The Warrior's Captive Bride. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ His condition would be raised at tribal council and then known by all.

      “I see.”

      “And understand why I have not yet taken her to my lodge?”

      She nodded.

      He liked that he did not have to explain everything to her.

      “Beyond that, I cannot hunt for her or protect her.” His eyes lingered on Skylark. “No woman wants a man who cannot ride.”

      Except perhaps a woman who did not sew? They were a strange pair, she thought. She almost said that aloud and then quickly reminded herself that he would not marry while he was ill and if she managed to cure him, he would marry Beautiful Meadow. She needed to cease her folly and get back to her people as soon as she could.

      Storm growled and lifted a stick, preparing to throw it into the water. But his dog placed his mouth over it and Storm let go. Frost sank to the ground and began gnawing on the branch.

      “Is that all?” he asked.

      Her gaze shot to him. She had promised to try to help him and instead she had become consumed with her own wants, needs and burdens.

      “No. Not all. If your falling sickness is from a ghost or curse, then your children would not be affected. If you are ill, we will find a cure.”

      “I hope so. Because becoming a burden, it would be worse than death.”

      The responsibility she had taken now weighed upon her. Why had she thought by leaving her tribe for a few days she would be free? Free from the burden of chasing after her father, free of the curious stares of the men and the pitying glances of the friends who had found good husbands. But this new burden was heavy, indeed.

      “What other questions do you have?” he asked.

      “Have you had visions?”

      He scrubbed his face with his hands as if washing. Then he blew out a breath to the sky.

      “How did you know this?”

      She shrugged. “A feeling I had. And falling is like sleeping, dreaming. Many visions come with dreams.”

      “Yes, they do. I will tell you something else that I have shared with no one. During the time of my vision quest, I had strange dreams.”

      “That is not unusual, I think.”

      Much of the process of becoming a man was kept a very carefully guarded secret, just as the entry process of becoming a woman was held from the men. But she had heard this and that. She knew, for example, that when their mentors deemed them ready, a boy left the tribe with his mentor, went into the forest and stayed there. Many days later the boy would return, gaunt and changed in ways that frightened her. The candidate left as a boy and returned as a man. The tribes’ celebration for these new members was jubilant, as was the welcoming for women who were of marriageable age.

      She was well past her womanhood and still the men of her tribe had done no more than steal a few kisses and bestow a few trinkets.

      Skylark focused on Storm. “I know little of the vision quest.”

      He nodded his understanding of this. “And I can tell you little, except to say that my name must come from what I saw and I saw many things. Terrible things. I was told to choose my name from the visions or from the first creature I saw upon waking. I did not do as I was told. Do you think this could have brought this sickness?”

      “Possibly. Why did you not do as you were instructed?”

      He made a face.

      “It was night when I became aware. But it was not storming. And the first creature I saw was the same one that came to me in my visions. They came again and again. They still come. Follow me in dreams and while awaking. I thought it called me to be fearless in battle and to take many enemy lives. Now I do not know what they want from me.”

      “But you should use this creature for your name. Is that right?”

      His expression turned grim.

      She cocked her head, the unease growing at his silence. She swallowed back her trepidation. What could possibly be so terrible?

      “What animal?” she asked, the dread creeping into her with the evening chill.

      “A white owl.”

      She could not contain the shout of fear as she threw her hands across her chest. Her skin went cold as she stared in shock at this man.

      It was the worst of all possible omens.

      * * *

      Storm placed a hand over his forehead and kept it there as he spoke, the horror of his disclosure clear in his voice. “I saw many strange things, but the animal I saw again and again was the owl.”

      She could not find her voice and so spoke in a whisper. “Death. Your death or the death of those you love.”

      “Or the death of enemies in battle. I saw the owl in visions and dreams and upon waking. A white snowy owl in the summer time. A horned owl perching over my head and the sound of screech owls during the night.”

      “Perhaps...” Her mouth was so dry from the fear that she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Owls are messengers. They bring word of impending death, that is true. But perhaps...” She was reaching for some glimmer of hope. “Perhaps... Perhaps they only foretold of this time. If this is spiritual, then you are called to interpret this message. A message from the world of the dead.”

      “Instead, I have hidden it from all but you.”

      She could understand why.

      “I knew that they called me to something. I assumed they called me to battle my enemies. I rode into all battles expecting to send many ghosts to the spirit road.”

      Or to die, she thought. She shivered at the thought. Had it not occurred to him that the owls called him to his own death?

      “My name should be chosen from my visions, but I knew that my tribe would be afraid, if I called myself White Owl or Shrieking Owl or Evening Owl. So I chose Night Storm, for the storm that finally quieted the owls.”

      “This is a terrible omen.”

      “Yes. I am linked to death. I just do not know how.”

      “Do you see the dead?”

      “No.”

      “Do you think the owls were the spirits of the dead?”

      “I do not know.” He turned his head and looked at her, his brow furrowed. He seemed to be puzzling something out.

      “What?” she asked.

      “Why are you still here?”

      Now she was the one who was confused. “You asked my help. Don’t you remember?” Was his mind worse than she supposed?

      “Of СКАЧАТЬ