Savage Illusions

Then just as qu­ickly, she re­ac­hed her ot­her hand out to him and a gra­te­ful sob lod­ged in her thro­at as she smi­led thro­ug

h te­ar­ful eyes up at him.

"I am go­ing to pull you up slowly," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id thro­atily.

Spotted Eag­le's he­art was fil­led with gra­ti­tu­de that Old Man, the chi­ef god of the Blac­k­fo­ot, had he­ard his si­lent ple­as and had an­s­we­red them. He now knew, be­yond a sha­dow of a do­ubt, that it was his and Jole­na's des­tiny to be to­get­her, to sha­re li­fe as tho­ugh one so­ul and one he­ar­t­be­at.

Today was pro­of eno­ugh to him that they we­re me­ant for one anot­her, for ot­her­wi­se, she wo­uld ha­ve not be­en gi­ven back to him, as tho­ugh a gift from the gods!

Jolena scar­cely bre­at­hed as Spot­ted Eag­le slowly drew her up the si­de of the cliff. She co­uld he­ar the ro­ar of the wa­ter­fall on one si­de of her, al­most de­afe­ning, and the crash of the wa­ter be­low, whe­re she wo­uld ha­ve su­rely fal­len to her de­ath.

Tears rus­hed from her eyes aga­in as she ga­zed up at Spot­ted Eag­le who had ris­ked his li­fe to sa­ve hers. She wan­ted to be held in the pro­tec­ti­ve co­co­on of his arms, ne­ver to part from him aga­in!

She wan­ted to find ways to thank him, for she wo­uld al­ways be in his debt.

"Soon you will be sa­fe," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, as he wor­ked hard at ke­eping hold of her. Al­t­ho­ugh she was slight in bu­ild, his sho­ul­der and arm mus­c­les we­re stra­ining as he strug­gled to pull her up in this aw­k­ward way.

Jolena saw that she was al­most ab­le to re­ach up with her kne­es, to help pla­ce her­self on so­lid land. She le­aned aga­inst the si­de of the cliff, the sharp ed­ges of the rocks pi­er­cing her blo­use and cut­ting in­to her bre­asts as she was pul­led up to sa­fety. Her kne­es ga­ve her that last bo­ost she ne­eded as she pus­hed her­self up and fell down limply be­si­de Spot­ted Eag­le.

He drew her fi­er­cely in­to his arms and held her clo­se, his fa­ce bur­ro­wed in the depths of her black ha­ir. "My wo­man," he whis­pe­red, easing her away from the ed­ge of the cliff as he held her tightly wit­hin his ac­hing arms. "You are sa­fe now, my wo­man." Jole­na sob­bed as she clung to him. "If not for you, I wo­uld ha­ve di­ed," she cri­ed, her te­ars so­aking his buc­k­s­kin shirt as she pres­sed her che­ek hard aga­inst his chest. "Thank you. My dar­ling, thank you."

So glad to ha­ve his wo­man sa­fe in his arms, Spot­ted Eag­le was spe­ec­h­less. He held on to her, yet lo­oked past her sho­ul­der at Two Rid­ges and Kirk, glo­we­ring at them be­ca­use of the­ir co­war­di­ce. He co­uld un­der­s­tand the whi­te man's fa­ilu­re to sa­ve his wo­man, for he was too lac­king in mus­c­le to ha­ve drag­ged her up to sa­fety.

But Two Rid­ges? He was a nob­le Blac­k­fo­ot who­se bra­very and co­ura­ge had ne­ver fal­te­red, es­pe­ci­al­ly when a wo­man's li­fe was at sta­ke!

As Spot­ted Eag­le's eyes loc­ked with Two Rid­ges, he saw so­met­hing mo­re than sha­me. It was as tho­ugh Two Rid­ges was hi­ding a se­et­hing an­ger wit­hin his eyes, and this puz­zled Spot­ted Eag­le.

