The remainder of that night had been spent drinking hot buttered rum and tea and exchanging smal sentimental presents. There would be no old-fashioned Christmas with plum puddings and yule log, as they had planned. But she did have beautiful, wonderul memories no one could ever take from her. Alisha tried to sleep, but it would not come, for her mind was too ful of thoughts of those days and times. Time had slipped by swiftly after that night and spring was near. She vividly recaled the first buds on the trees, the early shoots of grass, the unfolding petals first buds on the trees, the early shoots of grass, the unfolding petals on impatient wildflowers, and the first warming of the sun after al the snow and ice were gone. The sky had never seemed clearer or bluer. The air had smeled fresh, crisp and clean. It was like witnessing the rebirth of nature in a virgin land of unexceled beauty. Her uncle had commented to her, “This land’s a woodsman’s delight, Lese.” It was abundant in lush green forests filed with elders, pines, spruces, red cedars, elms, ashes, poplars and others which even he could not name.
He had shouted excitedly, “Look, Lese! Wood for every need! Hard woods for furniture, homes and fences, and soft, pliable woods for carving everything we need or want.”
Game had once more become abundant. The hunters had had no problems bringing back plenty of meat. During their rest stops, the girls and women could pick wild berries and fruits to be used in delectable pies and desserts. The lengthening days gave more time and light for chores and socializing.
She recaled the loud cheering and joyous celebrating when they finaly reached their goal in May. None of them knew the war they had feared and fled had already begun back East. The first thing they had done was to set about building a strong, high fortress for protection. Then each family built a smal, one-room cabin. They had worked hard, long hours to finish before the violent thunderstorms, accompanied by hail, heavy rains, and crashing lightning, hit them. They had been told this was a common thing in June. The few storms Alisha had witnessed had been at a distance. She greatly feared violent storms.
She had thought the fortress a waste of time and energy, for the Indians she had seen and met had al been friendly. Bitterly, she added, it was a waste … it did not protect us or our homes. It added, it was a waste … it did not protect us or our homes. It might just as wel have been made of blades of grass. I thought the journey had forged me into a stronger, braver person. Where is al that courage and strength now? To think I actualy held a gun on my people to prevent the brave’s beating and death! How he must have laughed at me! This new land and search for freedom was not worth its cost. To think of al we sacrificed and endured … for what? To die! Those who died on the way here were lucky! They wil never know that al the sacrificing and suffering were futile. I wil never forget the day it al began to shatter
—the day I first met Wanmdi Hota!
She roled over on her side and faced the teepee, listening to the sounds of nightingales caling to their mates. Stilness settled in as the night darkened.
Chapter Six
Gray Eagle lifted the flap and entered his teepee. The fire had died down to glowing embers, casting a soft light inside the darkened teepee. His keen vision could make out Alisha’s form on his mat. Opalescent moonlight filtered down on her, creating a soft, romantic setting.
He moved over to a side pole to hang his weapons. He undressed and came to lie beside her. His alert senses had already told him she was not asleep. He remained stil for a time, relaxing and thinking. He roled to his side and propped up on his elbow, gazing down at her. Instantly, he saw her stiffen and alarm race across her face. She wanted to move away, but it was too late to feign slumber. Besides, it would not make any difference to him if he had other things on his mind.
He read her thoughts. She fears I wil take her roughly as before. No, Cinstinna. Tonight, I wil show you love and desire. She trembled as he leaned forward and kissed her. She spoke so softly he almost could not hear her. “Please, Wanmdi Hota, don’t hurt me again. Hiya …”
He puled her rigid body to him and began to kiss her. He pressed warm, moist lips to hers. Light kisses began to linger and deepen. He halted to remove her dress and breech cloth. She offered no resistance, for fear he would cut this one off, too. There was no doubt in her mind if he wanted it off, it would come off one way or another. She would rather be naked before him in private, than before his people.
than before his people.
