by JR Green
Willow searched for a stone. Quickly finding one, she tossed it in. She smiled, but her eyes looked tired.
Something dawned on Mintikwa then. He couldn’t remember seeing her eat anything since she had joined him.
“When did you last eat?”
She shook her head. “I don’t recall,” she said.
“You aren’t eating, are you?” Mintikwa guessed.
Willow sighed. “It doesn’t feel right, with you starving,” she admitted.
“You know I’m not starving,” Mintikwa said. “Fasting is part of my seeking vision. But you not eating, that is starving.”
“But if I eat, it will just make things worse for you,” Willow argued.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mintikwa said. “You have to eat.”
Willow nodded. “Fine,” she said. She pulled a bag of ground maize from her pack.
Mintikwa couldn’t help but eye the food. His mouth watered.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Mintikwa said. “Just do me a favor and eat it over there.”
Willow laughed. “See, it is hard for you,” she said.
“It’s supposed to be,” he said.
Mintikwa walked ahead while Willow lagged behind to eat without making it worse for him.
They joined up again at the shelter.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “I feel better.”
Mintikwa could tell. The light was already back in her eyes.
“You do have my back after all,” she said.
Mintikwa knew she referred to what he said in anger after the ambush.
“Of course I do,” he said.
Lightning flashed overhead, and thunder quickly followed.
“That was close,” Willow said. They began gathering their things. A moment later, the rain came pouring down. It cleared the dust from the air and beat at the ground, stirring up the scent of the earth. They quickly tucked under the roof of their lean-to.
The air cooled.
Mintikwa had shed his shirt earlier. The air had still been warm, even at dusk. Relief came with the rainwater streaking over his shoulders and chest and down his back.
“It feels good,” Mintikwa said.
Willow nodded in agreement. She turned to him and smiled. They were close, forced together by the tight space of their shelter, nearer to each other than ever before. The sudden coolness of the air made their breath visible. The tips of Willow’s hair channeled the water away from the top of her head. A droplet traced the length of her nose and rippled over her lips. It rested at her chin, then fell to her neck.
“It does feel good,” Willow agreed. Her eyes momentarily locked with his, then they danced over his lips and back to his eyes before turning to settle on the rain outside.
Did she feel that too? He thought so, but he couldn’t say for sure.
Exhaustion soon overwhelmed him. He wrapped his shirt around his shoulders and lay back, relieving his tired arms and legs. Willow pressed up beside him. She sighed contentedly. The heat of their bodies was just enough to ward off the chilly rain outside.
Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed. Sheets of shimmering silver came tumbling down from the heavens in a resounding roar. The earth soaked it in. The river swelled. The two slept.
Mintikwa had seen seventeen years. He learned how to fight from an early age. All people did, with the Soulless an ever-present threat. But Willow knew so much more. She could easily beat him in a fight. She was, after all, the daughter of the warrior chief and spent most of her time training in the art of fighting.
The moon rose above the treetops. Tree frogs and katydid sang from the heights.
“How did you take my knife?” Mintikwa asked, genuinely curious about her skill.
“I didn’t even know it happened,” he said.
“Here,” Willow said. “Let me show you.”
She moved in front of him. She tapped her shoulders. “Put your hands here.”
Mintikwa hesitated.
Her dark hair gleamed in the moonlight and fell over her sleek, muscular arms. Willow saw his hesitation. She reached up, gathered her hair together, and pulled it away from her neck.
“Go on,” she said.
Mintikwa touched the top of her shoulders with the tips of his fingers.
Her skin was smooth and warm.
“When you fell on me—” Willow began.
Mintikwa leaned in a little. “You mean when I ambushed you,” he corrected.
“When you fell on me!” Willow insisted, but she flashed him a smile. “I shifted. Like this,” she said, turning to her side. “Remember?”
“Kind of,” Mintikwa said.
“The first thing I saw was the bleached bone of your knife. I reached for it,” she said. “It was pure instinct.”
Mintikwa didn’t have a knife at the moment, so Willow grabbed his hand, then she pulled him toward her. “Your knife was here.” She tugged on his hand, which was pressed between them at his chest.
“We went down like this.” She fell backward, and they went down to the ground. The duff blanking the forest floor padded their fall. The pungent scent of the earth struck him.
He was on top of her again, but this time, he could clearly see her face rather than a cloaked form.
“Then what did you do?” he asked, slightly tugging at her fingers which enclosed his.
“I took it from you,” she said.
“How?”
“You were distracted,” Willow said. “I took it right out of your hand.” She pretended she held his knife and yanked her hand down sharply to her waist. Mintikwa teetered over her. Their cheeks touched, suddenly.
“Sorry,” he said, laughing at his awkwardness. “Should I get off now?” he asked, waiting to see what else she might have to say about stealing knives.
Willow shook her head.
Her lips drew him in. They trembled as her breath passed over his neck. Her heartbeat quickened against his chest.
She arched her back, her chin shot up, and her lips parted. They pressed into his, and she kissed him hard.
