13 Years Later

Standing beneath a young cottonwood, Small Bird leaned her head against the rough trunk, her head resting in a vee. High above, a golden eagle soared lazily across the crystalline blue sky, spiraling downward in an ever tightening circle. The majestic bird spread the feathered tips of his wings, dipping one wing to capture the dry breath of summer high above the sun-burnt earth.

The rich golden browns stood out against the pale, sun-bleached sky: a calm, soothing sight. Lower and lower he soared until he chased his own shadow across the mirrored surface of the lazy, sluggish stream.

Without warning, a covey of sharp-tailed grouse took flight. The eagle let out a cry as he swooped after the smaller birds. Sharp talons shot out and snagged his prey. With a sharp downward pull of wings, the powerful hunter lifted his head to the sun, reversed direction and left the ravine.

Watching the powerful bird who one minute gave the appearance of gentle beauty then showed the powerful hunter within sent Small Bird's heart beating as fast as that of the frightened birds.

Around her, the birds settled back into the tree tops. Quiet and peace resettled. But not in her heart. The sight of the eagle making a kill left her feeling edgy. Wambli, the spirit of the eagle presided over war parties, hunters and battles; his appearance, today, the day before her marriage to Swift-Foot did not bode well.

She closed her eyes, seeking comfort in the warm breeze, the soft rustle of leaves overhead, and the soft chirps of birds fluttering from branch to branch. All creatures had to eat. Even the golden eagle. It meant nothing.

She deliberately glanced around her, finding beauty in this strange land. But the vision of the eagle became a dark shadow in her mind, obliterating all reason. Seeking strength, her fingers dug into the deep furrows in the trunk as she sought to anchor herself. And to admit to the truth of the eagle's presence.

Death.

No. It could not be. "It is a sign you must heed." The deep, familiar voice echoed her thoughts.

Small Bird turned her head to the side. Her brother stared intently at her, worry darkening his eyes and lining his mouth. Neither spoke. Both knew she understood the meaning of the eagle. With her gift of truth she paid attention to details and listened to the spirits. They guided the way. But this was one truth she wanted to ignore.

Unfortunately, Lone Warrior voiced her own fears and deepened her own trepidation. She ran sweat-slicked palms down the sides of her deerskin dress. "It does not change anything."

Lone Warrior stalked over to her. "It changes everything. The spirits warn of death." Anger deepened his voice. "Do not do this!"

Small Bird kept her gaze locked to his. "Wambli is a great hunter. She held out one hand to stop her brother from interrupting her.

"Swift-Foot is also a great warrior and hunter. Perhaps Wambli came to tell me this." She didn't believe her own words. Had that been the truth, the eagle would not have made a kill. He'd have just shown himself.

Lone Warrior's eyes narrowed. He towered over her. "He warns of death. Yours. Are you so foolish that you would ignore this warning? The enemy of Swift-Foot will seek you out."

Small Bird shrugged. She wasn't so foolish as to discount the warning of death. But arguing with her brother wouldn't change anything, especially the union between her and Swift-Foot. Lone Warrior loves you, she reminded herself. He worries, and doesn't understand that the past had shaped your future.

"There will be peace between the Hunkpapa and Miniconjou. I know this to be the truth. Are they not talking of peace. Many Horns of the Miniconjou brought many gifts to show that Hawk Eyes and his people wish to end the war."

Disgust edged Lone Warrior's voice. "It is a trick. They will attack and kill. As the wife of Swift-Foot, they will seek you along with him. As they killed the parents of Swift-Foot, they will kill you both." He spun away to pace along the bank.

After several taut minutes of silence, he continued, "I cannot allow you to put yourself in this danger."

Small Bird sighed. Over the years, the Miniconjou's had tried many times to kill the son of Runs With Wind. She knew they would continue to hunt him down and as the wife of Swift-Foot, her own life would be in danger as well. Though it scared her, she accepted it. The past had set her on the path that led to this marriage. The fact that the Miniconjou were willing to talk peace reassured her.

