Soaring Eagle's Embrace

by Karen Kay

  The next day, Old Man sent again a beautiful maiden into Strong Arrow’s path. But this time there was a difference. This woman looked so much like Evening Star that Strong Arrow hesitated, confused.

  Seeing this, the woman spoke, saying, “Take pity on me. For you are my own brother-in-law. My name is Bright Shadow. I, too, am a star, and like my sister, I desire a good husband.”

  “I cannot take you as a wife,” Strong Arrow responded.

  “And yet it is your right to have me.”

  “No,” said Strong Arrow. “It is not. I gave up that right when I married your sister.”

  “Yet,” said Bright Shadow, “I need your help. Do not ask how, but my own future depends on you. If you take me with you, I could aid you in becoming glorious in war.”

  Strong Arrow sneered. “You waste your breath, woman,” he said. “For if it is my home that you seek, I cannot help you.”

  “Could you not?” she asked. “Think well, my brother-in-law. If you do me this small favor, I could give you much. I could assist you to become the best hunter in your village.”

  “I already am the best.” And so saying, Strong Arrow began to walk away from the woman.

  “Please,” came again the maiden’s plea.

  Strong Arrow glanced over his shoulder. “I do not need or desire glory, or another wife,” he called to her. “I love the one that I have.”

  Bright Shadow stared at Strong Arrow, and her eyes narrowed before she commented, “Then you make a mistake, my brother-in-law, for you will surely bring pain to my sister if you do not take me with you.”

  This statement gave Strong Arrow reason to pause. Coming to a halt, he looked back at the maiden. “What falsehoods are these that you tell me?”

  Bright Shadow took a step toward him. “I do not utter untruths. I am in trouble,” she said, her gaze at Strong Arrow full of appeal. “I am with child, and my father, the Sun, says that there is no room in the sky for another star, my baby. Alas, my father has sent me here upon this earth to bear this child alone. But I am frightened. All I wish to do is see my sister, that she might care for me.”

  Strong Arrow hesitated, and turning so that he faced the maiden, he looked deeply into Bright Shadow’s eyes. “If this is all you desire, why did you try to seduce me?”

  Bright Shadow cast her eyes down. “Because I am afraid to be alone, and I thought this might be the only way to beseech you.”

  Strong Arrow frowned, and it is said that he puzzled over what to do. Duty to a woman in Bright Shadow’s condition would not allow him to walk away from her; however, he also could not bow down to her pleas, for he knew well the consequences of his actions. What was he to do?

  He hesitated but a moment before making his decision, and then, lifting his face up to the skies, he shouted, “Do you understand this, Old Man? Do you see that I am taking pity on your other daughter, who is with child? Know that I do not take her to my home as a wife. I take her only to be with her sister.” And with this said, Strong Arrow grabbed hold of Bright Shadow.

  Yes, his intentions were honorable, yet in doing what he did, Strong Arrow sealed his fate. For though he could not have made any other choice—not and remain perfect—with this decision came disaster. He never arrived home.

  A thunderstorm came suddenly upon Strong Arrow and Bright Shadow, causing Strong Arrow to seek shelter. And though his intentions were decent toward his wife’s sister, a man is, after all, but a man…

  Meanwhile, it took little enough time for Evening Star to discover her husband’s betrayal.

  A tribe of visiting Crees, seeing the wealth and laziness of Strong Arrow’s people, defeated them in battle, taking Evening Star as their own. And doing so, they fled.

  Perhaps it was not Old Man’s doing what happened next. Some kind folk say that it was not. Others, however, tell a different story.

  By some trick of fate, the victorious Crees, en route to their own home and bringing Evening Star with them, came upon Strong Arrow and his ward where the two of them had sought shelter. Strong Arrow had no choice but to fight the enemy, and fight he did, well and hard, for unlike the others in his village, Strong Arrow had never failed to take to the hunt each day, and his body was lean and fit. But the outcome was inevitable. There was only one of him against ten Cree warriors.

