by Adair, Mary
Soon, every one of them was fighting someone. In addition to the one that had tried creeping up the creek, there were three Spaniards and two other Choctaw braves. If not for Raven Cloud's careful selection of a campsite, they might have been lost. It was difficult for the enemy to see into the thicket, and moving through the brambles was difficult and painful. Thorns grabbed at the heavy clothes of the Spanish and gashed the bare skin of the Choctaw.
They had been forced to rush in when Hawk stabbed their would-be assassin, and now they were already wounded and aching by the time they made it close to the clearing near the creek. What's more, the light was still too low to depend entirely on eyesight. One of the Spaniards had fired his rifle, but the shot went wild.
Raven yanked at the feet of one of the Spaniards trying to push through the thicket. He sent the man flying backward, slamming him to the ground. Raven dragged at the opponent's foot to pull him into the clearing, dispatching him quickly with a twisted stab up the throat.
Hawk had finished off the first assailant and joined with one of the other Cherokee to drag a Spaniard away from choking one of them to death. Amidst gasps for air, they managed to pull a loaded rifle from the man's grasp and fire it point-blank at its owner.
The third Spaniard turned to run as he saw the fate of his two countrymen. He tried to run away straight through the brambles, but was caught by their vicious thorns. Realizing his predicament, he turned with difficulty, raising his rifle to fend off any that might attack him.
Soft-Spoken Hawk slung his knife at the Spaniard, preventing a shot that would have torn two of the Cherokee braves to shreds.
The second Choctaw knocked Raven Cloud to the side with a blow that made his head ring. He had trouble standing up, vision blurring. Raven saw Hawk reaching to retrieve his knife from the dead Spaniard, and the Choctaw sprang on his friend's back and wrapped an arm around the young-man's throat.
The other two Cherokee warriors were having trouble getting rid of the last Choctaw. Raven Cloud struggled to push himself up, time slowing around him. Rushing forward, he leapt at Hawk's attacker.
Spinning to face Raven's attack, the Choctaw held Hawk's bloody knife. Soft-Spoken Hawk fell to the ground. Another battle ensued, bodies colliding as Raven sank a knee into the killer's gut. Somehow, both knives were knocked aside.
Raven Cloud was slamming his fist into the Choctaw brave's chest when the other two Cherokee pulled him away from the dying.
“It is done, Raven Who Flies To Meet With The Clouds. All of our opponents have been killed.”
The day's light was just beginning to filter through the heavy cover of trees and brush. It was hardly morning, and the ambush had already come and gone. They had not been able to capture any of the enemy, and Soft-Spoken Hawk was dead.
Raven's blood still pounded in his skull, anger flooding his every sense. He went to those he had killed, scalping them with a vicious yank. He felt responsible for this. They had let him lead them to this place, and now one of them had been killed. Breathing hard, he fought for control. Stripping, he dunked himself in the creek as well as he could, trying to wash away the anger.
Eventually, they all finished scalping the enemy, cleansing wounds, and recovering from the early morning attack. Everyone put on a solemn face, but anger hid just behind their eyes.
Raven Cloud crouched down beside the body of his friend, Soft-Spoken Hawk, “We will return to the village and perhaps now we will be able to convince others that a larger party is needed. Soft-Spoken Hawk's family must know of his death. I have no stomach to leave the body of our friend among these cowards. We must carry him home as bestows a great warrior. ”
The group was in agreement. After carefully withdrawing from the thicket, they took a direct route back toward Chota Town. They had dark news to deliver.
Chapter Ten
He Who Dances In Battle called to answer the blood cry immediately. His younger brother had been a good warrior, and many mourned the loss of one whose future had seemed so bright. The bride-to-be of Soft-Spoken Hawk wrapped bandages around her arms though her face was unreadable.
Raven was about to go in search of Dawn when he saw her standing a short distance from the crowd. He knew at once that she stood back so he would be able to spot her. She smiled and gave him a slow, small nod. He returned the gesture, knowing she told him she was well and happy to see his safe return. Seeing his little Funny Face gave him strength of purpose. He fought for his family.
