Kicking a stone from her path, Small Bird wound her way through cone-shaped tipis. A few of the women were still setting up. As soon as she and her tribe reached Swift-Foot's camp, he'd ordered the camp moved. She understood his concern. A tribe on the move made less of a target for an enemy. Staring around, the excitement of exploring and embracing a new land faded.

Even the tales of courage and brave deeds painted on the many sun-bleached hides that had impressed her days before now failed to impress her. Or inspire her.

Stopping behind a fairly large tipi, she glared at a scene depicting a crudely drawn warrior laying on his back with a gaping wound in his chest. Another figure stood over the fallen figure, his war ax held high. Blue Elk had many such paintings. His wife, Moon-Day glanced up at her and grinned shyly. She was very proud of her tipi—just as Small Bird had been excited to know she'd be sharing Swift-Foot's tipi. The outside of their tipi would boast many of his feats of skill, courage and triumphs over the enemy but the inside would hold only unfulfilled dreams on her part, resentment on his,

Small Bird resumed walking through camp, her mind on her conversation with Swift-Foot. She'd been so proud and eager to share a tipi with Swift-Foot. And still she would. Changing her mind was not an option. For either of them. Just a short while ago, she'd been proud, she'd had reason to celebrate. But truth had destroyed that innocent pride and happiness.

Walking around two giggling girls playing with dolls, she fought her anger and humiliation. It didn't matter that no one else knew the truth. She knew. Glancing toward the tipi of her parents, she saw her mother sitting among a large group of laughing, chattering women.

While Lone Warrior had reservations about her marriage to Swift-Foot, her mother did not. She held court over the matronly group while proudly adding the finishing touches to Small Bird's wedding dress.

For months her mother had worked hard to plan this wedding. Even Small Bird had eagerly joined in by making the garments Swift-Foot would wear tomorrow.

She'd tanned the hides until they were soft and supple. Then she'd spent nearly two months quilling intricate designs fitting for a renown warrior. She'd painstakingly cut fringe and used the large glass beads her father had gotten in trade from trappers. She'd also made matching moccasins, all this to prove to her husband that her womanly skills were equal to his warrior's skills, and to please him, and make him as proud of her as she of him.

Now she wondered if she'd gain any reaction. A man who didn't want a wife would not think much of the time, work and effort she'd put into his clothing.

Small Bird dodged two small, naked boys who ran around a tipi. One nearly smacked into her. She caught him, steadied him, then ruffled his black, shiny head. She didn't know their names yet, or even which family they belonged to, but it didn't matter. She loved children. "Hau," she greeted. They smiled shyly in return.

Twisting a bit, she opened one of three small pouches hanging from the braided belt tied around her waist and pulled out two small pieces of root from the Tipsila plant. The boys eagerly accepted the treat.

A brown dog nosed close. She looked hopeful up at Small Bird. Laughing softly, she stroked the sleek head. "Le tuwa ta sunka he?"

The same boy who'd run into her puffed out his narrow chest. "Mitawa!" Mine he said, answering her question as to who the dog belonged to.

"She is a fine dog." Small Bird eyed the dogs extended belly. She hoped the animal would not give birth before her feast. Boiled pups were considered not only good, but were served on special occasions. She'd never been able to enjoy the treat and avoided the delicacy. The boys and the dog streaked off, the dog waddling behind them.

Watching them, Small Bird sighed. Minutes ago, she'd been just as pleased, happy, excited and so sure of her future. And under the misconception that Swift-Foot felt the same way.

I believe our joining is to be. Do you not also? When she'd posed that question to him, she'd never imagined that he'd deny what she knew to be true. And it wasn't just because he'd saved her life long ago. As he'd said, he'd saved many lives over the years. But in saving her life, he'd set himself onto his path to greatness.

His actions hadn't been spurred by motivation to save himself. They were a selfless act of bravery, the mark of a true warrior. He'd put his own life in jeopardy to save hers. Swift-Foot had become the worthy warrior and chief of today because of her and his actions that day changed not only his life but hers as well.

It hurt to learn he didn't recognize her role in his life, or even want her for a wife. Terribly.

Glancing around, she bit her lower lip. Now what? How was she supposed to act? Feel? What would happen after the ceremony tomorrow? Surely he'd want her the way a man wanted a woman. Or would he. She recalled his words.

I am chief. There are many who will see to my needs. All my needs.

Embarrassed heat rose in her cheeks. A lump grew in the back of her throat. Blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She'd made a fool of herself. It hadn't mattered that her marriage was an arranged marriage rather than a love match. Love, she'd figured, would come later, as it did for most. At least on his part. Love on her part wouldn't take long. In fact, she figured she'd been secretly in love with him all her life.

She stared at the unfamiliar landscape, trying to find something comforting amongst all the change of the last couple weeks. She and her tribe had left their homeland to travel to Swift-Foot's. So much change.

The craggy mounds of a large rock formation at the opposite end of camp sat barren but for a few sparse trees and brush. They jutted proudly from the earth, the burnt grassland creeping up the sides. Small stands of dwarfed and dried looking trees defiantly held their own with scattered bits of scraggly bushes dotting the landscape.