Deep in her heart, the truth was clear. Peace would be achieved. And she would have a hand in it. Staring out across the shallow stream, Small Bird watched leaves from the tree at her back drift onto the water and float downstream. Bits of dried grass in lone patches between boulders waved gracefully, and upstream, several small toddlers played in the water, their mothers keeping close watch over them.

Yet the peaceful scene did not put Small Bird at ease. Lone Warrior's arguments didn't help. How could she convince him that it was far too late to change her mind? Her brother, and many of their tribe, also of the Hunkpapa had been against the marriage and the joining of the two tribes from the beginning. For it put them all at war with the Miniconjou.

Lone Warrior had tried to talk her father into refusing the marriage offer. But deep in her heart, she'd known this was her future. She'd turned down many suitors before Swift-Foot, sure in her belief that one day her life would merge with his.

The welfare of her people weigh heavily on her shoulders. Her emotions whirled, leaving her confused and even a bit frightened. Truth could be scary. Sometimes she longed for ignorance.

Caught in the turbulence of the past like a rock or tree branch sucked up in the strong winds of the whirlwind, she pushed away from the supporting strength of the tree trunk. Blinking against the reflected brightness of the sun glinting off the water's surface, she blurred her sight. The sharpness of the scene softened. Colors and hues merged as the stream turned silvery-white, framed with swirls of green, brown and blue.

Come to me, she commanded. The truth came to her in many forms. Thoughts. Feelings. Sometimes dreams. As this one had.

Slowly, the brown blur took on the shape of a young boy with black hair. He wore a big grin as he waved at her. The scene soothed her. This child, her child, hers and Swift-Foot's represented the future and gave her the faith she needed to believe she had a future. One shared with a great warrior: The warrior who'd saved her life at the age of three.

The image of the boy faded at the sound of her brother's angry voice. "This is not the time to let your mind cloud with silly dreams." Lone Warrior glared down at her.

Small Bird didn't bother to tell him that what he called "her silly dreams" were visions that often spoke of the future, or explained the present. She'd kept her talents to herself, speaking of them only to their medicine man—and her father. It was that dream of that little boy combined with her past connection to Swift-Foot that had cemented her marriage arrangements with Swift-Foot.

Swift-Foot's uncle, the old chief, and Wind Dancer, the young shaman knew of her abilities as well but she asked them not to reveal the truth to others. She had no desire to become winyan waken, their holy woman. Her role lay in becoming a wife, and bearing this child.

Small Bird waited patiently for her brother to leave. Nothing he said would change the course of her future.

Sighing, she put her hand on her brother's shoulder. When it came right down to it, she really hadn't had a choice in the matter. Knowing this was her destiny didn't make it easy to accept and her brother's continual arguments just made it worse.

"I must do this," she said softly.

"Then you are fool." Lone Warrior grabbed her by the upper arms and held her firmly. "Like that small bird the eagle snagged in his sharp talons, Swift-Foot's enemies will come for you." He released her but held her gaze. "Wambli warns of death. If you go through with this foolish marriage, you will die." Once more, bitterness edged his voice.

Trembling beneath the heat and conviction of his words, Small Bird turned away. She hated the weakness and shiver of fear his words produced yet all she could do was hold onto that bit of hope the child brought her for by this time tomorrow, she'd be Swift-Foot's wife.

Lone Warrior forced her to face him. "Have you forgotten that you nearly lost your life because of the man you seek to marry?" His voice vibrated with anger.

Memories intruded, blurring everything around her.

The Screams.

The pounding of her heart that matched the pounding of the horses hooves carrying the enemy toward her hiding spot.

The rumble of the ground beneath her chest, the terror of being alone.

And finally, the acrid smell of smoke mingling with screams that had seemed to last a lifetime.

She'd been so young. She hadn't understood death but she'd been sensitive to the grief around her. And so confused. She remembered how scared she'd been in the days following the attack when women slashed their hair short and cut their own flesh. She shuddered; the vision of a woman chopping the tips of her own fingers off still haunted her.