Raven Cloud turned his attention back to the Chief. He wanted to be among those who would go with Dances in Battle. He offered to do so, and was surprised when many agreed that his choice was a good one. After the burial ceremony all the braves as well as New Moon gathered with the Chief in the council lodge. The women who attended sat behind and a little back from the braves that gathered to give a full account of their mission.
Raven’s mistakes made during the hunt were no longer mentioned and seemed to have lost importance. He knew, of course, this was not true. They had merely lessoned in priority. He could admit to himself now that the experience had been valuable. Had not Uncle told him over and over again, a warrior’s strength is in his love for Ani Yunwiya, The People.
He reasoned in his mind and in his heart the possible consequences of his actions. Dawn and Small Thunder could have been hurt or even killed. Dawn’s skill of covering her trail alone could have cost her life. The thought of death brought Hawk to mind. He blamed himself while he also knew he had chosen well in the campsite.
The other braves that had been along spoke well of Hawk, and Raven. They attributed much of their survival to Raven Cloud's leadership. None found fault in his leadership or skill in battle and to him, far more surprising was that none seemed to blame him for Hawk's death.
Climbing Bear and New Moon had been back for a day before Raven Cloud's group had returned. Because of their story, the presence of rogue Choctaw and Spanish men was not as surprising to the village. Still, it was troubling news.
At least four Spaniards had already been killed, and several Choctaw. How many more were lurking in the woods? It seemed likely that this all had to do with Red Panther's disappearance. Raven's warning had spoken of mercenaries that might attack. This was much like warring with the French had been. Those foreigners too had set walled forts in the woods, attacking whom they wished and stealing away people without reservation.
A day after Raven returned to Chota Town, Derek returned from the mission he'd been given. Truthfully, it had been New Moon's errand, but her name was not mentioned. The trader had been at the trading post for quite some time, and there was beginning to be question as to whether he'd been able to retrieve any information. Moon was tense and Golden Dawn unusually quiet.
In the Chief's lodge, a group gathered to decide on the next course of action. There would be a blood cry, that was unquestionable. The chosen warriors were already preparing, forgoing food, and ridding themselves of any stray hairs. However, they would gather their information together and choose the best path for the warriors to take.
Derek Smith sat with them this time, enjoying a long drag from his own pipe as the others spoke. They were leading into his information, New Moon mentioning that he had been sent to find out what he could from the other traders.
He leaned forward, pipe resting idly in hand, “So yes, I was able to figure out a couple of things that might help us. You see, there's been talk of Spaniards in the area lately, and several have been seen buying goods for a tidy sum of people.”
Chief Dancing Cloud frowned, “How many is this sum?”
Derek grimaced back, forgetting himself for a moment and meeting eyes with the chief. He jerked his gaze to a random spot on the wall before continuing, “Ah, the goods they were buying suggest at least a good company of men; twenty or so. However, as some of you have seen, they have apparently hired some rogue Choctaw that are no longer associated with any clans. Some were seen at the trading post with the Spanish.”
&n
bsp; He Who Dances In Battle clenched and unclenched his fists, staring into the fire, “It will not matter, we will find where they hide and overwhelm them with numbers, skill, and ferocity.”
Here, Derek couldn't help but smile, “Fortunately, I think I can help with that whole hideaway part.” He pulled a folded bit of paper from one of his pouches, hardly more than a scrap, “I found this at one of the taverns. I believe it might be a map.”
Raven Cloud and New Moon took the scrap of paper, eyeing it carefully to try and decipher the crude marks. It was rough, but the trading post and Chota Town were well outlined. It seemed to match up with what they'd found in their search.
“This is accurate,” said New Moon, handing the paper to Dances In Battle, “If we had continued along the trails we followed in the woods, we would have found a place near there.”