She had crossed his mind like this from time to time in recent years, but the thought of her was subdued enough that he could push the images away. Now she was in front of him and in his head and in everything he perceived. Her voice spoke of the smooth surface of the river as it rested above deep pools. Her laughter echoed against the hillsides as the insects trilled at dusk. The scent of her skin mingled with the upturned earth near the base of the oak at his back. At night, as he drifted in and out of sleep, her dark eyes watched him from the heavens among the stars. Struggling against the current with his paddle in hand, the tension of her muscles at the small of her back stood poised in his mind. As he drank from his water vessel, the feel of her lips against his burst and scattered in his mind and filled his chest with a cool, tingling feeling.
This must be a dream, he thought, her being here with him all day and all night. The presence of Willow, her body so close all the time, the curve of her hips, the sheen of her legs, was enough to send him over the edge. Mintikwa put his face in his hands and rubbed his cheeks vigorously. He had to shake away these feelings.
“Your father is going to kill me,” he said.
“He’s not,” Willow implored. “Why do you say that?”
Mintikwa stood. He felt dizzy and staggered. Willow put a hand at his back to steady him. “You okay?”
Mintikwa nodded. “Still getting used to not eating.”
Willow laughed. “That’s not something you should ever get used to.”
“Why did you stop coming to the river?” he asked.
“My father stopped me,” Willow said. “He didn’t want me going anymore.”
“It was me, wasn’t it?”
Willow turned away, reluctant to say.
Mintikwa took that as a yes. “I thought so,” he said. “But why?”
“It wasn’t exactly you,” she said. “It was circumstances. I was to become a
warrior. And there was that thing with your family.” Willow paused and glanced at Mintikwa, hoping the comment hadn’t cut too deeply.
“The Great-horned Owl line,” he said. “And what happened at Sugar Maple Tree Creek. They wanted to end the war with the Soulless and make peace.”
Willow nodded. “Something that my father would never have accepted. No one would accept. It was wrong to suggest it. You know that, don’t you?”
CHAPTER FIVE
MINTIKWA AND WILLOW left the woods, laughing as they splashed on their way back to the canoe.
When the canoe was in sight, they found Sharp Knife standing next to it with arms crossed and frowning. Another warrior stood beside him.
“Sharp Knife?” Willow said, shock registering in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Sharp Knife said.
“What about the scouting to the south?”
“Postponed,” Sharp Knife said.
“Why?” she asked, but her voice betrayed a suspicion that her absence had something to do with it.
“You’re father won’t go until he knows you’re safe.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Willow said. “I’m a big girl.”
“You’re beyond the northern boundary,” Sharp Knife pointed out.
“My vision seeking is taking me north,” Mintikwa interjected.
Sharp Knife shot him a contemptuous look.
“Crying Wolf,” he said, addressed his warrior friend and ignoring Mintikwa. “It’s been countless generations since our people have practiced the art of seeking vision in the wilds. But last I knew, it was a solitary endeavor. Am I mistaken? Has the sacred rite of our fathers suddenly changed despite the countless generations of tradition in the fifth age?”
Crying Wolf eyed Mintikwa cruelly. He shook his head. “You are not mistaken, my brother,” he said. “Those who seek a vision must do so alone.”
“Willow,” Sharp Knife said, raising his hands in disbelief. “What gives?”
“You know Soulless were seen here,” she said flatly, unimpressed with the ironic attitude he was assuming.
Sharp Knife’s gaze remained level. He didn’t seem impressed with her reasoning as to why she had lingered so long with Mintikwa. She looked away, and then her eyes reflexively met Mintikwa’s. She grew fearful that the situation was teetering toward her, leaving him. Her heart reached out to his. Then they both looked at Sharp Knife.
Realization settled upon the warrior’s face.
He turned to Mintikwa. “Have you two bonded?” he asked, confounded, a contained rage now evident in his voice.
“No!” Willow exclaimed, trying to sandbag the conversation.
Sharp Knife looked at Mintikwa, questioning him with silence.
Wide-eyed, Mintikwa shook his head. “No,” he said, fearing the implications. “Of course not.”
“Dragging me home isn’t happening,” Willow assured him.
Sharp Knife shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can’t imagine that working. But I can imagine how well your father will receive me if I come home empty-handed,” Sharp Knife said. “I’m sure you can too.”
She cast her eyes downward. Willow apparently saw his point but was afraid of what it meant.
“You really leave me no choice,” he said.
Crying Wolf eased up next to Mintikwa. Another warrior appeared from the woods. He had been listening to them the whole time. When he reached the sand, he stopped and crossed his arms, dashing any hopes they had for making a run for it.
“So unless you come with me,” Sharp Knife said. “Things are going to get really bad for your friend here.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Willow said, shock evident in her voice.
“Watch me,” Sharp Knife challenged.
Willow stood defiantly.