Small Bird drew a deep breath and forced the nightmare away. She had to make Lone Warrior understand. Though not a chief, the warriors of their clan of Hunkpapa looked to him for leadership. If he refused to give his alliance to Swift-Foot who'd become their new chief when she married him, then the rest of the warriors would also withhold loyalty. And that would just cause tension and strife.

Sliding her arms from his hands, she reached out and took his hands in hers. "I have not forgotten that day. I will never forget the day many died." Her voice broke.

Lone Warrior jumped in. "Do you not care that you may meet the same end?"

Small Bird closed her eyes, her grip tightening on his hands. "You know I care," she whispered.

"Then I will speak to our father. I will tell him about the appearance of Wambli. He will agree that it is a sign." He turned to leave.

Small Bird grabbed his arm. She loved her brother, hated to see him so worried but could not allow him to interfere. "No. Do not. No more fights. It will not change what will be." She tightened her hold on his arm to prevent him from leaving.

For long moments, brother and sister stared at one another. Finally, Lone Warrior inclined his head. "This does not make me happy, but I will respect your decision and keep my own council."

Relieved, Small Bird glanced down at the ground to show Lone Warrior respect. "Thank you, my brother."

Shouts to her right brought her head up. A group of five exuberant boys ran past them, forcing her to step back. Smiling sadly, she longed for the carefree days of childhood.

The children skidded to a stop when a woman came around a huge boulder. Leaning heavily on a thick stick, she hobbled over the rocky ground. She wore a long shapeless dress with no decoration. Not even a simple row of colorful quilling adorned the yoke. No row of swinging fringe had been added to soften the plainness of her garment. A long length of softened deerskin covered her head and hid her face. In her free hand, she clutched the edges of a wide strip of leather that encircled twigs and sticks.

After a moments hesitation, three of the boys ran in circles around the old woman, taunting her. One youngster picked up a rock. "Show us your face, old woman," he shouted.

Small Bird gasped at the rude display of the boys from her tribe. The two from Swift-Foot's tribe were silently backing away from their new friends. Ashamed of their behavior, Small Bird rushed forward. Lone Warrior followed.

"Enough!" she said. Engrossed in their cruel game, the boys didn't hear her. Without warning, one boy leapt forward and snatched the woman's head covering from her head.

Startled, the woman whirled around and tried to take it back. The stick fell from her hand and she lost her balance. Her lame foot buckled beneath her and she fell with a cry. Staring down at the woman, the three boys froze in horror.

"Anog-Ite!"

"Anog-Ite!"

"Double-Faced Woman!"

The threesome ran from the woman as fast as they could. The other two boys had already fled.

Small Bird hurried to help the woman regain her feet but when she saw the woman's profile, she froze and stared down at the woman in wonder. She'd always thought her cousin Moon Fire to be the most beautiful woman among them, but this woman's face held an ethereal beauty she'd never before seen. Small Bird heard the gasp from her brother.

His jaw had dropped. He stared at the woman as if unable to believe the beauty before him. Rolling her eyes, Small Bird returned her attention to the shaking woman. She bent down.

Are you hurt?" she asked. She reached out to take the woman by the arm and help her up.

Startled, the woman pulled her arm away and tried to scoot away. "No! You must not touch me!" She cried out in pain when a sharp rock cut her palm. Small Bird frowned. The backs of her hands were scarred. The young woman fell back with a hiss of pain.

Small Bird couldn't help her own escaping hiss of horror. While one half of the woman's face was a study of perfection, the other had been ravaged by puckered scars and was grotesquely misshapen. The woman rolled, using her hands to hid her face.

Lone Warrior stumbled back. "Anog-Ite," he whispered.

Frozen in place, Small Bird stared down at the woman. The background noise of the two tribes preparing for a wedding feast faded. A sick feeling crept through her.

All women and girls dreaded the spirit of the Double-Woman who was very cunning. She loved to frighten women who were with child and give them pains. She lured hunters away with her beautiful face then frightened them senseless with her horrid half. And worse, if a woman dreamed of Anog-Ite, she became a Double-Woman Dreamer.