“Please, hiya…” she pleaded against his lips as their naked bodies met. “Please, Wanmdi Hota, hiya…”
He raised his head and looked down into her terror-filed eyes. He spoke to her in a firm, husky voice, “Sha, Lese. Niye mitawa. Kokipi sni.” She did not understand his words, but his tone of voice and gentle mood had a soothing quality. She did not beg again, but tensely waited for him to continue.
His hands roamed over her quivering body with soft caresses. Combined with his fiery kisses, his touch made fires ignite and burn deep within her. This time was unlike the others. Why didn’t he just take her and stop this slow torment to her senses? What was he doing to her? What were these strange, tingling sensations inside her and al over her body?
Soon, she found it impossible to resist the emotions he was loosening within her. Nor could she stop them. She felt herself weakening and her resistance giving way to his lips and touch. His kiss and touch brought ecstasy and hunger she did not understand. Reality flooded her. He is using my own body against me! I must fight these feelings. I must not give in to him wilingly! I wil act the harlot for no man, especialy him! He has taken enough from me! I wil not give him my heart and soul as wel!
Her mind screamed warnings and rebelion to her traitorous body. Fight him, Lese! Don’t show a weakness for him. Resist! Be anything, but his lover! Slave, yes, prisoner, yes, lover, no, no, no…
But as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on her, she knew she was losing ground to his greater knowledge and vast experience. He is a savage! her mind screamed. Why does he make me feel this way? He wil only use me until he tires of me, and then cast me aside. Why doesn’t he hurry and be done? How much cast me aside. Why doesn’t he hurry and be done? How much longer can I fight this hunger for him? I must concentrate on other things—his cruelty, the dead, their suffering and pain, of anything but what he is doing to me…
Her breasts were swolen and firm and her nipples taut with passion and desire. When he teased or kissed them, she felt she would surely go mad if he did not soon possess her completely. She could not free her lips from his, nor her body from his grip. She could not stop the hands which started an aching deep in the pit of her being. Her pulse and heart raced madly with each other. Finaly, she could no longer restrain her desire for him nor could she reason with her conscience. She was as pliable as putty in his hands.
What did it matter anyway? He would take her, wiling or not. Why fight him? Why resist him? These feelings which refused to be queled tore at her reason. His kisses and touches had whetted her love-starved appetite, and it demanded to be fed and sated. She couldn’t understand how he could hold off like this. She could feel his heated ardor. Was he only teasing her? Was he showing her he had complete power and control over her in every way? He was tantalize her to the brink of begging for fulfilment. She was his prey, and he devoured her with his hunger. She wanted … she needed… what? She did not know for sure. At last, he heard what he had been waiting and working for,
“Sha … sha, Wanmdi Hota. Sha, sha .. .” she moaned the words out in final defeat and desperation.
He moved to top her, parting her unresisting thighs with his knees, and gently entered her. She inhaled deeply as he filed her. His thrusts were slow and deep. Her resistance sank lower, until their lovemaking was the only reality to her. She moaned softly as their lovemaking was the only reality to her. She moaned softly as she was caught up in the heat of passion. She didn’t know when her arms had encircled his back and embraced him tightly. Her lips and body responded feverishly to his kisses and nonver
bal instructions. Passion climbed higher and higher. Soon, his thrusts increased in depth and speed. As she molded herself to him, it happened, for the first time. As the shock of release came, her eyes flew open wide and she stared into his. There was no pain this time, only the sweet passion and pleasure they had bespoken. He smiled down into her astonished face as his lips reclaimed hers. Waves and waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Together, they rode the crest of passion-filed waves until they had subsided. Afterwards, they lay spent, breathing heavily.
Suddenly, ful comprehension came to her of her unbridled behavior and what had just taken place between them. She fought to pul away in shame and anger at herself and him, but he held her tightly and securely, refusing to release her.
“Hiya, Lese,” he said firmly. She ceased her futile struggles and lay limp in his embrace.