  Seeing this, Evening Star was overcome with grief, as well as with conflict. On one hand, she cried out. For she realized, as she watched the combat, that her husband would die this night.

  However, even as her heart broke, Evening Star knew jealousy. For there by Strong Arrow’s side lay her sister, plus the evidence of his treachery…

  Still, as Evening Star beheld the enemy’s knife come down to stab into Strong Arrow’s heart, she knew she could not watch. She waved her hand, causing the mortals to freeze.

  “What am I to do?” she pleaded toward the midnight sky, opening her arms wide. “Oh, Father, my husband and I were so happy. Why did you do this to us? For I know this is your work.”

  But it was night.

  “Your father is not here to hear your pleas, my daughter. He is on the other side of the world.” It was Old Woman who spoke, she who is Night Light, the Moon.

  “Yes, Mother,” answered Evening Star. “In my grief, I forgot that he is gone. But please, what am I to do?”

  Old Woman paused. “It is indeed a bad thing that has come to pass,” she said. “I fear that your father forgets that men are but mortals. My daughter, what is it you would like me to do?”

  “I…I am uncertain.”

  “Do you love your husband?”

  “I…yes, I did…once…”

  “Perhaps you should understand that your father tested Strong Arrow to the utmost, and he tempted him greatly. Your sister looked exactly as you do, and your husband was bringing her back to camp, not to take her in marriage, but to bear her to you for help. She told him she is with child.”

  “With child? Oh, Mother, if she is with child, she should have come to me directly instead of—”

  “As I said, this was your father’s work. It was also your husband’s plan to bring her to you, not to bed her.”

  Evening Star sighed. “That may be so. However, it is clear that he failed in this, too.”

  “Yes, he did,” said Old Woman. “Perhaps your husband is not as perfect as he would like us to believe.”

  “You are right, my mother. I was wrong to think he could be as pure as a star. Only we who are gods and goddesses are without flaw.”

  “Are we?”

  “Yes, of course we are. But Mother, this talk gets us nowhere. Though I might abhor what my husband has done, I do not wish to see this, the end of his existence. Alas, perhaps I have loved him too well. Is there nothing I can do? You can do?”

  “There is nothing,” said Old Woman. “Only your father can change what is to take place.”

  Evening Star sighed. “Then I will lose Strong Arrow forever.”

  “Yes, although…”

  “Although?”

  “There is one enchantment that is within my power. It would save his life, but it is not without risk.”

  “Risk means nothing to me.”

  “Very well, my daughter, but first let me explain. While the charm would save him, it might doom you.”

  “Me? I think not, Mother. Nothing can harm me. I am a star, and unlike these mortals, I am proof against anything.”

  “As you say, my daughter. Still, the spell might yet come to be a test.”

  “A test?” asked Evening Star. Now as we all know, a god or goddess can little resist a challenge, and so she uttered, “Tell me more, my mother.”

  “The only way I can keep your father’s curse from taking its natural course is to have your husband trade places with you.”

  “With me? I would become mortal?”

  “I am afraid so, my daughter.”

  But Evening Star was barely listening. She had paced toward Strong Arrow, reaching out a hand to touch the pow
erful line of his jaw. Bending, she whispered to him, “Why—why did you do it? How could you betray me when I have loved you so greatly?”

  “My daughter, our time grows short.”

  Evening Star stepped around the inert and silent figure of her husband and, casting him one last look, lifted her sight to the midnight sky. She asked, “Is it because of my belief in my own perfection that you are able to do this?”

  “Yes, my child.”

  “Then say no more, my mother. I will become mortal, if for no other reason than to prove that I can do it. But how long must I remain this way?”

  Old Woman cried, “There is but one place in the sky for the evening star, my daughter, and if I am to save him, your husband must take that place until…”

  A long pause followed. “Yes?”

  “…until a future time when you will both return to the same spot on Chief Mountain—the place where you first met.”

  “That is simple enough.”

