Running Wolf. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ most feared. Morality was highly prized by her people, except among captives. Their feelings were not considered. That was how it had always been.

      Now she was experiencing the opposite side.

      She remembered that some of the captives had earned a place. Some had even married into her tribe. She thought of Running Wolf and was horrified at the line of her reasoning. She was the daughter of a chief, the sister of a brave warrior. They would rescue her.

      Her head dipped as she realized that even if they did bring her home, all among her people would assume she had been soiled by the Sioux.

      The woman spoke again. “You will not last long if you don’t gain one or more protectors.”

      “I can protect myself.”

      The woman laughed.

      “Well, Little Warrior, what about your clothes? How do you plan to earn them?”

      “Earn them?”

      “Frog went naked for over a moon. They give all of us names. I was called Mourning Dove by my people, but here am called Mouse. They named her Frog for her croaking. There were two of them then, Frog and Fish. Nothing Frog did earned her a scrap. She was old and no one wanted her. Still, she begged to come into each tepee until she found one man who let her in—Turtle Rattler, the shaman. She keeps his fire and says he does not touch her. Fish walked into the snow and died. I did not beg, but neither did I walk into the snow. I took another road and decided that I would have meat and I would have clothing and I would have a tepee of my own. I did what I had to do to earn these things.”

      Mouse glared at Raven, daring her to say something. Raven knew what Mouse meant. She was a common woman, used by any who wished to spend time with her. The young men in her tribe had such a female, but some widowers and married men also went to her lodge. Raven did not judge Mouse, for she knew she might suffer the same fate. When one was starving and freezing it was hard to say what one would do. Would she choose to stay alive, like Mouse, or die, like Fish?

      “I have set snares to catch rabbits.” Raven motioned toward the prairie.

      This earned another smile from the woman. “They will take the meat and the pelts. But there is no harm in trying. How is it that you know how to do such things?”

      “My father...” Again Raven nearly said her father’s name. “My father and my brother taught me to hunt and ride.”

      “Really? You can hunt?”

      Raven nodded, not wishing to appear boastful.

      “Can you track game?”

      “Of course.”

      “Shoot a bow, use a lance?”

      Raven did not like the way this conversation had turned.

      “Can you read the land and find water?”

      “I have done these things,” she offered, “but not on the prairie.”

      The woman was now glowing.

      “There are others, six now that you have come.” Mouse paused and her gaze dropped with her expression. “Some have been here two winters. Some four. I have been here four. Little Deer nearly froze to death last winter because she was too young to be a common woman. Little Deer has not yet broken her link with the moon. When she does, they will take her to our lodge.”

      Four years? Had Raven heard that right? In all that time had no one come for her? Raven felt a little piece of herself die. What if her brother and father could not find her? There were so many tribes of Sioux. Was she like a rock on the prairie, impossible to see unless you stumbled over it?

      “I am of the Center Camp Crow, the Shallow Water tribe,” said Mouse.

      “I am Snow Raven. I am of the...” But before she could speak, Mouse cut her off.

      “Also Center Camp Crow, but from the Low River tribe. Your father is Six Elks.”

      Raven’s stomach dropped. Somehow this woman knew her. She could tell the Sioux. Perhaps such information could be valuable. Mouse could trade it for a blanket or food.

      “No. I am not.”

      “I met your mother at one of the gatherings. I danced with her. I ate with your grandmother, Tender Rain, and listened to your grandfather, Winter Goose, tell stories of the Spirit World. He is your shaman.”

      That had been before he and her mother’s mother died of the spotting sickness with so many others. The trappers had come and then the traders and then the many sicknesses. But the spotting sickness was the worst. It was why her father had said they must go. Leave the home they’d had since the beginning of all things.

      Raven shook her head. “No, you’ve made a mistake.”

      Mouse lifted a fist to her hip. “Why do you say this? You know who you are. I know who you are.”

      In desperation, Raven told the truth. “But no one must know. Don’t you see? My only hope is to remain like any Crow captive. If they know, they could kill me or use me to hurt my family.”

      “Or trade you and the other captives for some of their own.”

      “No. I can’t take that chance.”

      The corners of Mouse’s mouth continued to sink. “You cannot take that chance? Are you the daughter of the chief of the Low River tribe or are you not? Are you the granddaughter of the greatest far-looking man our people have ever seen or are you not?”

      Her grandfather had been a far-looking man, one with the gift of seeing things before they happened. Snow Raven would give anything for that gift right now. Would she live to taste freedom again? Would this woman use her knowledge to dash any chance she had of survival?

      “I used to be those things. But now I am just a captive. My life is no longer my own.”

      “But you still long for freedom. We all do. You could lead us. It is in your blood to lead.”

      Raven lowered her head, knowing what would happen if she tried. The risk was too great. “If we go, I will lead you to your deaths.”

      “Winter is coming,” said Mouse. “Little Deer will not have enough to eat.”

      Raven stared at Mouse. “What did she eat the past two winters?”

      “Last winter was mild. The one before she stayed with me when I had no men. But this one will be hard and the men will want a woman on cold nights. If she is in my lodge they will take her, too. Snake has a baby. When her milk stops, he will die like the last one.”

      Raven pressed her lips tight together against the urge to act. None of this was her fault. It was not her place to intervene. But was it her duty?

      Mouse’s face went hard as she stared at Raven. “You ride. I saw you arrive seated on a horse. We can steal horses and you can lead us home.”

      “They will catch us and kill us. We must wait for rescue from my father.”

      “Wait? СКАЧАТЬ