Raven Cloud nodded, “I agree. Had we traveled for only another day, we would have come upon their main camp. I feel that we can depend on this to be true.”
Derek beamed.
The conversation slipped into English at one moment, then lapsed back into the beautiful speech of the Cherokee for the next hour. They spoke softly, calmly, but the firelight was not the only thing that burned in their eyes. A plan began to take shape.
Late that evening, the group inside of the lodge finally began to leave. Many were stiff from the long hours of sitting in on the discussion. There were still ceremonies in preparation and chores to be tended. As Raven stood to depart, Dancing Cloud gestured that he stay. Soon, only the two of them remained inside. Even the chief's wife and child were outside, preparing a meal and drawing water.
“Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds,” the elder spoke in contemplation, as if considering the meanings interwoven in that name, “The Raven is a symbol for messenger, and you brought the message to The Principal People so we would be forewarned and ready. You have been brave and have shown great strength when protecting The Principal People.”
Raven stared at his Chief's shoulder, “Yet, you are not happy with me, do not know what to think of me and the way I am?”
“Oh, so you are telling me my own mind? You know what a man thinks, why should other men even bother to speak?”
“I... forgive me, Chief Dancing Cloud.”
The chief chuckled, shaking his head, “Here is where you do confuse me, child. You work so hard to be as one of the Principal People, yet white man's ways are ingrained into you. One moment you apologize for being white, the next you apologize for being Cherokee.”
Raven found it hard to swallow being called a child, but the next words went beyond stinging him, “I do not apologize for being one of the Principal People.” He gritted his teeth, fighting to control another rush of anger.
“What is it that causes you so much fear? Why are you always so close to exploding, as if you were a bear infected with old steel?”
The young brave felt defeated by the words, and his proud-shoulders sagged, “I do not believe that I can be as I should be.” His voice hardened, “I truly begin to wonder at my purpose, my place.”
Dancing Cloud's face was grim, “Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds, I am not angry with you. Truly. I worry. You worry so much, lash out so readily, many do not know what to think of you. They find you brave, they have seen your battle prowess, and yet they wonder if you might attack one of them for a misplaced word.”
Raven Cloud took a deep breath, trying to straighten his shoulders, “Are you prohibiting me from joining for the blood cry? Is that what this is about?”
Silence filled the room, and here Dancing Cloud stared straight into Raven's eyes, unblinking. Time stretched in the quiet, and the fire's crackling life was the only sound. Finally, the chief spoke, “I will not prevent you from going on this blood cry, but I think you must find your place soon, young warrior.” He rubbed his chin, gaze falling to the flames, “Perhaps you should consider that this is not where you should be.”
Raven grunted, feeling as if he'd been struck physically. It was not an order to leave the village, but it was a strong suggestion that he might want to. He stood up slowly, “I will consider this.”
Dancing Cloud frowned as he watched the young man leave the tent.
***
Derek Smith sat at the edge of a fire under a clear sky. Stars were scattered across the great blue above him, their glow surpassing the brilliance of the flames below. Golden Dawn sat across from him next to her mother, New Moon's gaze one of a person lost in thought. Farthest Running Antelope was there as well, another who would answer the blood cry.
They sat near the council house at the head of the ball field, the large open expanse where ceremonies and games were held. Several groups were out here on that night, some for purposes of mourning, and others for purposes of preparation for the war party. It was mostly quiet now, talk and activity dying down as many readied to go to their lodges for sleep.
Derek's eyes widened as a shooting star leapt across the sky, and he pointed up to follow it, “There, do you see it?”
Dawn peered up, following the streaking light with bright eyes, “I have been told that such are great strange creatures,” she spread her arms as wide as she could, “There bodies are round and covered in downy feathers. Perhaps that one looks for a lost loved one?” Her gaze flicked toward New Moon, but the comment hardly seemed to register.
