“Why do you tell me this?”
Heron Wing smiled humorlessly. “Because I believe in Power. I know how capricious it is, how happy a person can be one moment, and then find she has nothing but broken hopes the next. I don’t know why the just can be made to suffer, but it can happen to the best of us.” She glanced knowingly at Morning Dew. “And because once, though not a captive, I was in the same situation as you now find yourself.”
How could you have been?
“Come,” Heron Wing said. “Let’s roust that lazy old Wide Leaf and see what sort of meal she can make us.”
“I’m not hungry,” Morning Dew had insisted as they entered the house. She had refused the first meal. That had been hands of time ago. Now the smell of the food was wondrous.
For the most part, Heron Wing ignored her. She and Wide Leaf attended to various domestic duties. Every so often people arrived, asking for an audience. Each time, Heron Wing stepped outside. Most of the visitors came with the express purpose of catching a glimpse of the famous Morning Dew. They all offered their congratulations on the singular honor bestowed on Smoke Shield. Each time, Morning Dew sighed with relief when Heron Wing used her artful ways to turn the curious away. More than once, however, the visitors wanted to discuss personal problems, or disagreements within the Panther Clan. To those, Heron Wing gave thoughtful counsel, though Morning Dew had no idea of the personalities and troubles involved.
The thought came to her: Heron Wing is a respected leader.
When the women finally took a break and dished out the savory fare, Heron Wing said, “A bit of bread won’t hurt. It can keep the hunger pangs at bay while you starve yourself. Hold out your hand.”
Morning Dew remained motionless, unwilling to risk losing her nerve.
Heron Wing reached out, took her hand, and placed a piece of walnut-laced acorn bread in her palm. For long moments Morning Dew fought with herself.
In the end, rather than look like a fool, she lifted the bread to her mouth. After the first bite, she ate ravenously.
Just submit. Heron Wing’s voice echoed over and over in the hollow between her souls.
Smoke Shield blinked awake. How long had he slept? He glanced at the dim light and climbed to his feet. Gods, every muscle ached. With his foot, he slid the chamber bowl out from beneath his bed and relieved himself. Leaving the bowl in the middle of the floor for Thin Branch to attend to, he wrapped an apron around his waist and pulled his hair back. Finally he tugged moccasins onto his feet and grabbed a neatly folded blanket from the pile Thin Branch had left him.
Stepping into the palace hallway, he made his way to the main room with its hanging masks, trophy skulls, and the great hand-eye carving. A fire burned in the hearth, and Flying Hawk sat atop his three-legged chair. He was listening to a scout give his report. Seeing Smoke Shield, the high minko motioned him over and dismissed the man.
“You slept well?”
“I did. What time is it?”
“Late afternoon, I’m afraid. I’m surprised you’re up this early.” The high minko’s keen eyes hid a smile. “But then, I suppose you have things to see to?”
Smoke Shield deflected the question. “Who was that?”
“A scout. Freshly come from the Chahta lands where he’s been nosing around.”
“And?” A slow smile crept onto Smoke Shield’s face.
“Where are you off to?” Flying Hawk tried to distract him by pointing to the blanket.
“The river … and a bath. I smell of sweat and the tchkofa’s smoke. Then I’m ordering a fire kindled in my room and a meal delivered.” He paused, conjuring a confused look. “Oh, and I think there’s a slave that I need to inspect.”
“Drawing it out, aren’t you?” Flying Hawk asked as he stood from his stool. He winced, massaging his left knee, the one that pained him so often these days.
“The best things in life are taken slowly. I have waited a long time for this.”
“I’m sure you have.” He walked over to pick up a buffalo robe. “Mind if I accompany you? We need to talk. And not just about the scout’s report.”
“I am always honored, Uncle.”
Together they walked out into the day. Thin Branch was sitting in the sunlight, one of Smoke Shield’s copper pieces in his hands. The slave used a piece of cloth to polish the beaten metal. Seeing Smoke Shield, he leaped to his feet.
“My pot is full. Oh, and I would like a feast delivered to my room. I want a good fire, with a bed of coals. Make sure everything is in order and looking its best. Then, when you are sure I will be pleased, send for the slave.”