Destiny Mine (5 page)

“The Crow attacked a Cheyenne band they found in their scouting path; they are fierce enemies,” Strong Rock pointed out. “We do not know if they came to raid our camp and slay our people.”

“Did they not attack Kionee to slay a
tiva?”
Night Walker refuted.

“Kionee was with a Cheyenne when they saw my son.”

“Kionee’s mask told them he is Hanueva. Still, they attacked. I say, if Kionee had been alone, Kionee would be dead by a Crow arrow. I say, Crow no longer fear or flee from what they believe is
tiva
magic, for their hunger to capture such powerful medicine makes them daring.”

Spotted Owl reasoned in a soft tone, “We cannot know if your words are true, Night Walker, so to act on them is unwise.”

“We will place guards each sun and moon to watch for Crow raids,” Chief Bear’s Head ordered. “We must wait to see if trouble strikes before we move to the grasslands. Do not go looking for sly death, my son; wait until it stalks you to lay a trap for it.”

“Why do we not send peacemakers to Red Plume,
Long Hair, and Swift Crane to see why they allow their warriors to attack us?”

“Your thought is good, Strong Rock; we will think on it until the council meets in ten suns and votes. Search your hearts, my people, for the path we choose to take will paint our destinies on our family hides.”

Night Walker’s heart pounded in excitement as he realized he had ten days to convince others to join his side against the weakling peacemakers. Somehow, he plotted, he and Little Weasel would provoke a conflict in which they could use their prowess to obtain glory. Never, he resolved, would he allow the Crow—or any others—to push him off this land or to make him cower in fear and ultimate defeat, no matter what he must do to prevent it.

“Where is my mate?” Martay asked Kionee upon her return.

“Father stayed behind to speak with friends. I grow weary, for there were many tasks to do this sun. I must sleep soon.”

“Will the Crow come to attack us, Brother?” Blue Bird asked.

“I do not know, Sister, but I worry over them sneaking near our camp. The one who died last did not fear us or
tiva
magic.”

“Will Runs Fast be called into battle?”

Kionee considered her sister’s expression and tone. “You fear for his safety and survival?”

“Yes, my brother, though I should not when he is skilled in fighting.”

“He has captured your eye and heart?”

“Yes.”

“If war comes, Blue Bird, I will try to guard his back for you.”

“That is kind, Brother, for your skills are as large as the mountain.”

“What of the Cheyenne warrior?” Martay asked. “Did he offer help?”

“The Cheyenne will be busy with the buffalo hunt and defeating Crow who challenge them. His skills are great, for he has fought many battles.”

“Would it not be wise, my son, to camp near them on the grasslands?”

“That is for our chief and council to say. None spoke for it, Mother. Little Weasel and Night Walker spoke for war.”

“War? We cannot challenge the Crow, my son. They are too many.”

“Do not fear, Mother; none took their bold words to heart.”

Martay fretted over her “son” going into fierce battle with such hostile and experienced warriors. She had lost one daughter to sickness in the chest many winters past. Blue Bird hoped to be joined to Runs Fast before the cold season, and Moon Child would follow that path in one or two more summers. It had taken her many seasons to accept Kionee’s change of fate, but her “son” had proven himself before and after Strong Rock’s accident. She was proud of Kionee and at peace with their life. Perhaps becoming close with Blue Bird during Kionee’s long absence from their tipi had mellowed her heart and taken away her anger.

Strong Rock entered the tipi, struggled to his mat, and lowered himself to sit on it. He put aside the wood supports and took several deep breaths. He was glad no one offended his pride by offering to assist him. He was grateful to Kionee who had found the sturdy and straight staffs with forked branches to fit under his arms. His clever son had wrapped their tops in rabbit fur to prevent chafing and soreness in his armpits, had
rubbed the limbs free of splinters, and had secured leather strips halfway for his hands to grip. Strong Rock tried not to resent his ill fate, but at perilous times like this, unwanted bitterness and a sense of failure crept into his mind and heart.

