Running Wolf. Jenna Kernan

if he had survived.

      She moved along, the ache in her muscles now reaching her heart. He had killed four in the next battle and stolen three horses. According to the next drawing he had captured seven eagles in a single hunt and also trapped and killed a wolf. Had that been that his vision quest?

      Near the top by the smoke flaps appeared a wolf again. She knew how difficult a wolf was to fool, and this feat truly impressed. But all served to remind her that he was a formidable enemy, one she could not trust and in whom she would find no pity. If she where to survive until she was rescued she must be wise and cautious.

      Her father would come for her. He would find her. But for the Crow to come out onto this prairie, so far from the protection of the other tribes, was dangerous.

      What would her father do?

      He must find help among the other Center Camp tribes, she realized.

      She might be here a long while. So she must be careful that none here discovered that she was the daughter of Six Elks. If she could only survive until her father came, she would be rescued. Then she could return again to her life as it had always been and would be again.

      “You see that my son is the most skilled of hunters. He brings me more furs than I know what to do with. And he has killed many of the evil Crow who try to invade our hunting grounds.” She studied the paintings for a moment longer, and her voice grew sharp. “Enough dawdling. We have a feast to prepare and you have fuel to carry.”

      On the plains, there were no trees, so the people used the dried buffalo droppings for fuel. Raven wondered if the women expected her to carry buffalo chips in the nude without moccasins. The answer, she discovered, was yes. When Raven asked if she might have a bit of buckskin to cover herself, the woman laughed.

      “You must earn your keep here. If you do as you are told, I will feed you. If you wish a buckskin, perhaps you should kill a buck.”

      Raven did not ask for a bow and arrow to do just that.

      Ebbing Water gave her a basket and told her not to come back until it was full. On her first journey past the ring of tepees, Snow Raven paused to see if anyone was watching her and found she was alone. Was this some test? A trial to see if she was stupid enough to run with no weapons and no garments to protect her? She knew she would freeze in the cold rains and starve on the long journey.

      That was, unless the wolves found her on foot.

      She hoisted the basket higher on her bare hip and turned to search for buffalo chips. It was more difficult to walk barefooted through the grass than she had imagined, and it took some time to fill the basket.

      As she walked, she braided the tall grasses into a fine rope. When it was long enough, she looked for animal trails through the grass and set her first snare. Before she returned to the camp she set six more. It seemed from the trails she saw that the jackrabbits were plentiful here.

      When she stood from laying the final snare it was to find Running Wolf standing within ten paces of her. She gasped with surprise. No one ever crept up on her before. Had she damaged her hearing in the beating?

      Her arms went up to cover her breasts and then she stopped herself. Captives had no shame, and she was not embarrassed of her body. Let him see the bruises and cuts.

      “What are you doing?” he asked.

      “Your mother would not give me a buckskin. She said if I wanted a hide, I must get my own. So I am.” She motioned to the snare, carefully staked and set to encircle the neck of any rodent foolish enough to use this path.

      He stepped nearer and stooped to examine her work. “Well laid.”

      He stood close now and her skin began to prickle, as it sometimes did when the thunderbirds charged the air.

      Raven reclaimed her basket and held it between them. He turned to go and she headed after him, walking slowly enough so as not to appear to be following. She did not know if another beating awaited her upon her return. And she didn’t know if Running Wolf would prevent one. He had not intervened in the first, so she was doubtful his proximity would help her.

      Still, she felt safer with him than alone.

      She considered her options. To stay unnoticed she must be submissive and not draw attention. That meant taking any beating.

      It went against her very nature.

      She was a fighter, and a good one, too. Could she even manage to restrain herself if they came at her again? It had been hard to let them drag her from her horse. It had been hard to curl up like an infant and allow the feet to kick and the hands to claw. But she had done it.

      He turned to her before they entered the circle of lodges.

      “Stay well behind me. But call out if you need me.”

      She waited while he moved well ahead of her, anxious to let him go but relieved he would be close enough to come if she needed him.

      It was near sunset, and when he reached the first lodge his skin glowed golden in the failing light. Running Wolf disappeared as he crossed into the circle of tepees. She paused to get her bearings and recall where to find his home. She met two women who laughed and called her Buffalo Chips. She ignored them and continued toward Running Wolf’s tepee.

      Before she reached the lodge, Raven felt someone watching her. She looked about and found who spied on her, thinking it would be Running Wolf again, but instead she found a woman and instantly recognized her as another captive.

      She wore a dress that was too short to be proper, a dress that held no elk teeth or quillwork or beading with not even the simplest of fringes across the seam. Beyond this, the dress was patched and ill fitting. Her legs were as dirty as Snow Raven’s and her feet were also bare.

      She stared at Raven with a hollow expression of one pushed past her limit. Yet still there was a flicker of life behind the dead expression. The woman’s mouth turned down at the corners as she looked at Raven. Bringing a new captive to a tribe could upset the order among the other captives. Raven wanted no trouble. She desired only to remain anonymous and to survive long enough to be rescued.

      The woman strode forward and spoke to her in perfect Crow without the accent of the Sioux.

      “So they have taken everything from you, too.”

      “Not everything,” said Raven.

      The woman’s brow quirked in a silent question.

      “I still have my life.”

      That made the woman smile and nod her approval, as if Raven had passed some sort of test.

      “Yes, if you can keep it. You are too pretty and the men will be after you.”

      The loss of her virtue was what Raven 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