Harvest Moon (4 page)

Bearclaw’s eyes narrowed, but he did not lash out at her people. For that, she was grateful though she wasn’t sure why. “But how did you become a man?”

“I consulted our sacred bundle of prophecy without permission. I only wanted a glimpse of my future. If the spirits could show me something worthwhile to look forward to, then I would continue to live for them. Otherwise, I would…” her voice trailed off. The prison she had endured all those moon cycles ago seemed so far away and yet still raw and painful.

“Otherwise, you would decide the end of your life and not the Creator?” he said with disdain in his voice.

“It was wrong, but I was trapped. You cannot imagine. My ancestor appeared and said that I wanted to be a man. So she turned me into one and dropped me here, still with the bundle in my hand.”

“Silly girl,” he said, shaking his head. “What a stupid thing to do!”

She glared at him and pointed her finger. “Do not speak to me like a child. Before you knew I was a woman, you spoke to me like an equal. Now, you call me names. Before I became cursed, I was a messenger for my band and traveled for moon cycles on end spreading news across my entire nation and sometimes yours. How dare you treat me like I’m less than you when I am not!”

Bearclaw stared at her, eyes wide. She regretted the outburst, even though it felt good.

“I’m sorry, Bearclaw.”

He shook his head. “I was wrong. I apologize, Dancing Cat.”

Fearful she would cry again, she dropped her gaze to the ground, only to have him tilt her head back up with his hand. “You are Dancing Cat, and man, or woman, or cursed, I hope one day to see you dance.”

She blinked. Of all the things she had expected to hear, that was not it. It was not a declaration of love or affection, but it was more warm and caring than anything she had experienced in a long time. Her heart ached all the more, for it reminded her of what she had lost.

“Do you hear that?” Bearclaw asked, cocking his head. “It sounds like thunder, but there are no clouds.”

It was a moment before she could hear anything. Squinting towards the eastern sky, she saw a band of riders in the colours of her own people.

“It’s a war party!” Bearclaw exclaimed. He glared at her. “You’ve brought this on us.” He stumbled back. “You truly are the Cursed One.”

She slapped him with all of her fury. “After all that I’ve told you, you call me that name. How dare you.”

She did not wait to hear or see his response. Dancing Cat knew that her people had come for the sacred bundle; after all, they wouldn’t come for her. They probably assumed Red Valley stole it somehow. She needed to stop them before they did something foolish.

She rushed to Bearclaw’s grazing horse and crawled up on to it, leaving Bearclaw to shout in the distance behind her. She balanced herself with one handful of the horse’s mane; the other hand busied itself gripping her ribs. Dancing Cat kicked the beast’s sides and screamed, though her male vocal cords could not achieve her normal high-pitched screech. She waved a hand in the air, shouting, hoping that they would listen before shooting her with their arrows.

She approached them from behind, shouting and calling out the names of the men she guessed were in the war party. A man looked over his shoulder at her and turned his horse. Soon, the entire force of riders matched his pace and within moments, they circled her, several horses deep and forced her to come to a halt.

Even though she knew all of these men, fear welled up inside her. They would not recognize her. Sweat pooled along her trousers, sending chills across her skin as the wind cut through her clothes. She scanned the group for a friendly face and found her brother’s. “Eagle Eyes, thank the Creator.”

Her brother had never openly showed support after her banishment, but he had never been unkind, either. Occasionally, he had dropped scraps of meat at her feet when no one looked. His potential as future chief depended upon the support of others. Still, he was not without kindness.

The warriors moved their horses over enough to let him through to face her. “Who are you?”

She held on to the horse’s mane, her knuckles turning white. “I am Dancing Cat.” She held her head proud at saying her name. “You call me Cursed One.”

“Dancing Cat is a woman and my sister. What have you done with her and the sacred bundle?” Eagle Eyes asked, fury flashing across his face.

Her heart skipped a beat, hearing him ask what happened to her. She smiled. “The sacred bundle turned me into a man. I am your sister.”

Her brother stared at her. “I don’t believe you.”