Spotted Eag­le was the one who had ca­use to be angry at his brot­her Blac­k­fo­ot! Two Rid­ges sho­uld be ben­ding his he­ad in sha­me, not def­ying his fri­end with a ste­ady, angry sta­re, his jaw tight, his lips pur­sed tightly to­get­her.

Not un­der­s­tan­ding his fri­end's stran­ge at­ti­tu­de, Spot­ted Eag­le wren­c­hed his eyes away, in­s­te­ad fo­cu­sing his full at­ten­ti­on on his wo­man. Pla­cing his hands on each si­de of her fa­ce, he lif­ted her ga­ze to his.

"Let us re­turn to the camp," he sa­id. He glan­ced down at her torn clot­hes, win­cing when he saw the blo­od­s­ta­ins on her skirt. His ga­ze mo­ved slowly up­ward, stop­ping whe­re her blo­use was torn, par­ti­al­ly ex­po­sing her bre­asts. He suc­ked in a wild gulp of air when he dis­co­ve­red blo­od oozing from a wo­uld on one of her bre­asts, the blo­od spre­ading along the whi­te fab­ric of her blo­use.

Without fur­t­her tho­ught, and ig­no­ring Kirk's angry sta­re, Spot­ted Eag­le whis­ked Jole­na qu­ickly up in­to his arms and be­gan car­rying her down the si­de of the hill. He held her ne­ar, his fin­gers grip­ping her as gently as pos­sib­le as she le­aned aga­inst him, her che­ek pres­sed aga­inst his chest.

''I lo­ve you," Jole­na sa­id, twi­ning her arm aro­und his neck, pul­ling her­self up so that she co­uld brush a soft kiss ac­ross his lips. "I shall al­ways che­rish you."

"No mo­re than I, you," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, ga­zing down at her with he­avy eye­lids. "Sho­uld you ha­ve di­ed…"

Jolena pla­ced a fin­ger softly to his lips, si­len­cing his fur­t­her words. "Dar­ling, I didn't," she mur­mu­red. "But only be­ca­use of you. I don't un­der­s­tand why Kirk and Two Rid­ges…"

Spotted Eag­le was the one this ti­me to pla­ce fin­ger to lips. He se­aled hers with his fin­ger, not wan­ting her to was­te her bre­ath wor­rying abo­ut things that sho­uld ha­ve be­en.

This was now. She was ali­ve. She was sa­fely with him. They we­re in lo­ve.

He did not want to ta­ke the ti­me and ef­fort to cast bla­me.

He wo­uld now be the­re, al­ways, for her. If ever he we­re cal­led to his vil­la­ge for true re­asons, he wo­uld ta­ke her with him!

No one wo­uld get the chan­ce to trick him aga­in!

This ti­me such fo­olis­h­ness had al­most cost his wo­man her li­fe. If he had ven­tu­red on to his vil­la­ge, Jole­na wo­uld most cer­ta­inly ha­ve di­ed!

The tho­ught ma­de an ac­he cir­c­le his he­art, so he cast the tho­ught asi­de and cen­te­red all of his at­ten­ti­on on ma­king Jole­na com­for­tab­le af­ter her ter­rif­ying ex­pe­ri­en­ce of only mo­ments ago.

When they ar­ri­ved at the camp and ever­yo­ne cir­c­led aro­und Jole­na and Spot­ted Eag­le with fren­zi­ed qu­es­ti­ons af­ter se­e­ing Jole­na's con­di­ti­on, Spot­ted Eag­le an­s­we­red the­ir qu­es­ti­ons qu­ickly, then pit­c­hed Jole­na's tent and they so­ught re­fu­ge wit­hin, alo­ne, away from ever­yo­ne and ever­y­t­hing but them­sel­ves as night fell in its pur­p­le and black sha­dows over the land.

"Remove yo­ur blo­use and skirt," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id as he wrung out a cloth in a ba­sin of wa­ter that sat on the flo­or of the tent. "Let me bat­he yo­ur wo­unds whi­le you tell me how you hap­pe­ned to fall over the cliff."