Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Red Hawk took pains to make her invisible to the environment because even at night, a scout must take no risks. So to this end, he had applied mud to her face, her clothes and every inch of her skin.
“It stings,” she complained softly, as she followed Red Hawk in an unchartered path across the prairie.
That they traveled beneath shrubs, crawling through and over prairie grass, using it as a cover when it was long enough; this, she would never have expected.
Had she thought about it, she would have reckoned they would have ridden horses. How wrong she was.
Apparently, scouts did not do their work mounted. Nor did they keep to well-known and useable trails.
“You will become accustomed to the sting of the mud.” His voice was low, barely audible.
“Will I? Somehow this seems almost impossible.”
“I cannot wash it off you. ’Tis your defense when you are entering a country you do not know well. You must blend into your environment.”
“Oh, very well. How much farther have we to go?”
He turned to face her. He, too, was a sight to behold.
He wore nothing more than breechcloth, leggings and moccasins.
Every other inch of his skin was covered in mud, with grass and twigs sticking out at random places.
His ever-present quiver full of arrows was strung over his back, and his bow was flung over his arm.
Bags hung around his neck and his shoulders.
His breast was wide, his arms were strong and those leggings fit him quite tightly.
His hair was in braids, two at the side of his face and one braided lock of hair straight down his back.
Though most Indian men of her acquaintance commonly wore an incredible amount of jewelry, there was little to be seen on this man except for her chain around his neck and a string of blue and white beads dangling from a lock of his hair.
Yet, odd or not, mud or not, the man exuded a provocative quality that was as stimulating as it was endearing.
Grinning at her, he said, “You remind me of a young child. Know that a good scout does not complain, for we have an entire night ahead of us.”
“Have you considered the fact that I am not a scout?”
“Saa, so you are not. Do you wish to rest here for a little while?”
“Yes.” She jumped at the chance. “I don’t think my knees will ever be the same again. I am glad the leather of these leggings is tough, for I fear that were I dressed in any of my own clothes, they would have given out long ago.”
“I am glad you appreciate them. Come.” He assumed once again a hands-and-knees position. “There is a stand of bushes next to the stream ahead of us.” He pointed. “Do you see them?”
“Yes.”
“We will go there. So far, I have not detected a sign of an enemy, but we must be certain. I will take you to the stream. There, you may relax, and I will scout the area around the place, to ensure it is safe enough to stay there.”
“Very well.”
It took only a few minutes to crawl to the bushes, which grew in a thick patch adjacent to the narrow shoreline of the stream. The two of them did literally crawl there, on arms and belly.
She said, “I don’t think I will ever take your duties for granted again, Mr. Hawk.”
He didn’t acknowledge this. “Wait here. Do not move, do not say anything, do nothing at all until I return. Do you understand?”
“May I breathe?”
He shot her an alluring grin, and then he was gone.
She scratched a particularly itchy part of her skin, wondering what she would look like on the morrow. Would she be red from the mud caked all over her? Would she have welts where the dry and unruly grasses had scratched her?
At least the mud acted as a sort of protection, which went a long way to shield her against many cuts and scrapes.
But dear Lord, her feminine persona was certainly taking a beating tonight.
With gook covering every inch of her, she probably looked more like a monster than a woman.
So much for her vision of strolling leisurely across the prairie, with Red Hawk admiring her beauty beneath a full moon.
There wasn’t even a full moon. In fact, there was no moon at all this night. At first she’d fretted over this condition—certain it would be too dark to go anywhere. Red Hawk had calmed her, telling her that the lack of a moon was to their advantage.
“Old Woman, or the moon, as you call her,” he had explained, “casts shadows, and a scout must always be wary of his silhouette beneath her beams, for its reflection can be seen even when he cannot be.”
Settling down beneath the bushes and glancing above her, she looked at the millions of stars winking at her.
She was startled by a sound. What was that?
Her heart beat a cadence against her chest. There it was again. A snapping sound, like someone moving. She looked in the direction from whence it came and saw that a doe had wandered to the stream, just ahead of her.