One mound rose to form a sharp peak, reminding her of their own tipis. The others in the formation appeared to be gentle mounds. One struck her as incredibly beautiful and a study in opposites with its gently rounded top and pale brown sides cut as if by a sharp knife or ax.

Each mound sat distinctly apart, yet joined together at their bases by smaller rocks, and hardened earth. Until arriving in this strange land, she'd known only gently rolling prairie and the dark, thick forests of the Paha Sapa which appeared black from a distance.

Swift-Foot's world was filled with such bare mounds of earth as these along with deep dry gullies and flat topped mountains. The starkness of this world drew her. The beauty lay in the changing landscape and contrasting colors of green, pale browns, whites and grays. Already she loved the harsh land she'd call her own from now on.

Two young warriors walked past her, spurring her onward. The question now was: would Swift-Foot come to realize she belonged here? And if he didn't, what then?

One thing was clear: She would not change her mind. Pride demanded she forget that he'd appeared to want her to do just that. No matter her own feelings on the matter, she'd never to anything to bring shame to her father, mother or brother.

"Not a good way to start a marriage," she muttered beneath her breath.

Brushing her hair away from her face, Small Bird let out a frustrated breath. Carefully she studied the large camp of more than thirty tipis. Her tribe and Swift-Foot's had merged effortlessly and with almost no animosity. The positions of the new families had been decided upon by the elders.

Those of great importance camped on the eastern side of the camp, or horn, although the tipi of her parents commanded the southeastern position of the horn. This allowed mother and daughter to be close to each other once she and Swift-Foot placed their tipi at the northeastern entrance after the wedding.

A short distance away, a younger group of woman surrounded by small children chatted. Strips of antelope and buffalo hung drying on racks nearby while cook fires steamed with chunks of meat, tipsila, wild onion and greens. Nuts, dried and fresh berries sat on squares of rawhide, inviting anyone hungry to snack. Tonight, as they had during the last week, the two tribes would eat as one just as they'd become one after the wedding took place.

Small Bird avoided both groups of women. With her conversation with Swift-Foot still ringing in her ears and her heart heavy with disappointment, she wasn't sure she could act the happy bride. Forcing a smile to her lips when an elderly woman left her tipi and greeted her, Small Bird's smile died as soon as there was no one to see her false gaiety.

Needing to be with people she knew and loved, she made her way to where three of her cousins sat. At her approach Makatah and Shy Mouse, daughters of her mother's sister smiled and motioned for her to sit between them. Moon-Fire, her cousin from another of her mother's sisters ignored her. Close in age, the four girls had grown up together.

Small Bird lowered herself to the ground and folded her legs to her side as a woman sat. She tried to relax and find comfort in the rhythmic scrape of stone against stone as her cousins ground chokecherries into a fine powder.

"You look sad, my cousin." Shy Mouse, the youngest among them, eyed her with concern.

Small Bird reached out and took a berry from the pouch of water they sat softening in before being ground. What would her cousins say if she told them that Swift-Foot didn't want her for wife, that like a young girl with stars in her eyes, she'd thought he'd chosen her specifically because of their shared past.

It would shock and upset Makatah and Shy Mouse. Moon-Fire would undoubtably gloat.

Makatah smiled with understanding. "She is nervous. Soon she will become a woman."

Small Bird rolled her eyes. Becoming a wife, and all that it entailed, was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment.

"There is more for our cousin to fear than the marriage bed. Moon Fire tossed the rounded stone in her hand down.

Makatah, the oldest, and the only one married, sent her cousin a sharp look. Do not think to cause trouble, cousin."

Hoping to head off angry words, Small Bird reached forward to take the stone bowl from Makatah. "Let me do this," she said. "You look tired." She needed something to do otherwise she'd drive herself crazy.

Makatah shook her head. "No. We prepare your wedding feast. You are not to work," her cousin said. Then she smiled proudly and patted the barely noticeable swell of her abdomen. "Soon your belly will grow round with child, just as mine does."

Shy Mouse giggled and blushed. She'd just celebrated becoming a woman and spent much of her time gazing at the many single warriors, seeking her future mate.

Moon-Fire shook her mane of shiny black hair over her shoulder then stood, glaring down at them. "You are fools. Our cousin will be dead long before Swift-Foot's seed can grow."

Small Bird glared at Moon-Fire. For weeks, the girl had been in a foul mood. Anything to do with the wedding caused her to get angry, sulk and grow petulant. "Why do you seek to cause trouble, Moon-Fire?"

"She is jealous," Makatah dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "She has no warrior courting her."

Moon-Fire laughed but the sound came out a harsh bark. "That is what you think. Many brave warriors wish to court me." Her mouth turned hard, ruining the soft fullness of her lips.

Small Bird reached out and picked up Moon Fire's abandoned stone bowl. Just what she needed: Moon-Fire in another of her moods. At sixteen, the same age as Small Bird, her cousin was turned vain, greedy, self-centered and lately, she showed signs of becoming a trouble maker. "Go elsewhere if you seek to cause trouble, Moon-Fire."

