Running Wolf. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ of your village. Is that true?”

      Raven lowered her head. “Yes.”

      “So I ask you, without horses, how will they hunt buffalo? And how will they come for you?”

      Without horses, they would be wiped out. Suddenly Raven did not want her father to come for her. The cold dread of certainty took hold of her like an icy wind. Her father must look to his people’s survival. He could not waste precious time searching for her.

      Mouse waited for an answer. “If he comes on foot, they will kill him.”

      For the first time she understood, truly understood what she faced.

      “He would be a fool to come, and Six Elks is no fool,” said Mouse.

      Even as she recognized the depth of this cold reality, Raven could not relinquish hope. “He will come.”

      Mouse snorted. “Do you know that I have a husband and a son? My husband is handsome and kind and loved me very well. Four times seasons have turned, but he has not come for me. Now I still tell myself that he will come, but I fear he has found another. We had a son, Otter. He was four when they took me. If I do not return home to my boy soon, will he even know his mother? I dream of them in my sleep. I think of them when I wake. They are what has kept me alive.”

      Raven understood now what she had not before. If she was to find rescue, she must find it herself. Something else crept into her thoughts and she straightened.

      “How is your husband called?” asked Raven.

      “Three Blankets.”

      Raven stilled at the name.

      Mouse continued on, not noticing Raven’s shock. “Oh, he is very brave. He had his first eagle feather for slitting an enemy’s throat when he was only sixteen winters old.”

      Raven’s hands had gone still, for she knew that Mouse’s son had fallen through ice in the river. Raven had been there in the winter camp when his body was brought back to the village.

      The following spring, Mouse’s husband had been killed on a raid led by Far Thunder, the chief of the Shallow Water tribe. She knew because many of her tribe had gone with them, including her brother. They had told of Three Blankets’s brave death and sang at his funeral platform.

      Raven opened her mouth to speak but Mouse was talking again.

      “Without them, I would have died so many times. They have kept me alive, my husband and my son.”

      Raven closed her mouth tight.

      “I worry that if he learns what I have done to stay alive, he might not want me. But then I worry about hiding the truth from him. What would you do?”

      Mouse looked up at Raven, waiting for her reply. Raven held her tongue as dread made her skin prickle.

      “What?” asked Mouse.

      “I...I am...” She pressed a hand over her mouth and tried to think what to say.

      Mouse’s eyes narrowed and she closed in. “What do you know of my husband? Has he taken another wife?”

      “No.”

      “Then, why do you look so guilty?” Mouse grasped Raven’s shoulders and gave a little shake. Raven met her gaze. The scowl disappeared. She released Raven and stepped back, now protecting herself from the news by folding her arms before her.

      Mouse’s eyes went wide and her face went chalky white as if she already knew. Her next words confirmed Raven’s fears. “What has happened to him?” Her fingers clawed into her hair, holding a fist at each temple. “To my husband. To my son.”

      Mouse swayed as if the energy to shout had stolen the last of her strength. She placed a hand on the riverbank.

      Raven sank down beside her and spoke in a rush, racing to finish as Mouse blinked up at her. She spoke of the raid and the victory and the losses. How her husband was killed in the raid of the Shallow Water tribe and her son in the icy water.

      “I am sorry. They are both gone,” said Raven.

      Tears streamed down Mouse’s face and then she threw herself to the ground, curling into a ball. Her cry of agony was terrible to hear.

      Raven stayed with her, but she worried that they would be missed and that would make it harder to leave the camp. When Mouse had no more voice to cry she folded into Raven’s arms.

      “I have no one now. My sister and mother walked the Way of Souls before me. They died in the spotted sickness winter, the same winter that took your mother from you. My mother-in-law hates me.”

      “She’s still alive.”

      “Moon Rise is a good swimmer. Why did she not save my son?”

      “I do not know. I only remember hearing of your husband and son because I spoke to Moon Rise. She now has no son to hunt for her and must rely on the gifts of others.”

      Mouse stood woodenly and began to walk up the bank.

      “Where are you going?” asked Raven.

      “To the woman’s lodge. Perhaps I will never come out.”

      Raven stopped her with a hand. “I am still bringing you home.”

      Mouse snorted. “I have no home.”

      Raven watched her go and wondered if she had made a mistake. Should she have kept the deaths of Mouse’s family secret until they were safely back with the Crow?

      But what if they never reached them? Didn’t Mouse have the right to mourn and pray for her husband and son? Was it her decision to keep the truth from a wife and mother?

      Raven hurried back to Running Wolf’s tepee, hopeful that she might sit near the fire.

      When Raven reached the lodge, she was received with sharp words from Ebbing Water, who snatched the basket back and sent her to the river to wash the blood from her body. The water stung but she managed. As she was leaving the river, she ran into a group of women who’d come at their customary time to wash. They shouted at her that she could not use this place and must bathe downriver so they did not get the stink of the Crow on them.

      Raven hurried back to the tepee and found Running Wolf seated inside. His eyes followed her every movement as she returned to Ebbing Water.

      “Can you not cover her?” he asked his mother.

      “She must earn her clothing.”

      “Cover her while she is inside, then.”

      Ebbing Water gave Raven a blanket. The warm rough wool scratched her skin and made her cuts burn. But it took away the chill and soon she was not shivering. She smiled at Running Wolf, but before she could offer her thanks he rose and stalked out, leaving a half-finished bowl of stew beside him. She eyed his leavings eagerly as her stomach gave a loud gurgle. She’d had nothing to eat since Running Wolf gave her a strip of dried buffalo last night.

      “He СКАЧАТЬ