Chapter 3 #3
For one, a man never spoke his name aloud. Not only was it a taboo, it was also considered boastful, for names often told of great deeds.
Also, Red Hawk was reluctant to willingly utter the name that the others in the Clan called him. His name was Red Hawk, not Poor Orphan. Even if she wouldn’t understand the words, he could not bring himself to say them.
He gazed away from her, prompting her to try again. Pointing to him, she said, “And you are?”
This time Red Hawk shrugged, and turning away, presented her with his back as he swam toward the middle of the pond. There he waited, motioning her forward, asking her with signs to continue their game.
She shook her head. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name? After we have spent such a remarkable morning together? What am I to call you?”
Red Hawk feigned misunderstanding, saying nothing.
“Oh, very well,” she uttered, clearly exasperated. “It’s not very much to ask, though, is it? I’d just like to know what to say if I’m to address you. Will you be here tomorrow?”
Again, he remained silent, not understanding her words, though he did try to get her to join him once more in the center of the pool.
She shook her head. Spinning away from him, she began to wade closer to the shoreline.
“I can’t. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not because you won’t tell me your name or anything, but my parents might become concerned if I am gone too long.
Already I’ve been here a few hours, and so I must return to them.
I have enjoyed your company, though.” With a grin that was half apology, she turned to leave the water.
A feeling of loss swept over Red Hawk, and he swam toward her, following her. Coming up behind her, he touched her gently on the shoulder to get her attention, then taking hold of her hand, he guided it to his shoulder, where he allowed her to “tag” him.
Averting his gaze, Red Hawk started to draw back from her, but she held on to him tightly. Curious, his glance met hers, became lost in hers.
“I have enjoyed my morning swim with you,” she said earnestly, the honest appeal in her eyes intriguing.
At last, she let go of him, and reaching her hands up behind her neck, she unfastened the necklace she wore—one made of a gold-colored substance.
After placing the necklace in her small hand, she extended the jewelry toward him.
“Take it,” she said, when Red Hawk didn’t immediately stretch out his hand to capture it. “Take it,” she repeated, motioning toward it and then to him.
At length, he nodded and grasped hold of the prize.
“There,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
But he didn’t understand her meaning as the words were not easily discerned.
Looking down at himself, as he stood before her in only his breechcloth, he searched his body for a gift he might give her.
But what? There was little that he owned.
Time seemed short as he pondered the problem, and he had almost given up the idea altogether, when he remembered…his earrings. The white shell earrings he wore were of some value.
Once they had been his mother’s. Now they would be hers.
After unfastening them, he placed the two white shells in his palm and extended his hand toward her.
“For me?” she said, and he nodded.
Her tiny fingers slid over his palm as she drew near to take the prize. Red Hawk was amazed that a simple touch should make him feel as if he were suddenly falling through space.
“I don’t know why I should say this to you,” she said, “for I know that you cannot understand me—and perhaps that is why I feel I must say this—but I think I have fallen in love with you.” Her hand briefly clasped his.
And then it was over. She turned away and hurried off in a direction opposite to that of his camp. She was almost out of sight when she stopped still and spun back around.
Running toward him, she came right up to him and said, “I almost forgot.” Standing on the tips of her toes, she brought her face up to his, where she placed a kiss on his cheek. She giggled. “I hope to see you here tomorrow.” Flashing him one last grin, she fled.
She didn’t look back, and maybe it was good she hadn’t. For, in response to that kiss, slight though it was, Red Hawk had taken a few quick steps toward her as if to reciprocate, when suddenly he became so uncoordinated he tripped over himself.
Once again, the earth cushioned his fall. Once again, he lay flat on his fanny.
Though she had not spared Red Hawk a final glance, he watched her, looking at the place where she had disappeared for a long time, as though her impression still remained there.
“Otahkohsoa’ tsis, Red Hawk,” he said to the air, as if it might carry his words to her. “Red Hawk is my name.”
So distracted was he that he didn’t notice White Claw and the chief of the Yellow Shawl Band appear beside the stream and step toward him.
Luckily, so befuddled was Red Hawk that he didn’t hear the chief of the Yellow Shawl Band say, none too gently, “This is the chosen one?”
The elderly gentleman shook his head. “Oh,” continued the chief, “that we had another…”