Lone Warrior pulled Small Bird away. "We must go. Now."

Realizing she was still gaping at the cowering woman, Small Bird rose slowly. As she did, her gaze fell on the woman's leg. Long scars and puckered skin marred the shapely limb.

Suddenly, Small Bird knew who this woman was. "Willow Song," she murmured, staring down at Swift-Foot's cousin. Everyone knew of the terrible injuries his cousin had suffered the day her mother had been clubbed to death. But Small Bird had believed the stories of her ugliness to be gross exaggeration. They weren't.

She reached down to offer comfort and reassurance to the woman.

Lone Warrior gripped her harder, stopping her. "Do not touch her. You will be cursed."

Small Bird shook him off. "No," she said softly. "This is Willow Song, cousin to Swift-Foot." She glanced up at her brother and saw the dawning in his eyes.

Small Bird called out in a gentle voice, "Willow-Song?"

"Please leave," Willow Song said, her voice muffled by her hands.

"No. I am not afraid." And she wasn't. This was not a Double-Woman Dreamer. Willow Song had received her injuries and scars in the same attack in which Swift-Foot had saved her own life.

Compassion urged Small Bird to wrap her arms around the young woman. "Come, Willow Song. We will help you up." When Lone Warrior continued to stand and stare at the distraught woman, Small Bird glared at him. He didn't notice. His gaze remained on Willow Song who'd hesitantly lowered one hand. The other remained to shield her scared face.

Small Bird helped Willow Song to her feet.

"Thank you," Willow Song said.

To Small Bird's surprise, Willow Song's voice reflected the beauty of her perfect profile: soft, melodious and clear. Lone Warrior's gaze remained fixed on Swift-Foot's cousin as if he was in a trance.

Kicking a large stone, she aimed it at his shin. He yelped, then glared at her. She motioned with her eyes for him to come to Willow Song's other side. "We will help you to your tipi." Her voice brooked no argument. From either Willow Song or her brother.

Lone Warrior looked ill at ease and Willow Song looked frightened when Lone Warrior approached her scared and ugly side.

"No!" Her voice rose. "Do not touch me."

"What is going on here?"

Small Bird and Lone Warrior whirled around. Kills Many Crows, Willow Song's brother approached them at a run.

Lone Warrior stepped forward and quickly explained what had happened.

Kills Many Crows narrowed his eyes. "The behavior of those boys is unacceptable."

"Agreed. I will deal with the boys, " Lone Warrior promised.

Kills Many Crows slashed at the air with his hand. "No. Our chief shall deal with their shameful behavior" The two warriors glared at one another.

Willow Song reached out for her brother. She clung to his arm. "They did not know," she said softly.

"No excuse," Kills Many Crows said.

Small Bird stepped forward. Behind Kills Many Crows, she noticed several women gathering. "You are right. There is no excuse. We were about to help your sister to her tipi."

Stepping in front of his sister as if to protect her, Kills Many Crows scooped her into his arms. "You and your people have done enough."

Stung by Kills Many Crow's insult, Small Bird fell back as Kills Many Crows strode past her. The crowd quickly scattered. Women ducked their heads, children ran, and warriors hurried off.

Lone Warrior glanced down at her with troubled eyes. "Do you need further proof of what your future with Swift-Foot beholds. His enemy does not care who they harm. Think about upon that." With that final parting shot, he stalked off.

Alone in the dappled sunshine. Small Bird was very much afraid that he was right. If the talks of peace failed, the enemy would not hesitate to attack and kill her. She turned to leave, needing suddenly to be around her people to keep her worried thoughts at bay.

She froze when Swift-Foot stepped out of the shadows.

"Your brother has no faith in his new chief to keep his wife safe from the enemy." His voice mocked.

