Chapter 12 #2
Her look was guarded at first, but then she shook her head. “Very well. I have many questions I might ask about you, your life and the Lost Clan, as you might well understand. But first there is another matter that sits heavily on my mind.”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Truth be told,” she continued, “I never did answer your question as to marriage, and you have never inquired after it. Have you changed your mind?”
Her question, as well as the subject itself, was indeed delicate. It also had the effect of knocking the breath from him, but he kept the reaction to himself.
“I do not change my mind,” he said, dismayed to hear that his voice was unsteady. “I simply try to give you space to consider it, as well as some time away from me so as to decide the matter for yourself.” He paused. “Did you think I might have changed? That I would take back my offer?”
“Yes.” Her glance skimmed off of his. “You have been…distant from me since we started this journey.”
“I have much on my mind—it is my duty to lead and to protect us.” Again, he hesitated, then, “Did you have an answer for me?” He didn’t look at her. He dared not.
“Yes.” She reached out to touch his hand. “I…I am afraid…that I cannot marry you.”
He nodded without looking at her. It was as he had expected.
But then she added, “Now…”
“Now?”
“I need to find out more about you, about what you said about the Lost Clan, before I can… I was so startled by what you said,” she continued hurriedly, “and you left so quickly after, that I haven’t known what to think. So as you see, I have many questions.”
“Aa, I have had much to consider. But I am here now. If you have other concerns that trouble your thoughts, feel free to question me.”
She didn’t respond right away. In truth, she seemed to be carefully choosing her words, as now and again she sent him a tentative look.
Gazing at her now, with her fiery hair as well as her dress blowing softly about her, she presented such a beautiful picture, it was almost more than he could do to keep himself from staring at her like a lovesick buffalo calf.
Though she was on her knees picking several flowers, she now and again frowned at him, and he felt urged to smooth out those two wrinkles between her brows.
“Very well,” she acknowledged, sitting back. “My first question is about the Lost Clan.”
He nodded. “I thought you might have questions for me about this.”
“Yes. Well, what I’ve been trying to understand, and what I can’t quite comprehend is this: You said that you are of the Lost Clan?”
“Aa.”
“But how can this be so? They are a clan of legend, are they not?”
“’Tis so.”
Her frown grew deeper. “I still don’t understand. I am here to dig for evidence that they did at one time exist…but in the past. To say you are of that tribe would infer they are in the present, and not in the past…” Her voice trailed away.
He hesitated and considered her question solemnly. “I understand your confusion, and you are correct, the Lost Clan is a clan of legend. But it is also a clan the Creator blessed with a chance to end the curse.”
“Yes. That’s right. I had almost forgotten that part of the legend. Once a generation, a boy is chosen—”
“To take on real form,” he continued for her, “and to go out into the world in an attempt to end the curse for the Clan.”
“Real form? Then what you’re saying is that you were once entrapped in the mist?”
“Aa.”
“Excuse me, but I find what you are saying a bit hard to believe.”
He shrugged, looking away from her, and glanced back toward the ground. It was as he had thought. The truth was too bizarre to be accepted.
She continued to speak, however. “So what you are saying is that you are one of those boys who was chosen to try to end the curse?”
He grimaced. “Aa, it is so.”
“Hmmm…”
“And yet, no, I am not truly a chosen one.”
She shook her head. “Now I’m really confused.”
“Let me explain. The elders did not wish to choose me. It is as uncomplicated as that.”
“But if they didn’t want to—”
“They had no one else from whom to pick. The rest of the boys from my tribal band were injured.”
“Oh.”
“The day when we met, I was coming from the council where I had been named as champion for my band of the tribe.”
“Were you? How exciting. You must have been delighted.”
“No,” he said flatly. “Though I had long wished to be champion, knowing I was picked only because there was no one else was not the way in which I had dreamed of becoming our tribe’s defender.”
He noted that whether she believed him or not, she at least bestowed upon him a sympathetic look, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“You do not need to be. Regardless of how it was done, I am still the one who must break the curse for my people or live with the knowledge of my failure. You must realize I take this obligation seriously, if for no other reason than to make my grandfather proud.”
“And so you should. It is very commendable. I notice you speak of your grandfather often. You must love him dearly.”
“Aa, it is so. He adopted me when I was so young I do not remember it.”
“Adopted?”
“Aa, though I am of Blackfoot descent, the Lost Clan is not my tribe of birth. My parents, who were visiting the Clan at the time when the trouble began, were killed by the Thunderer. I would have been left homeless, were it not for Grandfather.”
“Your parents were killed by the Thunderer?”
“Aa, aa. In my youth, I often dreamed of revenging myself on the Thunder Being or the Thunderbird, as he is sometimes known, because I blamed him for all my troubles. But I have since grown up, and I have put those desires of vengeance away from me…or at least I have tried to. Now I only seek to free my people, my grandfather.”
“I see.” She drew her hand over the ground, as though trying to decide which flower to pick next. “But tell me, if all you say is so, why are you here with me now? Why aren’t you out somewhere trying to break the curse?”
“Because,” he said without even hesitating, “I am out somewhere trying to break the curse.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are somehow connected with the Clan.”
“Oh, am I?” She brightened suddenly. “I think I’m beginning to understand what this is all about. It’s the artifacts, isn’t it? Somehow, these artifacts I carry, and those I search for, are important to you. Am I right?” She looked to him hopefully.
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t and remain true to his vision, for a vision, if told to anyone other than a medicine man, was to render the prophecy powerless.
She gazed away from him, and all the while the reddish strands of hair that framed her face fluttered prettily in the wind. He wished he could take her in his arms, if only to make her believe him. But he knew if he wanted her to trust him, to really trust him, he dared not do it.
At last, she said, “I don’t know what to think, Mr. Hawk.
Your story is fantastic. Nevertheless, my father certainly believes in the legend, which is the only reason why I am here.
However, I have to admit that not only you, but this entire trip, is incredible, more like fantasy than real life.
Perhaps if we lived in a more mystical place and time, I might be more inclined to believe these stories. At present it is difficult.”
“Mystical? What do you mean by this word?”
She arched a brow at him. “Mystical means something to do with people or places or things that are not necessarily of the flesh—those instances of mystery, of magic perhaps.”