Sharp Knife gave only the slightest of signals, and Crying Wolf was in motion, spinning and descending sharply toward the ground. The back of his fist struck Mintikwa in the stomach with force made potent by the spiral motion. Mintikwa made a terrible sound full of pain. He doubled over.
“Stop!” Willow shouted. She ran to Mintikwa and eased him down to the sand. She turned on Sharp Knife. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”
“Excellent,” Sharp Knife said, clapping his hands. “I love it when folks can come to a quick agreement.”
She turned back to Mintikwa. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is my fault. I should have let you alone.”
Mintikwa shook his head. “Not at all,” he said, fighting against the pain. “I was happy to see you.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“This?” he said, indicating his stomach. “This is nothing. You go. I’ll tell you all about my adventure later.”
Willow stood and turned away from Mintikwa. As she passed Crying Wolf, with the heel of her foot, she stomped on his. He doubled over, gripping his toes. She walked to Sharp Knife. He cringed, not wishing to likewise feel the brunt of her scorn.
“What?” he said. “Willow? What choice did I have?”
“Oh,” she assured him. “You’re going to pay for that.” She passed him and started jogging down the strip of sand that stretched along the river. She didn’t look back.
Dusk had passed, but they were squeezing the last bit of usefulness from the remaining light. Sharp Knife led them. Willow followed. They reached the base of a hill and started up the embankment. Suddenly Sharp Knife stopped. He held up a hand in silence. Long moments passed. The forest was as still as a stone. Sharp Knife moved again, but now his footsteps made no sound.
He returned shortly.
“There is a camp,” Sharp Knife said, though his voice was only the slightest of whispers.
The four of them crept up the hill and down into the shadows of the ravine.
Just below the cliff on the other side, a fire smoldered. Empty mussel shells littered the camp.
“The Dark Ones were here,” Crying Wolf said. “But they are long gone.”
Willow looked furious. “Now tell me that my concern over the Soulless is unfounded,” she demanded of Sharp Knife.
The following day, Willow was gone. There was no trace of her, not the faintest sign of a footprint, broken twig, or a disturbed leaf or branch.
Crying Wolf returned from the riverbank.
“Anything?” Sharp Knife asked.
“Nothing,” Crying Wolf said. “It’s like she vanished into thin air.”
Sharp Knife shook his head but couldn’t help his smile. “She’s good,” he said. “And yet her father worries over her like she’s a child.”
“What are you going to do?”
A figure emerged from the woods and stepped onto the beach. For a moment, Mintikwa had no idea who it was. He thought of the ghosts of Eddytown, and a chill crept up his spine. The figure waved, and then relief washed over him. He recognized who it was, after all.
“Willow!” Mintikwa shouted, laughing. He steered his canoe to the shore. When he reached the sand, he jumped out and pulled the boat in.
“I’m so glad to see you safe,” Willow said, reaching for Mintikwa and hugging him tightly. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
“Why so worried about me?” Mintikwa asked. “What happened?”
“We found a camp of the Soulless,” she said. “But they were gone.”
“How did you get away from Sharp Knife?” Mintikwa asked.
“I had to wait until after dark,” she said. “I left while they were all sleeping.”
“You are talented,” he said. “Do you think they followed you?”
“Maybe,” she said, instinctively looking downriver. “But I put quite a bit of distance between us. Anyway, let’s get back on the water. Perhaps we can trick them into thinking you went inland.”
Willow helped Mintikwa launch the canoe. They both jumped in and headed north. Mintikwa dug deeply at the water. Once they had several bends of the river behind them, they began to relax again.
I
t was dusk and time to make camp. They pulled the canoe out of the water and set it carefully in the grass while they brushed their tracks from the sand. Satisfied, Mintikwa stepped into the grass to wait for Willow. She finished concealing her footprints and turned to Mintikwa.
He smiled. “I missed you,” he said.
She laughed. “I was only gone a day,” she said as she stepped lightly over the sand, careful not to make any more signs of their passing. She walked to Mintikwa, eyeing him with a smile.
“For years, we went without a word between us,” he said, a little sad. “Now, I don’t want to go a day without hearing your voice. And your laughter.”
She stepped close to him, her head low, her smile seductive. Then she met his eyes and put a hand against his chest.
“Me either,” she said. “We’re good together. We can’t let them keep us apart anymore.”
Mintikwa touched the small of her back with the palm of his hand and then drew her close. He kissed her, their lips lingering, parting and then pressing together again. For the next few moments, he was immersed in the fullness of her lips, but then Willow finally pulled away.
“We’d better get off the river,” she said.
They planned to make camp far off the river tonight so that they couldn’t be found by Sharp Knife and his friends.
They picked up the canoe and carried it deep into the woods, taking their time, stepping lightly, and making sure the boat left no signs of its passing.
They found a nice flat patch of ground nestled at the base of a knoll. It was a good spot for a camp. They backed the canoe against the hill, out of sight, and then sat down to rest.
“You should eat something,” Mintikwa said.
Willow shook her head. “I have my rations,” she said.