She cried out weakly, “What have I done? Why did I let you make me act like some… like some… oh-h-h! You’re mean and cruel. How could I let you, of al men, make love to me? How did you force me to lose control and respond to you like that? Wel, never again! I’l never submit to you again. Never!”
The wild spouting of words ended, but he stil held her and would not let her go. She was totaly bewildered by her fierce abandonment, but more so by the emotions and pleasures she had just experienced with him.
She struggled again. “Let me go! I can’t sleep like this, with you touching and holding me. Leave me be! Hiya, Wanmdi Hota,”
you touching and holding me. Leave me be! Hiya, Wanmdi Hota,”
her last few words spoken with intense pleading in her voice. Tears of self-betrayal and anger slid down her flushed, rosy cheeks until she finaly relaxed in his embrace and went to sleep. She slept peacefuly and was stil al night in his powerful arms. He smiled into the darkness, knowing she did not possess the knowledge to resist him, nor the wilpower. He gazed down into her sleeping face and tenderly pushed little wisps of hair from her dampened forehead.
“Waste cedake.” He suddenly realized he had spoken the very words he had feared to think or feel, that he loved her…
For the next few weeks, it.was as if there was an unspoken truce between them, during the days. He was not the harsh, cruel master to her, and she behaved as a perfect slave, doing al the things expected of her without defiance and showing great ability and inteligence in her strange new life and surroundings. But each night she fought his touch, kiss and lovemaking until he overcame her resistance, and then she would cling to him passionately in surrender and hunger. Emotions she had never felt before were alive and in ful play. Gray Eagle did not seem to object to her resistance in his mats. In fact, he relished the nightly duel of wils and her final defeat each time. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but her pride and honor forced her to hide this from him and even from herself.
“In time …” he would muse to himself each night.
It was the Indian custom for captives to be turned over to the women to be taught chores or for punishment to be meted out to disobedient slaves. But Gray Eagle chose to keep Alisha to himself, alowing no one else to conquer her spirit. If he could not manage to be with her or nearby, he would have Matu or White Arrow be with her or nearby, he would have Matu or White Arrow accompany her around the vilage or to the forest. This unusual situation was quickly noted by many of the women and warriors. Only his great respect and honor, along with her total submission and obvious value and beauty, prevented any open talk or taunts. Without her knowing, his people began to see her lack of contempt and hatred for them. Reluctantly, they came to accept her presence. Only Chela and Matu refused to look past her skin color and position in Gray Eagle’s life to see the woman Alisha. Even though no one spoke to her or acknowledged her, she was not treated cruely or taunted, and for this she was thankful. It seemed to her that she was invisible to everyone except Gray Eagle, White Arrow, Chela and Matu, but she was wrong. She was noticed by envious women who saw her in Gray Eagle’s teepee and at his side, and by the other warriors who agreed with his good luck at finding such a prize. He received many offers for her in trade, but lightly turned them down. His spirit would soar with pride at those times. She was indeed a rare prize, fit for the son of a chief. If only she were not white…
When Matu was busy and Gray Eagle was out hunting or gone on a raid, she would be left in White Arrow’s care. As the days passed, she found herself spending more and more time with him. She found it easy to respect and like him. He seemed the only person who liked her and viewed her as a friend, not a slave. She felt completely at ease in his presence, and he in hers. He had never known it would be pleasant to be with a winyan, especialy one who was an enemy. He was soon very fond of her and enjoyed her company over his own kind. Acceptance and friendship came quickly and easily between them. Within days, he found himself wanting more.
wanting more.