Strong Rock knew he and his family were fortunate and blessed to have a son like Kionee to take his place. The worried father did not want to imagine life without him as their Hunter-Guardian. “It is a bad sign the Crow resist their shaman’s words and steal near our camp for evil deeds. I do not want our protectors to ride the reckless trail Night Walker desires, but we must prepare for defense, for more are sure to come before we leave.”

“Friends of those we slew will seek a path to revenge, Father, for that is their way. It is good the Cheyenne warrior took their bodies far from our land and
Atah
sent snow to hide our tracks and deeds. When Mother Earth warms her face, the Crow will be busy with tobacco planting for a time.”

“You must picket your horses near our tipi, Kionee; Crow hunger for good buffalo and war horses. You have trained Recu to ride as one with you in the great hunt. You have trained Tuka for skilled riding and fighting. They would be great losses to you and our family. A strong and smart animal brings many hides and weapons in the trading camp. Few can be found and captured and trained well after they escape and run wild.”

“Maja guards them for me; he will alert me to an enemy’s approach. He knows all scents of our camp and will smell any strange ones.”

“It troubles me, my son, that Crow no longer fear
tivas
and now crave our mask-wearers’ big medicine. Bird warriors become leaders and chiefs by gathering many coups: by touching an enemy while fighting or in
stealth, by stealing one’s weapons in battle or in secret, by stealing an enemy’s horse after a defeat or when it is picketed at his tipi, and by planning successful raids. Those with the largest number and highest ranking coups win those places. They are a people who love war, who seek it. We must pray for peace and survival.”

Kionee realized her father was saddened by his helplessness when war might loom on their horizon and that he yearned to defend his family and people. Whatever came, she was ready to confront it, and she would do her best to obtain victory. Perhaps Stalking Wolf and the Cheyenne Strong Hearts would come to help them if—
Forget him.

On the fifth day after meeting Stalking Wolf, Kionee and Regim went hunting. After spending the last few days in the menses hut, Kionee was charged with tension and needed the exercise and diversion. Regim sensed something was disturbing her niece and hoped to learn its source.

Kionee felt as if her emotions would get out of control if not discussed with someone who was loved and trusted. She needed advice, understanding, and comfort. What better source was there than the person who had trained and almost reared her, who was her mother’s “brother,” who was the
Tiva-Chu
—leader of the Hunter-Guardian rank—and who would never betray her confession no matter what it was.

“I have worn my mask for fifteen summers, Regim …” she began, “but it has not become like part of my skin and life as I was told it would.” Kionee paced and frowned as she disclosed, “When the sun blazes down like a fire in the hot season, water runs from under my breast band and slips down my body like tiny rivers. The deerskin tightens as it dries and I can hardly breathe,
but I dare not loosen or remove it. With each circle of seasons, my mounds grow larger and it becomes harder to flatten them into hiding. When I am captive in the
Haukau
during my blood flow season, I grow restless and angry, for it serves no good purpose. Why does
Atah
not halt it and dry up our breasts? He has the power and magic to remove such reminders we are female. Why are they not captured and placed in our
kims
with our female spirits?”

Kionee halted her movements and looked at the older woman, but the
Tiva-Chu
’s expression was unreadable. “No matter how long and how good we live as men, Regim, we remain females in body.
Atah
did not change us into the men we live as; we have not grown shafts and bags between our legs. We train, hunt, and council with men, but they do not seek us out at other times as friends; they still view us as females in their hearts and heads. We do not smoke the sacred pipe or share the sweat lodge or bathe with them; we are treated as females in those ways. Women pretend we are men—sons and brothers—but they know we are not; they are happy they are not
tivas
and must live as we do. When Mother Earth renews her face after each season of snow, strange and powerful urges call to me and attack me without warning and mercy. Their voices shout to me of mating and bearing children. When my hand lies across my chest at night, I think of children who will never feed there. Why must only
tivas
be denied such joys and victories? Why can we not be mates and mothers and still be Hunter-Guardians?”