Once again, Moon-Fire tossed her long, silky hair over her shoulder. "You are a fool to marry Swift-Foot." She bent down, her eyes glinting with malice. "They will come—the warriors of Hawk Eyes—and they will kill your husband. And they will kill you to prevent you from giving birth to the grandchild of Runs With Wind."

Makatah and Shy mouse gasped when Moon Fire spoke the name of the dead aloud. Small Bird glared at Moon Fire for her disrespect and insensitiveness. No one needed reminding that Swift-Foot's parents had been killed shortly after his birth. Least of all her.

Glancing around the sheltered area they camped in, Small Bird felt relieved that no one had heard. Any dishonor Moon Fire brought to herself, she also brought to the rest of her people. As her gaze swept the large camp, she couldn't help the wave of relief that slid through her at the many guards standing guard. Not young, inexperienced braves, but hardened, trained warriors. Some had even been positioned upon the mounds of rock where they had a clear view for miles.

No one would be able to attack this camp without them being alerted. "Swift-Foot's warriors are many now," she said. "We will be safe. Safer than if he were alone with our few numbers."

Around her, celebration filled the afternoon air. The marriage between her and Swift-Foot would join the two tiyospayes, or clans of the Hunkpapa. The harsh winter had taken the lives of many of her tribe, including their chief, Moon-Fire's father. With so few warriors, they were vulnerable to their enemies and her own father was getting too old to continue to lead.

Moon-Fire laughed harshly. "The tribe of Swift-Foot has lost more than warriors over the years. Women and children have also died," she reminded cruelly. "Have you forgotten that Swift-Foot lost his aunt?"

"Enough," Makatah ordered. "This is a happy time. Do not ruin it with your mean-spiritness."

Standing tall, Moon-Fire glared at her. "You call truth mean-spirited? You are fools if you believe that there will be peace. This war will not end until Swift-Foot is dead!" She pointed to Small Bird. "If you marry Swift-Foot, you bring death to our people."

A heavy silence fell. Small Bird held herself proudly. "I will not let my people down," she said, forcing pride into her voice. Even at the cost to her own foolish dreams and desires. Like seeing love grow in her soon-to-be husband's eyes.

Moon-Fire backed away. "Then you are a fool." She stalked away. Small Bird closed her eyes and fought down fear of the future. Was her cousin right? Had she condemned her people to death? Doubts assailed her.

The blurry images of that nightmarish day came to her: the horse of the enemy bearing down on her as she clung to Calf-Boy. That day haunted her dreams still. Though she'd been young, she'd known death rode after them.

With her arms wrapped around his neck, and her legs tight around his waist, she'd watched in terror as the enemy gained on them, riding so close, she still saw the warriors features twisted in hate. His hatred had been so great, he'd have killed a small girl.

Swift-Foot's uncle had killed the enemy but those images were forever burned in her memories. Yet as horrible as those images were, what had stayed with her year after year was the way Calf-Boy, renamed Swift-Foot, had comforted her after. For two weeks, she'd followed him everywhere, as if he'd become her big brother that day. He'd ignored the taunts and jeers of his peers. During that confusing time of laying the dead to rest, and the days of wailing and lamenting, Swift-Foot had taken the time to hold her and reassure her—something no boy his age would have done.

Which in part had led to her belief that he'd known of the importance of that day to their future. And since that day, she'd only seen him at the end of summers when hundreds of tribes came together for the Sun Dance. But she dreamed of him, and the day when he would come claim her.

Foolishly it now seemed. So what now? Canceling the wedding was not an option yet going into a marriage with a man who clearly did not want her didn't hold much appeal either.

"Ignore her," Makatah said softly, reaching out to touch Small Bird on the arm. "You know she seeks to cause trouble."

Small Bird sent her cousin a grateful smile. "I know." She shook off her doubts and her own fears of the future. Continuing to grind chokecherries into a fine powder, she knew it was out of her hands. Had been since that day so long ago.

Sighing, Small Bird shifted until she sat back on her feet, her heels turned outward. It would have touched her heart had Moon Fire acted out of concern with her safety or even the well-being of the tribe, but she knew better. Moon Fire's concern only ran to herself.

Needing reassurance from her family, and her best friends, Small Bird kept her eyes on her task as she said, "If I do not marry Swift-Foot, I would be no better than the father of Swift-Foot. If Runs With Wind had done his duty and married the mother of Hawk Eyes's as promised, there would be no war between our tribes." Small Bird thought of Swift-Foot's father who'd chosen love over duty and in doing so, had caused years of misery and bloodshed.

Makatah reached over and gripped Small Bird's hand until she met her gaze. "We cannot change the past. You of all people know the truth."

Small Bird forced a smile and a bright tone to her voice. "Forget her."

The subject was dropped. Silently, Small Bird listened to her cousins as they discussed plans for the days of feasting to come. Absently, she scanned the skies. The sight of several soaring eagles in the distance brought back her earlier fears that there would be trouble ahead.