Swift-Foot stepped out of the shadows. He'd heard much most of the conversation between brother and sister. While he cared little what his wife-to-be thought, he could not allow any member of his tribe to doubt his abilities to lead or protect. His people accepted his role of chief and leader without question and while there were less than a dozen warriors, young or old in Small Bird's tribe, he knew it didn't take much resentment or dissension to weaken or split a tribe. Regardless of how anyone felt, he was chief. And if any thought him arrogant, well, he'd earned the right to both titles by deed, sacrifice and hard work.

Expecting Small Bird to appear uneasy at being caught discussing the wiseness of their arranged marriage, she surprised him by boldly holding his gaze with eyes the color of freshly churned earth. Wide, large and as innocent as a newborn fawn, her gaze gave him no apology. Which irritated him. Folding his arms across his chest, he stared down at her.

Since her tribes arrival more than a week ago, he'd endured the doubt of her people in silence. The two tribes were to join as one as decreed by the two councils. Not all embraced the idea. His young age alone caused many to question his abilities. The life-long war between him and his enemy made many doubt the wisdom of such a merger.

Small Bird broke the tense silence between them. "It is no secret that your enemy hunts you down. Many have died in the past." The proud tilt to her head and shoulders dared him to deny what she said.

He tipped his head slightly, acknowledging the truth to her words. "It is a battle I seek to end, one my father began before my birth."

"My brother, along with many others, believe you are too young to lead so many." Small Bird watched him carefully.

Narrowing his eyes, Swift-Foot answered, "If there is doubt regarding my ability to lead, then why did you agree to join with me?"

Small Bird's gaze slid from his. "Some choices are made despite knowing the risks. She moved away from him.

Shifting sideways in order to watch her, Swift-Foot searched her words and tone for bitterness or resentment. He found none. Yet in his own mind and heart, those two emotions swelled, growing daily, crushing the man within.

"You could have said no. My uncle would have accepted your refusal." Then he could have married the woman of his heart, not his uncle's choice.

No, a small voice declared. Your uncle would have found another for you to wed.

This, Swift-Foot knew to be true. His future had been decided the moment his uncle decided to step down as chief. It came as no surprise to him, or to anyone else that the council would chose him as their next chief. Since the age of seven, Swift-Foot had been groomed for the position. But the honor came with a price: he had to take a wife of the council's choosing.

He hadn't hesitated in agreeing. Nothing had been more important than restoring his family's honor and insuring the safety of his people.

Until Emily.

Over the summer, he'd learned the power of love, came to understand what had made his father had risked everything, including his life, for a woman. Yet for Swift-Foot, love changed.

Small Bird's soft voice drew him back from his dark thoughts. "It is an honor to marry a man held in such high esteem throughout our land."

"Honor or lack of such is why this marriage will take place." Fearing she'd see the anger and resentment in him, Swift-Foot kept his gaze focused on a group of youths practicing their skills with wooden knives. What was done was done. Except in his heart, hope still breathed through him; a small, living being struggling to survive. From the corner of his eye, he saw Small Bird turn to watch the boys.

"If you overhead the conversation I had with my brother, then you know I believe our joining is to be. Do you not also?" He heard genuine puzzlement in her voice.

"No." A twinge in his gut accompanied the harshness of his voice. He heard her swift, sharp intake of air at his brutal honesty. Guilt rapped him smartly on the shoulder. It did no good to voice his true feelings on the matter of this marriage. It was too late. Had been before he'd even met Emily. His life had been set on its course the minute his uncle declared his intention to step down as chief.

Small Bird walked around to face him. "How can you not believe that our lives are meant to be joined as one? Our futures were decided the day you saved my life."

Wishing he'd never stopped to talk to Small Bird, Swift-Foot smiled without humor. "I have saved the lives of many. Should I take to wife every female I've saved?" If only it worked like that. Save a life. Marry. He thought of Emily, how he'd saved her life and lost his heart in the sweetness of smile, and the braveness of her spirit. But a future had not been possible between them.

Staring over Small Bird's shoulder so he didn't have to see hurt in her eyes, he stared blankly, seeing only a bleak, empty future. He felt hollow inside and did not believe that his shared past with Small Bird meant that their future was tied together. If it had been that simple, then he knew he'd never have fallen in love with another woman, especially a white woman.