Regim was astonished by this unexpected revelation. She had guessed something was troubling Kionee but not a matter this serious. “If such unions were allowed, who would do the woman’s work and tend the children while a
tiva
hunts or fights for her own family?” she replied. “A man cannot do so and it is not the duty of
other women to do so, for they have their own tipis and families to tend. It would be dangerous and impossible for a
tiva
who is belly-carrying or breast-feeding a baby—or has other little ones and chores—to ride on the great summer hunt for the buffalo. If bound to a family, she would be unable to leave her children to battle enemies if we are attacked; that would deny her family and our tribe of a skilled fighter. Her presence would be required in camp to give her baby milk, so she could not go when long hunts are needed at times when game roams far from us in the cold season. And how could a joining between two ‘men’ be explained to visitors and children?”

Regim grasped Kionee’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “If a
tiva
cannot be a full-time mother and mate, she must not leave her rank and join to a man. She can join to one only if our
tiva
laws are met. Few men have the skills and strength to provide game and skins and defense for two families, three if he is responsible for his parents. It would risk the
tiva
’s family going in want, perhaps both of their families going in want. It is our duty as Chosen Ones to make these sacrifices.
Tivas
which number less than the fingers of a hand have joined with mates since before my mother’s birth. By the time we are released from our duties at our parents’ deaths, we are too old to bear children and most men have wives. Those who lose mates do not want one who cannot accept their seeds of life in old bodies. Only three times have girls in training had their
kims
broken to release their female spirits when their mothers gave birth to sons, all before they were ten seasons old and long ago.
Tivas
cannot allow themselves to have such selfish thoughts and feelings. You must do the same, Kionee, or you will suffer great sadness. To desire what cannot be causes a hardness to enter you.”

As a vivid image of the Cheyenne warrior galloped
into her head, Kionee asked, “What if a
tiva
cannot control such forbidden thoughts and feelings?”

“Do you wish to yield to Night Walker’s desire for you? Is he the one who stirs such conflicts within you?”

“No, never him. He is not my destiny. There are many things about Night Walker and Little Weasel which trouble me. They whisper of rising hungers to battle the Bird Warriors for coups and excitement. Already they speak such words aloud in council. Each time they leave camp to hunt, I fear they will seek a path to provoke the Crow against us so we will be forced to fight them. I do not like or trust the burnings in their eyes or the strange eagerness in their bodies for war. I do not like the fire in Night Walker’s loins for me. He has never accepted me as a man. He is careful with his words and actions, but I see what lies beneath their sly coverings.”

“Your eyes and wits are sharp, Kionee, for you grasp how he looks at you and hear the softness in his voice when he speaks to you. As snow blanketed Mother Earth, I watched the hunger in his eyes grow larger and its fire burn brighter when he thought no one saw them. It will be hard to deny him when he pursues you after the buffalo hunt, for I am sure he will. He waits only for you to pass twenty-one circles of seasons, as is our
tiva
law, before he speaks openly to you and to others of his desire to join with you.”

“I pray that is not true, but I fear your words are wise and knowing. I fear the trouble his chase will bring. Before his mouth opens to speak such unwanted words, I will do all I can to prevent them from spilling forth. I must halt him from trying to clear a path I do not wish to travel.”

“Do not forget: he is our chief’s son; he is a man of high rank. If his brother is slain, he will become our next chief. Most will think it is a great honor to become his mate; most will be angry with you for refusing him.
He has the skills to provide for and protect his mate and children, and your family. He has the prowess to best you in the hunt, and in hand battle. He meets all of the commands in our law.”

“No, Regim, he does not, for I will not accept him. I do not love him or wish to share a tipi and mat with him.”

Regim studied the expression in the troubled gaze of her sister’s child. “Is there another you would accept? Wish to accept? Has your heart been seized by a skilled hunter who does not meet our laws for freedom?”

Kionee tensed and wondered if she should expose the astonishing truth.