  “Have a care, my daughter, for it is required that you remain chaste in order to return. However, if you can do it, if you can remain innocent, you and your husband will be given another chance: you to understand him, he to beg forgiveness. If you both can do this, all will be well. If you cannot…” There came a drop of rain upon the earth. “Oh, that I could do more than this for you, my daughter.”

  But Evening Star was unafraid. “Do not fret,” she said to her mother. “I will prove how easy this is. Go on, my mother. Go on and do it.”

  Tears began to fall in earnest from the sky. And in Old Woman’s voice was nothing but grief as she said, “Understand, my child, that you will have no memory of this, nor will he.”

  Evening Star thought for some moments, her mind turning over images of the warmth of her beautiful home; remembering again the love of her mother, her father, her sisters. To never see them again…

  But upon this thought came another. Did she have so little faith in herself that she could not submit to a dare?

  At last she said, “Do it, my mother. Bring him into the sky, but do it quickly.”

  “There is one last thing I must tell you, my daughter. Look to the land, to the mountains, for your heart’s desire. For it is in the mountains that the spirits reside. They will help you.”

  “I will,” said Evening Star.

  “Remember, too, your lover’s song; for you will know him by it, and he you.”

  “I understand.”

  And so it came to pass that Strong Arrow was taken into the evening sky, there to shine brightly upon the earth, while his own true love became doomed to an earthly life.

  There are some who say that on a night such as this, when the moon shines so brightly in the sky, that Old Woman searches the mountains, looking for she who is her true daughter, listening for her song. But alas, it is also said that the true Evening Star must have failed the test of chastity, for in all this time, she has not returned.

  Still, there are those who hope…

  Chapter Two

  Sun is (their) supreme god of earth and sky…

  —James Willard Schultz, Blackfeet and Buffalo

  A nighthawk squawked in the distance, while closer to hand the crickets kept up a constant serenade. However, their noise did much to accentuate the stillness in the camp.

  Kali stared out in front of her, noting that the fire had long since died away, leaving a frost in the air, a crispness which helped to revive her, as though she had been lost in a daze. Shaking herself, she said, “Then Evening Star and Strong Arrow will never be able to be reunited? She failed her test of chastity?”

  “No one knows,” Gilda replied. “But there…some in tribe who say that Old Man, seeing what his mischief brought, and fearing his daughter could not remain untouched, interceded. And so…legend goes on to say, someday Evening Star will return to mountain. And when she does, she must listen for his song.”

  “Hmmm. That is a powerful legend, Gilda, isn’t it? His song…” Kali stared off into the night. Suddenly she smiled. “You are a very interesting guide, Gilda Shadow Runner. And I will have to admit that although my father and I were skeptical of hiring a female as our escort, you have certainly proved yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So tell me, Gilda, do you spin this story to all the young ladies who come to this mountain?”

  “There…not many of our gender who would venture to climb mountain.”

  “No,” said Kali, “I suppose not. And now that you mention it, I don’t mind telling you that I am well tired out from our hike to get here.” Turning, Kali settled down to snuggle deeper into her sleeping blankets, puffing the warmth of the wool over her head. “That’s a fascinating story, yet—”

  Thud! Crash! Clank!

  “What was that?” Throwing off the blanket and sitting up, Kali glanced around her.

  “Rocks falling. Wind…strong tonight.”

  “I see. By the way, are you certain we’ve done everything we need to in order to keep bears away from our camp?”

  “You put away cooking gear as I told you?”

  Kali nodded. It wasn’t that she was afraid of bears—not necessarily. Her concern was generated more from the fact that she wanted to be assured that she had done everything she could do strategically to avoid a bad situation. She said, “I washed them in a stream, wrapped them up in towels and put them in a basket in the wagon.”

  “That be fine, then,” Gilda said as her dark braids fell over her shoulders. “It late in summer, and the bears…not hungry at this time of year—they not out looking for food.” Gilda nodded. “We…get sleep now. Have long day ahead, if you and your father wish to get good pictures of mountain.” She glanced up briefly at the sky. “It should be beautiful day tomorrow.”