Small Bird swung her hands behind her back. Her chin went up, and her eyes flashed. "Was not the day you saved my life the day that led you to becoming the great warrior you are this day? Or have you forgotten that day?"

Swift-Foot lifted a brow. Forget the day he'd become a warrior? Or the fear that had lodged in his throat when he'd seen the enemy riding down a small, innocent child? Never. But in his mind, that day had set him upon his path to becoming the man he was today. A man who'd somehow restore honor to his tribe, a man who'd never allow the enemy to kill another member of his tribe. He kept at bay the terror and grief that day had produced.

Swift-Foot's voice hardened. "I have not forgotten that day.

"Neither have I," Small Bird said, hands on her hips. "You joined our paths when you acted with the courage of a warrior. It is right that we marry and join together to find a way to end the war between the Hunkpapa and Miniconjou. If you do not believe this to be so, then you are not the wise warrior people speak about." Small Bird hugged her arms to her chest and turned her back on him.

He'd hurt her, something he'd not intended when he decided to confront her regarding her brother. Now he realized he'd been looking to pick a fight. Maybe learn she truly didn't want the marriage. Swift-Foot opened his mouth to apologize but the gentle sway of her long, blue-black hair, and the way it brushed against the rounded curve of her buttocks stopped him.

She was a small, petite woman with narrow shoulders and a tiny waist. With her back to him, her shoulders drawn in, she looked fragile. He couldn't help but compare her to Emily who hadn't been much taller but more generous in the curves of her body.

The two women were different. One of the gentlest dawn, the other the darkness of night. One held the brown of the earth in her eyes, the other the blue of the sky. Small Bird's hair could have been the clear, black night while Emily's the moon and stars. One had loved him and had been willing to give up all she'd known for him while this woman, by her own admission felt bound by duty. And duty had bound him to her as well. The only difference being that she accepted it. He fought it.

Clenching his jaw, his fingers slid up his arm and over the band of rabbit fur circling his upper arm. Then his fingers trailed down to his bare chest where a rabbit's foot, dyed red hung from a narrow strip of leather. Next to it lay a small narrow pouch no bigger than his thumb.

He gripped it tightly between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the thin strand of braided hair inside. He didn't need to take it out. All he had to do was to look up into the round ball of sunshine to know its color.

"You are troubled."

Small Bird's soft voice hit him like a slap on the face. She stared up at him, a frown on her face. Then she cocked her head to the side. "No. You are sad."

Her pronouncement hung between them.

Longing to lash out, to destroy the truth of her words, he took a step back, angry with himself for allowing her to see more than he intended. He fought the urge to run. Far and fast. Away. Anywhere where he would not have to look upon this woman who'd soon be his wife and a daily reminder of the woman he'd lost.

His wife.

The words sent bitterness raging through him. Once he'd viewed his up-coming marriage as a duty. Nothing more. Nothing less. No different than any other responsibility expected of him. All his life he'd put his people first, sacrificed whatever they asked of him. Without complaint. Without resentment.

Until now. His time with the young white girl had changed everything, yet nothing had changed.

When he didn't respond, Small Bird walked away. Another layer of guilt slid across his shoulders. She didn't deserve his anger. It wasn't her fault he'd changed since sealing their marriage contract. Spotting Kills Many Crows leaving Willow Song's tipi, he remembered how Small Bird had tried to help his cousin.

Fairness, and gratitude made him call out to her. "Thank you for your kindness toward my cousin. Few speak to her. Most fear her." He struggled to keep all emotion from his voice. Buried amongst all the layers of guilt lay a thick layer for the disfigurement his cousin had suffered.

Surprised, Small Bird turned. "Your cousin is not to blame for what happened to her."

That hot, spear of guilt ripped through his heart. "No. I am." The words rushed out unbidden, shocking him. Not once had he ever voiced his guilt. Not to his uncle. His cousin or even to their shaman.