She hadn’t sensed its presence, and she felt a little silly for starting at the least sound.
Inhaling deeply, if only to calm herself, she was at once struck by the fragrances of the night.
Here in the bushes was a leafy scent, quite different from the earthy odor of the grasses and mud to which she had become quite accustomed this evening.
“I believe this place is secure enough.”
Effie jumped. She hadn’t heard Red Hawk return.
“Don’t do that,” she gasped. “Don’t sneak up on me like you have done just now. There is enough to be frightened of in the night, without you giving me a start.”
“But I made much noise.”
“Perhaps you did. However, I am not accustomed to this and do not know what sounds are dangerous and what are not.”
“You are right, of course. But I disagree that there is much to be frightened of at night. It is the safest time in which to travel.”
“Perhaps,” she said, not willing to give quarter.
He seemed to have dismissed the subject, and he sat down beside her and held out his hand. “I have brought some dry meat with me. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” She took the proffered jerky. “I hadn’t even thought of food or getting hungry on the trail. I guess maybe I didn’t think we would be gone very long.”
“We will be traveling through most of the night. It is to be regretted that it is taking longer for me to scout the trail ahead of us. But it is necessary to go slower.”
“Because of me.”
“Because I would be more careful and keep you safe.”
“Thank you, I think.” She stretched. “I surely need the rest. I am so tired and sore that I believe I will sleep well tomorrow night.”
He grinned at her. “’Tis to be expected that you are, and that you will.” He handed her another piece of jerky, which she took from him eagerly. “Your fingers are very small,” he commented, as he held up his hand in comparison.
She smiled as best she could beneath the muddy mask. “Yes, they are. I believe nature has intended it to be this way.”
“Aa.”
“Mr. Hawk?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me, what was it like living in a mist?”
He shrugged. “Much the same as I live here from day to day. Except perhaps that the mornings were always filled with fog. Always. But it was not as different as you might think.”
“Really?”
“I would simply go to sleep and arise with what seemed to me to be the next day. I was unaware of how many winters had passed between laying my head down and arising, or that the elders of our tribe were awake and aware all through those many years. Until I learned of it, I did not realize how greatly our tribe was cursed.”
She nodded. “Did you notice changes to the land?”
“Aa. In this way, one could discern that many years had passed.”
“But it didn’t occur to you how unusual this might be?”
“It did not,” he responded. “Not until I was older.”
“And what about the language? You tell me that the Lost Clan is a band of the Blackfoot people? And when you left, you came to live with a tribe that is also part of the Blackfoot Confederacy?”
“Aa.”
“Is the language now much different than the language of the Clan?”
“It has changed somewhat, but not enough that I do not speak or understand it well.”
“I see,” she said. “Ah, this does remind me of your promise to tell me what kitsikakomimmo means. Did you forget?”
He paused. “I have not forgotten. But before I tell you what it means, let me hear you say it again.”
“What? Kitsikakomimmo?”
“Aa. One more time.”
“Kitsikakomimmo. What does it mean?”
He winked at her. “It means I love you, and thank you for telling me of this love.”
She laughed softly. “You tricked me.”
“So I did. But it was good to hear it from your lips.” If he had expected her to say the phrase again or to comment on his teasing, he certainly didn’t give any indication of it.
Instead, he lay on his back, and after a while, she did the same.
Pointing toward the heavens, he said, “Do you see that group of stars? The one the white man names the Big Dipper?”
“Yes.”
“In my country, we call those stars the Seven Brothers. As the legend goes, there were once seven brothers who escaped into the sky to prevent certain death. Hannia, once they were taken up there, next to the heavens, they remained safe and unharmed. It was a good place for them, and so, there they linger, to this very day. And that…” he pointed out the beautiful Pleiades constellation, “…we call the Lost Children.”
“We call it the—”
“Pleiades,” he finished. “Yes, I know. Perhaps you might remember that I did once escort a black robe into Flathead country, and it was from him I learned your language.”
“Yes. And what do you call the red one up there?” She indicated the planet Mars.
“The Blackfeet have named it Big Fire Star.”