“When we were six, I caught your hair on fire. I took the blame for you when you covered grandmother’s tunic with thistles after she beat you for stealing her…”

“Dancing Cat!” he exclaimed. His glee lasted only for an instant. Anger replaced it. ?”You stole the bundle, and it turned you into a man?”

She shook her head. “No. I opened the bundle, and it turned me into a man and brought me here.”

“Who is that man?” He pointed to the figure in the distance.

“The one who saved me,” she said, realizing she meant more than just the binding of her wounds. He had treated her with respect and kindness. She would use that to endure whatever came next. “This is his horse. I need to leave it. He is on a spirit quest.”

Her brother considered the statement before agreeing. “You are certain you took the bundle and not Red Valley?”

She nodded. “It was me. Small Tree appeared to me in a vision, and she brought me here as punishment.”

One of the older men said, “Cursed One should walk. She stole the sacred bundle. Her actions nearly caused a war.”

Dancing Cat held her head high. “If you leave me to walk, I will die, and then I will be unable to face my punishment.”

Her brother nodded. “You can ride back with me. Come, return the horse. You men, wait here.”

Eagle Eyes followed her back to the small camp where she had lived for more than a full moon cycle, living off the land and giving up the nomadic lifestyle. Bearclaw reached up and helped her down from the horse. She winced in pain, but smiled at his sympathetic grimace. He had become her friend, after she had long given up on having one again. For that alone, her disobedience in touching the sacred bundle had been worth it all.

Carefully, she eased herself down to their sleeping area and picked up the beaded item. Bearclaw stood next to her, close enough for her to whisper without her brother hearing.

“They have what they came for. We will go home now.” Thankfully, she had cried all of her tears, and there were none left.

He touched her arm. “How badly will they treat you?”

She looked back at her brother’s cold stare. “If my ancestors have any regard for me, my band will merely shun me. If I am not so favoured, I will starve this winter.”

Bearclaw shook his head. “I will not release you to that fate.”

Though she did not want to, Dancing Cat forced a smile. It was fake and she knew it, but she could not leave him frowning. “You must. They will not let me go without punishment, and your tribe will not accept you bringing back a man, even if I am a woman.”

“Do you think they’ll change you back?”

“I have no idea.” She really didn’t know if they even could, let alone if they would. A nagging feeling told her that her grandmother would see to it that she stayed a man, even if the power existed to reverse Small Tree’s spell.

“Come,” her brother commanded. She let out a deep breath, grateful that he had not called her Cursed One in front of Bearclaw.

She raised her eyebrows, no longer able to smile. There was nothing to smile about.

Bearclaw leaned towards and kissed the tip of her nose. A jolt shot through her body as he whispered into her ear, “I will never forget how the spirits sent you to me.”

Heat rose in her face, and she turned away from him and walked toward her brother. She stopped short of the horse and, without turning around, spoke loudly. Proudly. “I know why Small Tree brought me here. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. She wanted me to feel like a person again. You did that.”

Before Bearclaw could answer, she grabbed her brother’s outstretched arm. Jumping up, Eagle Eyes pulled her up behind him. Without a word, her brother turned the horse around and galloped towards the now-satiated war party.

She did not look back at Bearclaw. She knew she would not have been able to return home if she looked back at his handsome, kind face and saw the worry she imagined spread across it.

Cold Moon

Another moon cycle had passed, and no one had spoken to her, even during the trek to the winter camp. She was no longer permitted to sit with her family. The captured wives were not even allowed to speak to her. Hawk Sight saw to that, by inviting the wives to join the circle of women. Even though she was still in male flesh, the men would have nothing to do with an aberration. So, she sat alone.

Sitting cross-legged in the snow with a small patch of elk hide underneath her, Dancing Cat pounded dried strips of buffalo meat into powder. Her nails chipped and bled from the constant smashing against the rocks, but she did not care. Pain meant that she was still alive. She reasoned that the constant bleeding forced blood into her often-numb fingertips. She’d hate to lose her fingers to frostbite.

She looked around at the bustling group and decided it was not so bad after all. The women dumped off the work that they did not want to do, and she could work at her own pace, since they would have to speak to her in order to berate her. Also, having stronger arms meant that she could pound the meat easier than the other women could.