  Kali stretched out her slender five-foot-five frame upon the ground and pulled up the covers. Looking up, she stared at a sky which appeared to boast millions of stars. “Which star is it, by the way?”

  Gilda pointed. “The bright one closest to horizon—does white woman see it?”

  “Hmmm, yes. And please, Gilda, you can call me Kali. Do you think the two lovers will ever find one another again?”

  “I hope that it…be so.”

  “Really? Why do you hope so?” Kali shifted, turning and coming up onto an elbow so that she could look into Gilda’s midnight-black eyes.

  As the two women stared at one another, there across the embers of a dying fire, an awkward silence hung between them. “Because,” Gilda said carefully, “a person should never live without hope. Besides, it beautiful legend, and legends need have happy endings, I think.”

  Kali sat forward and shook her head, reaching up to remove a hairpin from her coiffure. She set it on the ground, there on top of a few other pins. “Do you think,” she asked, “that Evening Star would ever be able to forgive him?”

  “No one knows.” A brief pause followed, and then, “Would you?”

  Kali sighed, bending forward to reach beneath the blanket and unbutton the gaiters which covered her shoes. “I don’t know,” she said. “It would be a rather difficult thing to do, wouldn’t it? After all, how could she ever trust the man again?”

  “But why not? After all this time…gone by?”

  Kali looked up at Gilda. “He did betray her.”

  “Yes. However, Old Man tempt him overmuch, and Strong Arrow be, after all, only a man.”

  Kali shook out the last of the hairpins, delighting in the feel of her long tresses as they fell down over her shoulders. After a moment she began to brush out her hair, using her fingers as a comb.

  “But he was perfect, wasn’t he? Or at least he thought so. And being perfect, he should have done something differently… He should have walked away from Bright Shadow.”

  “Even when she pregnant?”

  “Was she really with child, or was that a ploy?”

  “She truly be pregnant.”

  “And Old Man cast her out of the sky?”

  Gilda nodded.


  “What an odd thing for a father to do,” said Kali, almost to herself.

  “Old Man sometimes mischievous.”

  “Yes, I would say that must be true. Still I don’t quite agree that Evening Star should be duty bound to forgive Strong Arrow,” said Kali. “I’m not certain that I could. Oh, I’ll admit that there was an age, years ago, when it was the custom for a man to have several mistresses. But that was a very long time ago. Our modem woman wouldn’t stand for such a thing. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Kali added when she espied Gilda’s long face. “It would be horribly romantic if they were to be reunited, wouldn’t it? But I daresay it might also be the height of folly if she were to take him back.”

  “Folly? Why folly?”

  “He did betray her,” Kali repeated, then gasped as a loud rustling sound came from behind her. She turned over, if only to stare down into the rocky terrain for a moment. “Excuse me, Gilda, but are you really certain I’ve done everything I should to prevent a bear attack?”

  “Aa,” said Gilda. “That means ‘yes’ in…language of my people. Since before I walk, my family has come here to mountain—every summer. Not bears, not wolves have attacked in all that time, not mountain lions, too. I tell you true that I know no person of my tribe who has been attacked by bear.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Gilda nodded. “It true. Perhaps it because animals are familiar with the scent of my people. Bears have strong sense of smell. Maybe we have been here for so long that they think we part of land. Perhaps to them, we…not enemy.”

  “But I would be, wouldn’t I?” Kali grinned. “Do you think if a bear ever came our way, I could point to you and say, ‘friend’?”

  Gilda laughed. “White woman could try, but I not certain it…work. Besides scent, there not much similarity between us. Your hair too red, your eyes too green and your skin too light. Would it help if I tell you what to do if bear…attack?”

  “Maybe.”

  “My grandfather once told me that a person, no matter how fast of foot, should never try…outrun a bear, for bear can travel swifter than horse. There be one exception, however, and that is if you…lucky enough to be able to run downhill. Bear not so surefooted then and cannot run as easily or as swiftly as you.”