same skills. Great Spirit, we send this prayer to You.”
Medicine Eyes placed the ceremonial skull on a piece of buffalo hide, handling it as the sacred object it was to him and his tribe. He lifted a ritual arrow which was a longer and thicker shaft than normal. Hoofprints of buffalo and bighorn sheep were painted on its smooth surface. A length of deerskin was secured around its middle. Eagle feathers, grizzly and badger claws, and wolf tails dangled from the skin’s edges where a thong was tied for hanging it in the shaman’s lodge. As several men beat a large drum with sticks, he danced and chanted as he raised and lowered the arrow many times. When he and the drumming halted, he pointed it toward the north and said, “It will guide you to many buffalo. Go, Strong Hearts, and return with many hides and much meat.”
At that signal, the large band whooped and yelled and galloped off across the grasslands.
Bear’s Head gave the sign for the Hanuevas to do the same. The moment the words left his mouth, Night Walker and Little Weasel dashed off toward the departing Cheyenne as if they intended to overtake and beat those braves to the herd which was chosen for their attack.
They approached the last hill betwee
n them and their goal. At the assigned leader’s signal, everyone drew in their mounts to prevent startling the herd before everyone was ready. They stretched out in two rows—long with the number of men and tivas present—with Cheyenne to the right and Hanueva to the left. Sharp arrows were nocked on strong bows. Horses pranced in eagerness and excitement, knowing what was about to occur from many seasons of training and participation. The two parties were filled with suspense and exhilaration. The signal was given, and the great event commenced as they raced over the last hill and charged the peaceful herd.
Hunters selected their first prey and focused on them, never singling out another until the previous one was defeated. The closest beasts stopped grazing and looked toward the riders. A rain of arrows was released. Slain animals thudded to the ground. Wounded ones bellowed in rage. Merciful hunters quickly sought to end the creatures’ suffering, as they were creations of and gifts from their Great Spirit. The Indians would not slay more than needed for food and clothing and other necessities, as waste and sport were against their beliefs. Only males and motherless females were selected, as the herd must be able to reproduce in—and for—future seasons.
The hunters of both tribes were skilled horsemen and marksmen. They knew where the vital sites were located and aimed for them. The early hunts were important because the animals had not shed their winter coats; the thick mantles around their enormous shoulders would provide warm robes and long hairs for other needs. As they plunged into the herd, the beasts began to scatter and attempt escape. Riders took extra caution to avoid sharp horns and head battings which could injure horse and man.
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