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“Tell me why you look so different today,” Running Fawn asked Kaylene as they walked through the village, on Kaylene’s usual morning stroll with her panther. She stepped in Kaylene’s way and smiled mischievously at her. “You look as radiant as someone who—”
Fearing what Running Fawn was about to say, that she had somehow surmised that Kaylene had been with Fire Thunder, Kaylene brushed past her.
How could she admit to having been with Fire Thunder not only once, but twice?
Last night, and this morning before Fire Thunder left to see to his chieftain duties.
Even she was in awe of herself for having gone to bed with him so easily.
Yes, she loved him. She adored him. But that did not give her cause to be a loose woman.
She was troubled now by her decision to stay with him. Perhaps it was a reckless one, having been blinded by her love for this wonderful Kickapoo chief.
How could she have ever lost sight of his being responsible for her father’s death?
Surely she couldn’t stay that easily with Fire Thunder, even though she knew that in his heart he had done the right thing about her father. He had avenged the honor of his beloved sister.
And, the many other children besides Little Sparrow who had unwillingly become slaves at the carnival.
Again the question about her parents came to mind, haunting her. She ignored R
unning Fawn’s persistent questions, as she allowed her thoughts to stray to her childhood, and her life with the carnival, and the two people who had raised her. Had her life been nothing but a lie? Was the woman who had so lovingly held her as a child in her arms truly her mother?
“Kaylene, what is wrong with you today?” Running Fawn said, bringing Kaylene’s thoughts back to the present.
Weary of the questions, finding them disturbing, Kaylene stopped suddenly and glared at Running Fawn. “What is wrong with you today?” she blurted out. “Why can’t we have a pleasant walk without . . . without all of these questions?”
Running Fawn’s lips parted in a soft gasp. Her dark eyes widened. “I am just being your friend,” she murmured. “I am just trying to help you. First you look as though you are walking on clouds, your face pink and radiant, your green eyes gleaming. Then you look so troubled, as though you have doubts about something. Sometimes talking helps. But if you would rather walk and not talk, that is fine with me.”
“Yes, that would be best,” Kaylene said softly. “Please understand, Running Fawn. I do have a lot on my mind today. But it is best not spoken aloud. They are things that I must work out on my own.”
“When you need someone to talk to, I will be there for you,” Running Fawn said. She gave Kaylene a big hug. “Now let’s go on and finish our walk. You still need to build up your strength.”
“You are sweet for understanding so easily,” Kaylene said, returning the hug.
As she eased from Running Fawn’s arms, Kaylene suddenly felt ashamed for having spoken so sharply to her. Still only Running Fawn and Little Sparrow had offered their friendships to Kaylene. She did not want to lose either of them.
“Running Fawn, I’m sorry for having spoken so harshly,” she apologized.
“If I were a captive, I would say and behave much worse,” Running Fawn said.
Kaylene frowned as she continued walking silently beside Running Fawn.
Captive. That word! How it grated against her nerves.
She wondered if she insisted on going now, if Fire Thunder would even allow it? If he cared as much for her as he professed to, wouldn’t he want her to do what made her happy?
But, of course, being with him made her happy. He was all that she wanted in life now and knew that she would not ask to be set free.
Yet she did plan to go to her mother and demand answers when she was strong enough for the journey.
The sun was warm. The wind was soft and sweet smelling as Kaylene walked farther through the village. She gazed around her and saw women working at their basketry and beading outside their lodges.
Earlier, Running Fawn had told Kaylene that the women made dyes from berry juices and roots to paint designs upon their baskets, dwellings, and their husbands’ hunting knives.
Again she experienced the same strange stirrings that she had felt before while with these people—the feelings of belonging to this culture, almost frightening her.
Why, oh, why did she feel this way? she wondered. It was as though some large being had spread its arms around her and told her she had come home.