With her smal Indian vocabulary and signs, they could almost talk to each other. He would catch himself smiling or laughing with her when she struggled with his tongue. Once she was filing the mni skins and leaned over too far and tumbled into the stream with a big splash. Another time she was caught in the briars while gathering berries. She did not get angry at him for laughing at her. Instead, she usualy laughed at herself with good humor and honesty. She was alive and vital, one who enjoyed life with its ups and downs. She found happiness and joy in the smalest of things. White Arrow recaled the time she made him climb the thorny wanhu tree to return a baby bird to its nest. Or the time she tricked him into releasing the beautiful, colorful pheasant he had snared. She possessed a tender heart and did not like to see anything or anyone suffer. Since this was an intricate part of his religion and beliefs, it pleased him greatly. He came to respect and admire her more and more for these qualities and traits.
Sometimes when al her chores were finished she would run through the meadow chasing the wind, or butterflies, or picking wildflowers. Once, she had made a headband of flowers and placed it on his head. She had merrily danced around him, bowing and laughing, caling him a “wasichu chief.” Only his dignity as a warrior had kept him from joining her playful behavior and game. He enjoyed watching her eyes sparkle with life, and listening to her voice ringing with laughter. He was alert and quick to notice she preferred his company and guard over others, and was the most relaxed and happy around him. When they would return to the vilage, or others were around, she would adopt an air of respect and reserve. She had never brought embarrassment or taunts to him for her attitude or behavior toward him. His heart would warm with for her attitude or behavior toward him. His heart would warm with admiration and love for her because of her concern for his honor. He would seek some smal way to repay her kindness. White Arrow did not realize Alisha’s demure actions were brought about by her fear of the others’ intolerance and misunderstanding of their closeness. True, she did not wish him to be taunted for his acceptance and friendship; but she feared their taunts would halt their friendship and happy times. She knew she must not make herself a burden to him, or he might withdraw his affection, leaving her totaly alone in this demesne. She became more and more aware daily of what White Arrow and his friendship meant to her. She did not want to do anything, anything, to dampen or destroy it.
Without knowing how or when, White Arrow came to accept her as his koda and Gray Eagle’s winyan. He no longer thought of her as a wasichu, but he tried not to think of her in other ways. He found he had to remind himself constantly that she was his best friend’s woman. It would bring great shame to him and dishonor to his friend if he alowed himself to forget this for a minute. He would sometimes find himself wishing she were the slave of another, for then he would not feel guilt at taking her or wanting her. If she had been the slave of an enemy, he would dare any danger to go and steal her for himself. The more he was with her, and the more he came to know and understand her, the harder it became to pul back from her emotionaly. Stil, he knew he must.
What did he care if some of the warriors taunted him
about being a man who watches over winyans and kaskapis? He would grin and chide them for their envy. They would al laugh and jokingly chalenge him for his coveted position. Soon, it became a joke they played and enjoyed, knowing White Arrow’s courage and daring played and enjoyed, knowing White Arrow’s courage and daring were beyond reproach. Luckily, White Arrow was an easy-going man and did not mind their jesting, serious or not. One warm, sunny afternoon, he explained his pet name for her. He had never caled her Lese or Alisha as she had told him many times. He would cal her “Pi-Zi Ista.” She did not know what it meant, but came to answer to it. She was sitting by the stream with her bare feet dangling in the water. She turned to him and asked, “Pi-Zi Ista?”
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. He puled up a handful of grass and pointed to it, saying, “Pi-zi.” He then pointed to her eyes and said, “Ista.” Pointing to the grass first, then her eyes, he put the two words together, “Pi-Zi Ista.”
She looked bewildered for a moment, thinking, grass … eyes
…
She exclaimed in delight, “Grass Eyes!”
Her green eyes had looked like grass to him and he had chosen to cal her this. “Sha,” she said, smiling her pleasure at his choice. “Pi-Zi Ista … Sha.”
He stood up and caled to her, “Ku-wa, Pi-Zi Ista.”
She smiled up at him and rose to folow. “Sha, Wanhinkpe Ska.” They both laughed at her way of saying his name. “I should give you another name, too. Something easier to say, like Daniel or Brandon. How about Sapa Ista?” He grinned, knowing she had made some reference to his black eyes. He walked on with her folowing close behind.
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