Chapter 3 #2
Maybe that was his undoing. The grin. It was said that there were people whose faces glowed when they smiled, as though lit from within with magic.
She might be such a one, for when Red Hawk looked into her eyes, he thought that surely he had eaten something bad this day. His innards were awash in butterflies.
“Well, no matter who you are,” said the girl after a while, “would you like to swim with me?” She bestowed upon him yet another of those beguiling grins.
He froze, gaping. He knew of nothing else to do but stare at her.
When he didn’t respond to her question at once, she made hand motions at him, giving him to understand that she was about to fly into the air…or at least that was what he thought she said.
Was she a goddess, then?
He frowned at her, and she giggled, and with a single hand motion, she invited him to join her. Then, as quick as all that, she slipped into the water.
Was he to follow? Was she a water being after all?
Blackfeet legends told of such beings. There were said to be nymphs, sometimes monsters, who were sent from the water’s depths only to lure a man to his death.
Perhaps she was such a one. Mayhap he should use caution.
Red Hawk, however, ignored any prudence. He was curious about her because she was…different. Besides, though he was only twelve winters old, at this moment he felt very much the male of the species.
With nary a thought for personal danger, he followed the girl into the water. If she were a siren leading him to his death, why would some men fear it?
But she wasn’t about death, he soon came to understand. She was about playing…and fun. And there was no great need to translate languages when the object of the game was to decide who was “it.”
“Catch me,” she said, as she tagged him with the slightest brush of her hand. She dove underwater, then he followed her, letting her take the lead.
She is not a fish, he saw at last, as he opened his eyes underwater. Nor is she a siren, or a goddess.
She swam by use of hands and legs, not fins. What he had thought might have been scales from her waist down were nothing more than the ugliest sort of leggings he had ever seen.
Why would a girl swim in such things? And with her footgear still on? He was dressed only in his breechcloth.
Catching up with her, he tagged her.
Still underwater, she spun around, and though they were both beneath the surface, she smiled at him. Then, as quick as that, she lunged toward him, her arm extended.
He backed up, but his heart wasn’t into retreating from her, and he let her touch him. Her hand was soft, delicate, and he was pondering the experience, when all at once she struck out, away from him.
They both surfaced.
“I am the better swimmer of the two of us,” she taunted him, before she giggled. Though Red Hawk couldn’t discern the words, her meaning was clear. She was playing to win.
He realized his mistake at once. If he were to earn her respect, he would have to prevail in this game. However, he was wise enough to realize that he best not shove defeat at her too soon. Saa, he would need to win this game with her blessing and goodwill. Not an easy feat for a boy of twelve.
“Kika, wait,” he called out in the Blackfeet tongue. “Poohsapoot, come here! Let us define this game.”
She paid him no heed, and not because she didn’t understand him, language barrier or not.
He followed her, tagged her, but he didn’t at once retreat. Instead, opening his arms, he invited her to touch him back. To this end, he swam around her, leaping to and fro, but always at her arm’s length.
Tentatively, doubtfully, she reached out toward him. She had almost grazed him again when he extended his hands toward her instead. He tickled her.
“No fair.” She laughed, doubling up. “Your arms are longer than mine. Now, no tickling.”
He didn’t understand her words, though he was fairly certain he comprehended exactly what she wanted. Grinning at her, he repeated the action.
“No!” she said, and there was no mistaking the intent of that word. He wasn’t about to end the game, however, not yet, and so he danced around her once again, his arms wide open and tempting her to make him “it.”
“What are you doing?” Her gaze followed him as he swam easily around her.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged at one of her curls.
“Stop that,” she ordered sharply. Nonetheless, she was giggling.
He repeated the action.
“Oh, this is not fair. You are bigger than I am and your arms are longer.” She leaped toward him suddenly. He backed away, just in time, his arms still open as he tread water, offering her a clear target.
She laughed, and he joined in with her.
And so it was that the morning hours wore on. Back and forth they played, Red Hawk allowing the beautiful water spirit to win the game of tag. But never more than he.
“Oh, you are too much for me.” She smiled up at him.
“Unfortunately, I must pronounce you the winner, though I think you have a terrible advantage over me.” As if to compensate for the inequality, she reached down in the water and pulled off each of her shoes in turn.
“Why did I not think of this before now? These awful pantalettes I am wearing get in my way and my boots drag me down, while you have only your breechcloth to restrict you. No wonder you are able to taunt me.”
Taking aim, she threw first one boot at the shoreline, and then the other.
Her hurl wasn’t accurate, and one by one, each shoe fell short of the shore, plopping into the water, the hard leather causing them to sink swiftly.
At once gallant, Red Hawk propelled himself forward, capturing one shoe, then the other.
She followed, wading right up to him, where she extended her hand, asking for the boots. Slowly he presented the shoes to their owner, his hand lingering over the last boot before dropping his arm to his side.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. Smiling, she held her shoes against her breast and pointed to herself. “Effie. Can you say that? Effie.” Again she indicated herself.
“Eh-h-h—eee,” he repeated.
She nodded. “Close enough. And you are?” She pointed toward him.
Words and gestures aside, he knew instinctively what she asked, but it was beyond his means to tell her what she desired.
Somewhat alarmed—for an Indian would never ask another his name—Red Hawk tried to justify her action.
She was not from here, he decided. She might not know the protocols of his polite society.