K
IONEE’S GAZE LOCKED
with her aunt’s, whom she trusted, respected, and loved. Her decision came swiftly. “Yes, but he is not of our tribe. He does not know I am a woman.”

The astute Regim added up the recent clues to Kionee’s increased restlessness and withdrawal into herself. “The Cheyenne warrior from the hunt six suns past. Tell me about him and this power he has over you.”

Kionee wondered how—with only simple words as a tool—she could describe such a potent force like Stalking Wolf. How could she explain this irresistible attraction to him? Yet, she must try. “Since we met, he steals into my thoughts when I am awake and he enters my dreams when I sleep. I am drawn to him as a bear to honey or as our people to the sacred mountain. I feel a strong and strange bond to him.”

“You must forget him, Kionee, or you will be tormented by reckless longings for what can never be. Our people do not join outside our tribe; it numbers only thirty-two stones over a thousand, but we keep the Hanueva alive and pure with laws to ban joining with outsiders and
no
joining between close kin. If we mix our seeds with others, one sun there will be no Hanueva
bloodline. If one is allowed to break that law, others will be tempted to do so. If outsiders are allowed to join us, they will bring trouble and changes, and expose our
tiva
secret. You must make this new sacrifice for the good of Kionee, your family, and our people. Drive him from your head and heart.”

“That is like telling a river to stop flowing, or snow to cease falling in the cold season, or the sun to never rise again, or the wind to stop blowing. I yearn to see him, to touch him, to feel his embrace and kiss. But you must not worry or fear, Regim, for our paths will never cross again. We do not camp or hunt in the same areas.
Tivas
do not visit trading camps, for we must always stay apart from others to guard the truth, as you well know.”

“Pray your feet and his never walk the same trail and your eyes never meet again,” Regim still warned. “He is forbidden to you, and punishment for breaking our law is harsh. Even with your great skills and courage, you would not survive it.”

Regim clasped Kionee’s cold hands in hers. “I love you as my own child and I have helped train you since you were five summers. I beg you: let me help protect you and guide you away from this evil magic. Do not break your vows. Do not dishonor yourself and your family. Do not bring down
Atah
’s anger upon you and us. See this as a test, a challenge; and win it with wits and courage and strength. When we go to the sacred wheel after the buffalo hunt, make offerings to
Atah
for forgiveness and seek His help in walking the path He cleared for you. If you must step from it, do so either with Night Walker or another Hanueva of high rank and skills.”

How so, Kionee wondered, when no Hanueva stirred her blood, enflamed her body, and enticed her to think of defying her vow as Stalking Wolf did? “Who made such laws, Regim? Why must we pretend to be what we
are not? Why does the Creator allow us to have such feelings and thoughts if they are wrong? Does that not seem cruel?”

“It has been the way of our people since before we can remember,” Regim reminded her. “There are many things we do not know or understand, but still must obey. We must not question or doubt the will of the Creator and High Guardian.”

“With every
tiva
family circle that closes because she leaves no children behind to continue it, our tribe grows smaller and becomes more vulnerable to enemies,” Kionee argued. “It would help our tribe be larger and stronger if
tivas
were allowed to join and bear those needed children, who will bear other children, so our people will not cease to exist one season under the evil hands of attackers.” She raised pleading eyes to search Regim’s face. “Have you never experienced love and desire for a male? Do you not understand how these emotions make me feel?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, “but I cut them from my heart and mind, for it could not be. You must do the same. In time, such forbidden and dangerous feelings will vanish and the joy in your rank will return.”

“Do they ever leave, Regim? Will it return, my
Tiva-Chu
and friend?”

“Yes, Kionee, my loved one, if you do not resist the truth.”

Kionee nodded as if in acceptance of that advice, but suspected the woman had lied to her for the first time. She forgave Regim because she saw the affection behind that tiny deceit.

Many days’ ride beyond the Hanueva winter camp, Stalking Wolf came upon a sight that partly explained why Crow warriors were raiding in areas where they
should not be. He considered visiting the Hanueva to give them a warning but decided against any delay in returning home. Bad weather had held him captive at the sacred mountain wheel two days longer than he wanted and needed to stay after receiving his strange vision. In twenty suns, he would ride into his camp and report the bad news and his suspicions.

