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“They could not have died instantly,” one of the warriors said as he sidled his horse next to Wolf Hawk’s.
“Ho, it is evident that they slowly bled to death, for they could not free themselves of the white man’s traps,” Wolf Hawk said, his voice tight with emotion.
He knew what must be done, but he hated the thought of taking the fallen sons back to their mother. Still worse would be telling her of the horrible way they had died.
That was something no mother should have to be told.
Wolf Hawk rode somberly onward until he came close to the fallen youths. He dismounted and knelt beside them.
He bowed his head and said a silent prayer, then looked slowly around for any sign of who might have caused the deaths.
Of course, he knew that it was the work of whites. But where were they?
Had they come to see what they had done? Had they fled the wrath of the Winnebago, which they must have known would fall on them?
He saw the youths’ bows nearby their bodies. Their quivers were still on their backs.
But he saw no game. Apparently they had caught none before they had stepped into the jaws of death.
The poor boys must have lain there, afraid and filled with pain, as death slowly consumed them.
Then he noticed something that made his insides tighten. Little Bull’s hunting amulet was gone from his neck, yet his brother’s was still in place. The white hunters who had set the traps must have come upon the dead youths.
Fearing that their own lives would be forfeit once the bodies were discovered, they had fled, leaving the two young braves lying in their own blood. But apparently before they left, one of those hunters had yanked the amulet from around Little Bull’s neck.
Wolf Hawk now knew that whoever wore that amulet carried the proof of his guilt in taking two young lives.
“Help me free them from the traps,” Wolf Hawk said tightly. He felt an urgent need to start tracking down the killers. But that had to wait.
A mother was waiting for the delivery of her sons and he would not assign that duty to anyone else. He had promised her that he would bring them home to her.
He had just never imagined it would be in this way.
He’d truly thought he would find them, scold them, then send them home to their mother and let her decide what their punishment should be for having caused her such distress. Now that distress would be unending.
Once the boys were freed of the traps, blankets were taken from the bags of two warriors and wrapped gently around the bodies.
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Wolf Hawk carried one of the bundles to his horse and carefully draped it over the back of his steed, while one of his warriors did the same with the other.
“With great sorrow in our hearts we must take the young braves home to their mother,” Wolf Hawk said, mounting his horse, a black stallion with a white star design painted on each side of its body.
Slowly they turned back in the direction of their village.
Filled with a need for vengeance such as he had never felt before, Wolf Hawk headed for home, followed by his warriors.
Wolf Hawk dreaded to be the one to carry such terrible news back to a mother who adored her sons.
But he was the chief of his Bird Clan. He must fulfill his duties to his people, even this most painful one.
Dancing Fire would be totally alone in the world now, except for her Winnebago people who would always embrace her with their love. But despite his reassurances earlier, Wolf Hawk knew that that sort of love just would not be enough today.
He anticipated Dancing Fire’s remorse, for he felt it, too, as though these two young braves were of his own flesh and blood…his sons. He felt the same about all of the young braves of his village.
Chapter Six
Her dreams in the bright day