Moon was conflicted. She wanted to run with the warriors again so as to help find her husband. However, she worried that Dawn might follow as on Raven's hunt, and then there was the question of what would happen if her son and daughter lost their mother while Panther was missing. New Moon would not risk leaving her children without parents. She would stay behind despite the ache she felt to do otherwise.
Derek was smiling at the stars, oblivious to the interplay between mother and daughter, “Oh, if the twinkles of the sky are feathered beasts, then why are they so bright above?”
Dawn's expression lightened, worry for her parent's pushed to the side. There was nothing she could do about it. Instead, she grinned, “It is said that showers of sparks erupt from under their feathers when ruffled by the wind.” Dawn pointed upward, “That's why you see the trail when one of them is chasing something across the sky. The sparks take a bit to go out.”
Derek laughed, “Oh is that it? I suppose that's why the whole Milky Way is full of them.”
Shaking her head, “Of course not, silly. That's where the dog ran!”
Antelope nodded toward Derek, “It is known. A great dog stole cornmeal, yet was caught while trying to escape with its dishonest prize. Running from pursuers, the creature scattered the meal as it raced away in flight.”
Suddenly, Golden Dawn jumped up as she saw Raven Cloud leaving the chief's lodge, “There you are. We were wondering where you'd gone.”
Raven Cloud could not help but smile, Dawn was the brightest part of his life right now, “Don’t worry, Funny Face. I just had to speak with Dancing Cloud for a moment.” Walking up beside Dawn, they both took a seat next to Derek.
Derek nodded, “I figured as much. I am glad that my information was helpful to the group.”
Raven's expression went dark, “It was very helpful, and now I almost wish we hadn't gone searching the woods. You were able to get much of the same knowledge without risking lives.”
Antelope shook his head, “What we learned was of great value. We know how they fight, we know what manner of men they are. Their numbers are now lessened as well.”
Golden Dawn frowned a little, “I'm glad you weren't hurt, Little Buffalo.” She smiled with eyes showing worry, “I wouldn't know what to do if you left my life.”
That hurt Raven, so much so that he didn't even bother to correct her from using his old name. He glanced up to the stars, “I will always be in your life, Dawn.” He looked down at Dawn and smiled. “Come on, it's going to be a rough day tomorrow. We should all get some rest.”
Farthest Running Antelope stood with Raven, clasping a hand on his
friend's shoulder, “Rest will come, but first we have more to prepare.”
Chapter Eleven
The entire village was up early, three days later, watching as the warriors ran toward the gate. All of those going to avenge Soft-Spoken Hawk's death had spent their time in the Asi, sweating and undergoing a cleansing of mind and spirit. Raven found himself feeling lightheaded, yet somehow thinking clearer all the same.
He Who Dances In Battle had been selected as Opae, the war leader for the group. His uncle, Moves Like Wind, was to be the Hetissu. It would be his responsibility to carry and protect the sacred ark of war. They were both powerful braves, experienced and well loved throughout the village. Dances in Battle led them in position and in song, chanting solemnly on their way out of the village. Everyone hungered for the party to be successful, and a look of determination settled on many a face.
A strange sense of thoughtful calm filled Raven Cloud. Silence cloaked the men as they passed through the gate, and every thought rang clear in the mind. As he ran amidst the column of warriors, Raven found himself thinking of Chief Dancing Cloud's words, then New Moon's counsel, then the wisdom given by Red Panther. Even conversations with Golden Dawn replayed themselves.
Much of what they said resonated within his heart, and some of those thoughts were painful to face. Dancing Cloud's suggestion that he might not belong hurt the most. It reopened the wounds of being cast aside by a parent he'd never known, echoes of the past converging in his mind.
Terrain passed by, and Raven was not nearly as aware of his surroundings as he should have been. He looked to his left and right, but much of the background was a blur because of an unfocused mind. Soon the pace would pick up, and it would be paramount that his focus returned to their travel. So much kept happening, he always felt torn between responsibilities. To stay behind would have been demoralizing, even if it might have allowed him to figure things out. Going to fight became more important.