Images of the white-clad Kionee with a colorful facial mask and a silver wolf at the hunter’s side flickered through his mind, and he asked the Great Spirit to protect his new friend.
I do not know how or when, Kionee, but our paths will cross again, for I have seen it in my sacred vision. We have faced battle and death together and now we are bonded in a mystical way. When I reach camp, I must ask the shaman to tell me the meaning of my vision. If this is the season for me to take a mate, why does no woman of our tribe touch my heart and flame my body? What is the “powerful destiny” Medicine Eyes sent me to seek? Have I displeased the Great Spirit and He did not reveal it to me? I must have answers soon.

“You make a new bow, Kionee. Is it for the hunt or a coming battle?”

“I will use it as
Atah
guides me, Little Weasel.”

The man eyed the symbols on the discarded piece of chokecherry, their colors indicating the deeds for which they were earned. Again, she had chosen chokecherry for her new weapon, the best wood to use but the hardest to find in the right length. He had watched her figure the needed size by measuring the distance between the tips of her fingers on an outstretched hand across her body to the opposite hipbone. He noticed the skill she evinced in attaching the leather grip that was edged with snowy fur. He observed as she stood and braced one end with her calf and ankle and pulled the other toward her chest to slip the boiled and dried sinew into
a notch and lock it in place to test the sinew’s tension. Nearby lay a wrist band for protecting her arm against string slap, a beaded carrying bag with a quiver attached, and two extra sinews for replacing a broken or weakened one. “You have many marks, old and new, to paint on it. Will the sun rise when your deeds are more than it can hold?” he questioned.

Kionee glanced up at her cousin and noticed his frown, one that matched his bitter tone. As usual, she ignored them both with hopes they would cease one day. “Only
Atah
sees into suns not lived. He has given me many good deeds, and I am thankful. It has been fourteen moons since our men left to visit the Crow. Do you think they will return soon with good news?”

“If
they return,” Little Weasel responded to her obvious change of subject, “I believe they will be slain or held captive. Night Walker agrees.”

“You are angry Chief Bear’s Head and the council did not send you and Night Walker,” she said.

“Crow hearts are as black as this night will be without a moon. We should scout and trap them, not cower in fear and beg for peace. The arrows you make would serve us better if shot into Bird hearts, for a dead man cannot raid and kill and cannot plant seeds in his mate for new enemies. We would have more people if
tivas
are allowed to have mates. Kionee could become a mother. Night Walker would take you as his woman.”

“That is not our way, Little Weasel, and it is wrong to speak of it.”

“Perhaps it is time for changes in our customs if we are to survive.”

Kionee watched her cousin stalk away from her position at the edge of the forest. Her horses, Recu and Tuka, shook their heads, silent signs, it seemed, that they understood his words and fiercely disagreed. Maja nuzzled her arm as if to say,
I am here and I will protect you
from harm.
She whispered to the large silver wolf, “They are bad, my friend, and I fear the threat they will bring to our people. We must pray and hope for peace. If the council had sent
tivas
to speak with the three Crow bands, they would listen. But it is good they did not send Little Weasel and Night Walker, who seek only adventure and glory. They crave to show their cunning and courage, Maja, but in the wrong way. If war is to come, my friend,
Atah
will guide us through those dark suns. We will fight together as one.”

Kionee lifted her club. A skilled weapons-maker, she had fashioned it from a willow rod while still green and wet enough to be bent and stretched over the head of a stone and attached with wet rawhide, which shrank and tightened as it dried. She wondered if she would use it as a weapon one day soon.

She fingered a hunting lance, which was longer and thinner than a war lance for battle. Hers was a head taller than her height, whereas a war lance was its owner’s height plus the tip. She had no doubt she could pierce a foe with the blade, but would she be compelled to take lives with it?