Small Bird walked slowly back to him. "No. That is not true. You are not to blame for the actions of your father."

Swift-Foot laughed, the sound harsh. "Your brother does not share that belief."

Small Bird brushed a strand of hair from her face and then sighed. "My brother loves me. He worries."

Staring up at the wide expanse of clear blue sky, Swift-Foot tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. Right then, it all felt too much. For so long he'd taken much on his shoulders, starting when he'd been just a boy. After so many years, he felt tired and weary. His soul cried out for peace. His mind knew it would be denied. "Perhaps your brother is right to fear for your future. Perhaps you should listen to him."

Surprised, Small Bird stared up at him. Then she shook her head. "It is too late. When your father changed his mind and decided not to marry the woman he'd said he would, he started a war."

Swift-Foot shrugged. "I am chief. I would not punish you or your people if you refused." A small part of him hoped she'd take the out he gave her. Though he could never have Emily, at least if Small Bird changed her mind, he'd be able to live alone.

Small Bird considered him for several long moments. "Why do you not wish to join with me?

"I have no desire to marry." Liar, a voice deep inside cried. He could not meet her eyes. Nor could he bear to stare up into the sky and see a daily reminder of what he'd lost.

"Do you fear for my life?" Small Bird kept her gaze on his.

Unsure if he admired her courage in confronting him or whether her refusal to back down and leave him in peace angered him, he spoke the truth. "Marriage to me puts you and your people in danger. It is one thing for the enemy to come after me. But when they learn I have taken a wife, they will seek to kill you."

"I am not afraid. You are chief now. You need someone to look after your tipi." Small Bird sounded uncertain.

Swift-Foot dismissed her comment. If she chose to go through with marriage to him, he wanted her to carry no false impressions. "As chief, there are many who see to my needs."

He paused for a heartbeat then added, "All my needs."

Small Bird blushed when she spoke, her voice shook with anger. "I will honor the spirits who saw reason to give a young boy the courage and skill to save a small girl. You may not wish me for wife; you may even wish me to leave, but I will not. I belong here, at your side." The look she sent him dared him to renounce her.

They both knew he could not. With one final glare, Small Bird left him.

Swift-Foot watched stalk away. Ashamed of his behavior yet desperate, he turned and followed the river away from camp. The further from camp, the faster he went until he was running.

The spirits had tested him. On a quest to learn the answer to his disturbing dreams, he'd come across Emily. The white girl's parents had been killed in an Indian attack and she'd been alone. He'd saved her life. Immediately, he'd known she was the unknown in his dreams.

And at first, he'd believed the spirits were testing him. His own mother had been white, sharing the same eye and hair color. And like his father, Swift-Foot had been drawn to the white woman. But he'd believed he could return her to her people then just return to take over as chief.

He'd been wrong. He'd delayed his return by spending almost two full moons with Emily. Then had come the day he'd known he could not put off. He'd had to leave Emily behind and return to pick up his duties.

Unlike his father, Swift-Foot had passed the test. He'd chosen duty over love. His people over his own desires. You won. You lost. The words echoed with each pounding step.

Over hills, around jutting rock formations and across flat mesas. He ran until his legs could go no further. Until his lungs burned. Falling to his knees, he leaned his head back and cried out, his hands lifting high.

Staring up into the blue heavens hurt his eyes and heart. The shade was the same deep hue of Emily's eyes. Flicking his gaze to the solid rock of the bluff to his left, his breath caught in his throat. The pale golden rocks, some bleached nearly white brought forth memories of long ribbons of hair flowing over his arms, his shoulders and brushing across his chest. He gripped his arm bands. Soft. So soft and silky.

Closing his eyes, Swift-Foot struggled against the memories of a woman he feared he'd never forget or stop loving. How could he when he saw her in the sky and land around him?

"Concentrate on your duties," he whispered. He'd always walked his path alone, his future laid out by his past. Nothing had ever been allowed to interfere with the needs of his people. Not the breaking of his heart and not an unwanted marriage.

Nothing changed. Nothing ever would. Not until he atoned for the past.