Akicita waited on the porch, wrapped in red and black wool. His lips spread across his face, deepening the wrinkles in his cheeks. He reached out a shaky hand and lifted my chin. His voice was as salving as the smoke drifting from his pipe. “We hunt many things. The Lakota show you the hunt for feather and fur. You show the Lakota the hunt for truth. Together, we will learn.”
I understood his proverbs as well as I understood the complexity of his gaze. But the hope in his eyes empowered me, made me want to succeed. No matter the road or the expectation.
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“No, Spotted Wing. You certainly won’t.” Then he followed Badger back to the snow-fed stream.
The thawing banks gurgled as it drank up the melting snow. Barren of leaves, the forest hid little between glistening trunks and skeletal thickets. I shivered and reached for the door to shed the wet clothes.
The hairs on my nape prickled, had me looking over my shoulder with the sensation of being watched. A shadow darted between the trees, moving toward me. I released a dagger from my arm sheath.
The figure floated closer, gliding with the finesse of a predator who knew its prey wouldn’t run. Then his copper eyes glinted. I crossed my arms, the dagger’s hilt warm in my fist.
His bow hugged his back, tomahawk on his hip. He closed the distance between us, his gait slow and lethal, his stare never leaving mine.
Our interactions were few, yet I was certain he watched me. I pushed back my shoulders and pretended he didn’t unnerve me. And why did he unnerve me? Was it his sinful beauty? His bed ruffled hair? The flex of his muscles when he flung arrows from the bow? Perhaps it was the flame in his eyes as he looked at me. Like he was doing at that moment. A throb sang below my waist. Jesus, stop looking at me.
His scowl deepened as he stepped onto the porch. “You’re hunting today.”
“Word travels fast.”
“One only needs to open their eyes.”
I followed his gaze to the stream. The others stood over a myriad of bows and knives wearing grins even wider than usual. Badger’s hands waved in the air, illustrating whatever was spewing from his overworked jaws. I smiled, but it fell away when I looked back at Jesse. There was something in his eyes so unlike the frown on his face.
I held his stare, an effort that made me squirm. “You coming?”
The fire in his eyes turned into an inferno. Quiet wrapped around us, tempered by the dripping snow.
“Because I really savor all our tender interactions.” My sarcasm was obvious, right?
His brows collected in a frown. “Wouldn’t miss a show of you lopping off a limb.” A smirk defiled his gorgeous face. Then he vanished inside the cabin.
What a dick.
We broke our fast with a quasi-succotash of corn, pine nuts and fish, washed down with hickory coffee. Then Badger and Naalnish mounted the trail, each carrying a tomahawk and a bow. The latter man packed a six-foot longbow. I felt naked with only the blades on my arms.
Darwin ran to our side. I patted his head. “I’m sorry, boy. You’re staying with Akicita. Bleib.”
“Even though you taught us those commands,” Badger said, “he still listens better to you.”
“Then maybe I’ll start using the commands on you,” I replied, but my attention focused on the barren tree line.
He leaned in. “Don’t worry. He’s near. He doesn’t let you out of his sight.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Jesse? That’s…it’s weird.”
He shrugged and gave me a lopsided smile. Then the hike began. Single file, Badger cleared the path with a long stick and Naalnish erased the trail in our wake. A few miles up the mountain, I slowed to walk next to Naalnish. “Why cover our tracks?”
“We are trackers. So we understand what it is to be tracked. We do not want to tempt our enemy.”
The Lakota believed all things were woven together in a network of life and energy. Meaning killing aphids could break the fragile threads that connected us. Oh, they killed when they needed to. But they went to great efforts to protect the web they held dear. “So cover our scent, aphids stay away, the web remains balanced?”
He knew I asked to satisfy curiosity, not because I shared their beliefs. He resettled a bed of leaves and nodded. “The web of life catches dreams, you know.”
I remembered the trinkets sold in the old west souvenir shops. Willow hoops and horse hair made to look like a web, fringed with feathers and beads.
“Maybe there are dreams that shouldn’t be caught,” I said.
“Use the threads to trap the good, Spotted Wing. Lead the bad to the center, let it fall through the hole.”
I didn’t know what my face held, but if his laugh was anything to go by, I was sure it revealed my doubt. With a gentle hand on my back, he moved me in front of him and reformed the line.