No one was watching. They were too busy preparing for the blinding winter storms that would begin within the next moon cycle. She pulled out a small, buckskin purse from inside her trousers and scooped a handful of buffalo powder into it. Eagle Eyes walked by and caught her. She glared at him and he frowned, walking away in silence.

They never spoke about what happened at the camp with Bearclaw, but his compassion had grown towards her. He gave her his cast-off clothing and blankets so she wouldn’t freeze to death during the bitter cold nights. He had even argued against the elders about keeping her as a man. Although he had lost the argument, he had not lost her respect for standing up for her.

She had not been surprised by their choice to keep her as a man. Small Tree had handed them a new way to torture her. Only, she used her change to her advantage. Dancing Cat knew they would leave her to starve once all of the work had been done. She planned to escape before then.

She only needed another week’s worth of food, and then she would slip away in the middle of the night. Perhaps she’d head for Red Valley and sell herself as a slave to the first person she found. Anything was better than a death not of one’s own choosing.

Bearclaw had taught her that.

Dancing Cat rubbed her leg through her buckskin trousers, somewhat accustomed now to the taunt, muscular features of it. She doubted she’d ever completely get used to seeing herself as a man. She tried looking at her body as little as possible, still embarrassed by seeing a man naked. Even if that man was herself.

“She’s over there.”

Dancing Cat looked up to see her chief, her mother, and her grandmother walking towards her. And him. She wondered if her mind was slipping away. She dropped her grinding rock in surprise. Not a day had gone by without her daydreaming about Bearclaw.

“I don’t know why you’d request such a low price for peace,” Hawk Sight said, her hands raw and red from forming still-warm bone marrow into cakes with the buffalo and berry powders. “She is cursed.”

“Young though I am, perhaps I am wiser than you, Hawk Sight,” he said, without smiling.

Dancing Cat coughed to hide her laughter, which did not escape Crow. Her mother’s glare could cut river ice into sheets. “While you believe your ancestors banished her, I believe mine brought her to me.”

“And this is the only cost for peace that your father demands?” the chief asked. He clearly had not expected a visit from the Red Valley, for he was not in his proper attire. Instead, he sported his everyday tunic and trousers.

Dancing Cat sat quietly, still fearful to look up. She had not realized Bearclaw was a chief’s son. It made sense, she supposed, that he had been allowed to leave with so many items on a spirit quest. Or that he had even been allowed to go on one so close to winter. A young man would be needed on the hunt.

“My father has given me full power to negotiate peace between our peoples. We have no wish to retaliate for your invasion; however, such a violation cannot be overlooked. I demand a woman as my wife. I will take your cursed one.”

Dancing Cat gasped, though she was not sure if it was horror or surprise. Her natural instinct was to prickle at the idea of being bartered like a beaver pelt. Yet, only moments before, she admitted, she herself had planned on a similar sale to escape. She wondered if it was because it was Bearclaw bartering for her. How could she be sure that he did it for her and not just for peace?

“She isn’t even a woman!” Crow exclaimed. “We have plenty of other women here. Pick one of them.”

“Dancing Cat is still a woman in her heart. I doubt you have given all of your efforts to changing her back. My magic workers will have better success. She is my price for peace.”

Her heart raced. She had never thought she’d be excited about being traded like a beaver pelt. Bearclaw had come for her. He had not forgotten her.

“Peace has never been bought more cheaply,” Hawk Sight grumbled and walked away.

“Leave me with my wife,” Bearclaw demanded of Crow and the chief.

Only when they walked away did Dancing Cat look up at him. Her hands quivered. She was free. She managed to choke out the words, “You have come to rescue me?”

His face lacked emotion. Hawk Sight lingered within earshot. Other men and women wandered nearby to eavesdrop.

“My father has named me his successor. I need a wife from a rival tribe. Since your people have affronted us, this seemed the logical path. On your feet.”

Dancing Cat stood without even thinking. She stared at him, hurt that he treated her like one of the camp dogs. He had not come to rescue her. Her bottom lip quivered, but there were no tears left to shed.