Kionee’s gaze drifted over a pile of arrows she had made, some this very day and some during the long winter, as each required long labor on shafts, tips, and fletchings. She had gathered the lengths of willow before winter while the sap was down, peeled and dried them, and secured them in bundles until she made them into weapons. Most were sized to the span she required for accurate firing, and painted with her ownership markings for joint hunts. Others were longer and unmarked for trading, as twenty good arrows were worth a horse or twenty superior hides. A good bow brought two horses or forty superior hides or other trade goods.

Of course, she mused, Little Weasel would never
trade with her for weapons, though he was not as talented as she was. She wished her cousin could make weapons, hunt, and fight as she did so he would not be jealous of her superiority.
I know that is why you wish me to throw away my
tiva
vow and join to Night Walker after the buffalo hunt. I see, his hunger growing larger. I have felt his presence in hiding when I bathe; he has seen my face and body and knows I am a woman. But I will not be a woman for Night Walker. If a man is my destiny, it is Stalk
—
No, Kionee, do not let him fill your thoughts.

Nine days passed as the Hanueva men and
tivas
readied weapons and practiced fighting skills afoot and on horseback to prepare themselves for a conflict that most prayed would never come. The weather went back and forth between warm spring days and cool nights to chilly days and nights with light to heavy snow as Mother Nature resisted a seasonal change. Everyone noticed that the six men sent to the three Crow camps did not return or send messages of success or failure, so worry increased and training intensified.

Kionee spent another two days in the
Haukau
during her menses, a visit which made her more restless and dissatisfied with her sacrificial rank. She tried in vain to keep thoughts of Stalking Wolf from her mind, and finally accepted the reality that was not possible, but she pined in silence even with Regim. She hunted with others as usual, but now all remained on alert. She knew Night Walker did everything he could to prevent her from being one of those chosen for scouting parties; twice he reasoned with her about her family’s need for a hunter more than a protector. Yet, Kionee decided he was only safeguarding her for himself.

She watched the romance between Runs Fast and her sister grow warmer and bolder, and it brought envy to
Kionee’s mind and sadness to her heart. He would accompany Blue Bird when the girl went to fetch water and wood and to gather spring plants for cooking, but always with people around to avoid shame. The couple would stay in sight each time they talked at the edge of the forest or rode doubleback. He played his flute for her enjoyment and to show his selection of her to others. Kionee concluded they would join after the buffalo hunt and ceremonial visit to Medicine Mountain. She told herself she must hunt extra hard and long this season to help Runs Fast obtain enough buffalo hides for their tipi. After Moon Child came of age next summer and joined, that would leave only herself and her parents to provide for and defend. After they were gone, she would be alone, alone with the elders in the
tiva
tipi, unless…

No, Kionee, you cannot join to Night Walker. You cannot lie upon his mat, in his arms, your bodies united into one. His lips
—
his children—are not those you desire.

“Come, Kionee, we go to hunt. Red Bull and Tall Eagle say a herd of antelope and deer feed near the river where it bends toward the rising sun.”

“I will get my weapons and horse, Sumba. Maja, stay and guard.” She ordered the wolf to watch over her family during her absence. Others did not care for hunting with a predator whose scent might spook their prey. Maja lay down quietly near the tipi entrance; though eager to accompany her, he was obedient.

Taysinga, a
tiva
two years older than Kionee and Sumba, and Goes Ahead joined the group as they rode from camp. The six traveled northward along the Big Horn River for two hours to the location where scouts had reported sighting the herd. The animals had not left the area. Even if the hunters had not descented their
bodies, there was no wind for a time to carry their smell to the grazing creatures. The three men and three women planned their approach from several angles. After leaving their extra horses secured by reins in a copse of trees until needed to carry home the meat and hides, they carried it out with skill and speed.

As the hunters neared their targets, the herd realized their peril and bolted in many directions. The band separated and pursued their goals. Arrows were fired and hit their marks, but the game raced valiantly onward. Finally, strength depleted, each deer and antelope struck stumbled and collapsed to the ground.