Morning Dew’s hair was washed, combed, and gleaming in the sunlight. The dress emphasized her full breasts, narrow waist, and round hips as she strode up to stop beside Great Cougar. She looked Heron Wing straight in the eye, nodded, and said, “Good day, Matron.”
“I am not a matron.”
“That is the Chikosi’s great loss.”
“I shall miss you, Morning Dew.”
The woman smiled, then looked down at the long object in Heron Wing’s hands. Her eyes widened, one hand rising to the decorated quill work at her breast as if to still a suddenly pounding heart.
Heron Wing stepped to her, offering the long stone sword she’d taken from under Smoke Shield’s bed. “The man who owned this is dead. I have brought it to you. It is my gift, along with the freedom that I promised.” She smiled ironically. “Though it seems that you obtained it in a different manner than I had planned.”
“I can’t take that.” Morning Dew stepped back a pace.
“It became yours the night you killed the Chahta captives.”
Whispers broke out. Blood Skull began cursing under his breath.
Morning Dew swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “How . . . How did you know?”
“For a long time I didn’t. Then I remembered the blood on your hands the day Thin Branch brought you to me . . . and how frantically you scrubbed to remove it. It was more than a bloody nose would merit. You didn’t mourn for your husband and brother—though I know you loved them with all of your heart. Then I understood: You made your peace with them the night you set their souls free, didn’t you?” Heron Wing dropped to her knees, extending the stone sword. “Only the bravest woman alive could have done what you did. You have earned this through your sacrifice and raw courage. As the winters pass, take it and hold it, and remember the strength and daring you demonstrated that terrible foggy night.”
Morning Dew reached out with trembling hands, taking the long ritual sword, pulling the handle back to see the blood-encrusted stone. As if the sight steadied her, she straightened, head high, saying, “Thank you, Heron Wing. I shall always honor you.”
“Can we make an end of this?” Blood Skull fumed.
Morning Dew ignored him, calling, “I would address the man known as Green Snake, of the Chief Clan, of the Hickory Moiety.”
“Me?” Green Snake asked, obviously surprised.
Heron Wing studied Morning Dew’s stiff posture: It was a mixture of excitement tempered with uneasy resolve.
Morning Dew stared straight ahead as she firmly said, “I am Morning Dew of the Chief Clan, matron of the White Arrow Moiety of the Chahta People. You are Green Snake of the Chief Clan, of the Hickory Moiety. We are both descended from the line of high minkos. As a means of ending hostilities between our peoples, I am here to propose marriage between us.”
Marriage?
Heron Wing gaped, her heart hammering. “Morning Dew?”
In a low voice, Morning Dew said, “I am a matron. We need a symbol, a reason to make peace. . . . And, it seems I must have a husband.” She turned back to Green Snake. “Are you in agreement?”
Heron Wing turned to stare at Green Snake, reading the confusion on his face. He glanced at her, helpless, eyes frantic.
Heron Wing felt herself crumbling. Gods, yes, it makes perfect sense. “In Breath Giver’s name, Green Snake, tell her yes.”
“Yes,” he replied weakly.
How could I have just said that? Her souls were wilting. Assuming he still married her, she, Heron Wing, would be a second wife. Worse, she would have to share this man. Somehow, in her Dreams, she had thought she could have him to herself—at least for a while.
Everything comes at a price, Heron Wing.
Morning Dew stepped forward, taking Green Snake’s hand. She turned, looking back at her warriors. “My husband and I thank you for the hard run you have made through storm and rain, up steep hills, over fallen trees, and across swollen streams. Because you have worked so hard—have run with such diligence—it appears that you have managed to arrive just in time for my marriage! I congratulate you all!”
A cheer went up from the warriors. They clacked their bows against shields and war clubs. Great Cougar, looking somewhat disappointed, added his voice to the rest.
Her world reeling, Heron Wing watched as Morning Dew turned to the Sky Hand. “This is a most auspicious marriage! Can the Sky Hand provide a feast worthy of this occasion? We will need games! I propose a grand stickball match in the plaza. The best of your Sky Hand shall play my Chahta! I will wager our restitution for Alligator Town against what you would offer White Arrow Town. Let Power decide!”