The Raven Priestess laughed at his sudden loss of words, then cocked her head at him. "I believe you have yet to answer my question, Nate."
Nate came to and chuckled. Now that he knew things were all right between them, he paused and rubbed his stubbled chin for a moment in contemplation.
"Oh yes, that, well, let's see," he stalled coyly.
That earned him a quick poke in the stomach, not too hard considering he had just taken a painful fall, but enough to get his attention.
"Okay, okay! Yes! In English, the words we say are 'I do', and yes, I do! Now, are you sure you want to be married to a scruffy old scoundrel like me?"
"Yes! 'I do!' I have felt it since I first lay eyes on you, and then became sure as we faced the Rattlesnake Priests together. At last, a man who could stir my heart! A courageous warrior, who also knew compassion! I want you very, very much, my husband!" And with that she flung herself into his arms and straddled him as she kissed him.
After a long blissful time the kiss ended, and Nate began to laugh softly.
"What is so funny?" she asked with a shy expression on her face that nearly stopped his heart.
"Well, when I first got to this here time and place I was talking with the soldiers I used to serve with, and the question came up as to what kind of women might be available for brides. Back in my time, different kinds of people didn't mix much, but some did, and I said that I wouldn't mind being the swain of an injun princess. And now, here I am, married to the closest thing to one you could find anywhere, or any time, for that matter! I figure I am a pretty darn lucky fella!"
"Indeed you are! I am not sure exactly what an 'injun princess' is, but it must be something special if I am one!"
"The word 'special' doesn't even begin to describe you." Nate paused, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I just realized, I don't even know your real name! I can't very well call my own wife 'The Raven Priestess' all the time, can I?"
She smiled, and took his hands in hers.
"I have many names, some so secret that I must not tell even you, Nate, although one day I most likely will. And there are also some I am not sure you would be able to pronounce yet, although your use of our tongue has improved greatly."
She pondered for a moment.
"I know! It has been so long since I've heard it, I almost forgot! It was my name when I was but a child, not really my real name, but one used by those who loved me best. Do you understand?
"Sure, a nickname! My mother used to call me 'Natty' when I was just a wee tyke, and you sure had better not tell the fellas that!"
"Natty? I like it, perhaps I should call you that?" she teased, eliciting a mournful grimace from him. "Very well, only when we are alone together. As for me, please call me Fala."
"Fala! Why that sure is pretty! What does it mean? I'll bet it means 'raven'!"
"It means 'crow', actually. I was not yet big enough to be a raven."
They both laughed and went back to kissing. This was just starting to progress into something more when Poppy nudged them both urgently, having determined it was safe to return to their sides. They broke off their embrace to comfort the still-frightened horse, petting her until she was calm and content enough to return to sampling the coarse local grass.
"I suppose it's best we get moving." Nate said, his voice holding some regret that whatever had been happening had been interrupted. "There could be more of those things, so let's beat it on home."
Fala took his hand and squeezed it tightly for a moment, a mysterious smile on her lips that held the promise of many joys to come.
"Yes, let's go home." She paused for a moment to relish that last word, then said "But first, we have a bit of work to do." She turned to the dead creature lying nearby.
"Dinner?" Nate asked, reaching for the long, skinning knife he kept on his belt.
"Indeed! There is much good meat here, we shall enjoy it as we celebrate tonight!" she took out a knife of her own, made of flint, but even sharper than Nate's steel edge, and began sawing away at the thing's neck. Nate watched, fascinated. When she reached the neck bone she severed it with surgical precision. Nate groaned, realizing now what she probably had in mind.
"Please tell me you aren't going to have that crazy old Ninak-Mkateewa make you a hat out of that thing's head!"
Fala, every bit still The Raven Priestess, rolled her eyes and shook her head in amusement at her new husband's lack of understanding of the finer things.
"Why of course I am! There is great power in this head, it is a gift from the gods! We faced The Eagle That Runs, and lived!"
****
When they arrived back at Nate's cabin, a sea of relieved faces met them. All had been worried, but none had dared intrude upon Great Chief Nate and the Raven Priestess’s personal affairs. T'cumu, Ni-T'o and Gonzalo gave Nate a good tousling, overjoyed that he had returned safely and that things had been repaired between their friend and his paramour.
"So, are you…?" Gonzalo asked, but trailed off shyly.
"Yes, we are married. Who would have ever thought that Nathan Theseus Tucker would win himself a bona fide injun princess? How about that, huh?"
"Congratulations!" Gonzalo told him, then hugged him tightly until Nate had to pry the effusive Spaniard off.
Ni-T'o and T'cumu gave their congratulations, exceedingly relieved to be off the hook for not warning Nate that he was about to enter into matrimony. Then they noticed the massive bird strapped to a woven-branch travois.
"What is that?" they asked, admiring the pretty gray and turquoise feathers.
"That is dinner. It was almost the other way around, but my lovely bride saved my skin. It was a pretty close shave. Please see that it gets cooked up nice, and we'll all share a drumstick. Anyway, I'll tell you the whole tale later, but right now I ache all over and need to go get cleaned up." His bride took that cue to join him at his side, grinning from ear to ear. They walked arm in arm to Nate's cabin, went inside, closed the door, and then the shutters. No one was too surprised when they didn't emerge for dinner, and the Raven Priestess’s cook set aside a generous portion of the delicious roasted bird for them to have for their breakfast.
To Be Continued . . .
Grantville Gazette, Volume 65 Page 19