At first, she couldn't understand what had gone wrong. When the cramps hit, she just knew it must have been the pine-nut patties she'd stolen from old Green Horn's grinding stone—that the old woman had cast some sort of enchantment to give young-girl thieves a bellyache. But Elk Charm should have known. The budding of her breasts should have been a clue. The broadening of her hips—which had become so pronounced in her shadow—hadn't prepared her. Not even the downy-dark tracery of pubic hair had warned her. When the blood first appeared, she'd almost panicked.
“It's your time," her mother, Rattling Hooves, had told her proudly. "My daughter's become a woman."
In utter spiritual chaos, Elk Charm had simply stared, mouth open, unable to speak. In all her life only the tragic death of her father had left her so off balance and devastated.
Ushered to the menstrual lodge in great ceremony, she'd spent four days under the shelter, alternately confused, ecstatic, bored, excited, or miserable. Then her mother and grandmother and most of the other women had come, plucked her eyebrows, and stripped her bare. With gaudy colors, they'd painted her body as all women had been painted the First Man had shown them the way up from the First World and exposed them to the light of Father Sun. Her mother had dipped both hands in wet ocher and clapped them to her breasts, symbolically dedicating her future milk to the Red Hand. They had painted her face white with a blue circle on her right cheek to indicate the sky and a brown circle on her left to indicate the earth. Down from her breastbone, they had painted the yellow Path of Light to cross her navel and end on the rise of her pubis. Green Horn had used charcoal to draw arrows pointing up the insides of her thighs. "To lead these stupid young men to the right place, you see!" And she'd cackled to the immense delight of the other old women.
Flushed with embarrassment, Elk Charm had swallowed hard, certain the old hag knew just who had stolen her pine-nut patties.
Orange was painted in a big circle on the flat of her abdomen, a symbol of the morning sun and the new life it brought to the day just as her loins would bring new life to the Red Hand.
Through it all, she endured, knowing the ritual as every young girl somehow did. No one ever really discussed it openly; nevertheless, she had known from whispered conversations shared with her friends, Cricket and Tanager. Somehow, it hadn't seemed real until afterward. The old women had left, accompanied by her mother. They'd gone, singing and rattling their deer-hoof noisemakers. A new woman had come to the Red Hand.
Elk Charm had straightened to watch them go, feeling the difference in her life. The men had been waiting, laughing, singing, and clapping their hands as they danced along with the procession. Cricket and Tanager had observed from the edge of camp, wide-eyed, knowing their old easygoing relationship had changed. Elk Charm could no longer laugh and joke with them like a child, or play games like hoop and stick. She had to assume the duties of a woman—and she had no idea how women laughed, or what all their jokes meant.
A man would want her. That thought had possessed her, going through her thoughts like a cool breeze on a hot day. She'd been so preoccupied, she'd barely noticed at first.
One man didn't join the dancing. The Keeper of the Wolf Bundle simply looked on, stern face expressionless. Across the distance, she'd felt the anticipation in his eyes. Head up, alert, the consummate hunter had found prey.
He'd looked in her direction, smiling to himself, a gleam in his eyes. The realization had hit her like a thrown rock. Her soul tightened and twisted in on itself: Blood Bear wanted to have her first!
Desperate, she'd sent Tanager for her mother, unwilling to elaborate on the reason why. Even as she'd struggled to explain, will-o'-the-wisp Tanager had slipped away into the night.
That afternoon, as singing and chants rose from the camp, she'd huddled under her robe. They'd expect her to leave the lodge tomorrow morning. What then? Blood Bear would lie in wait. How could she refuse him if he caught her outside the camp? What could she do? No one denied the Keeper of the Wolf Bundle. Blood Bear had returned the stolen heart and spirit of the Red Hand. He could take what he wanted.
She bent down to peer under the cover again, seeing a dark shadow detach itself from the camp to walk up the flat-trodden path. The familiar stride warmed some of the desperate chill within. Tanager had managed to slip into her stepfather's lodge and catch her mother's ear.
Soft-skinned moccasins whispered on the path, a swish of fringed hide brushed against skin as Rattling Hooves bent down.
"Hello, daughter. What's this I hear? You wanted to see me?"
"I need to talk."
Her mother chuckled in her throaty manner and ducked through the flap. She sighed as she sat down and rolled onto her side on the padded hide floor of the lodge. Relaxed, she kicked her legs out, leaning on one arm to stare across in the darkness.