Savage Illusions

"You must wrap yo­ur brot­her snugly in the­se," Mo­on Flo­wer sa­id, la­ying the ro­bes ac­ross Jole­na's out­s­t­ret­c­hed arms. Mo­on Flo­wer lo­oked aro­und her, then back in­to Jole­na's eyes aga­in. "Whi­le you wrap yo­ur brot­her, I will carry his be­lon­gings from his dwel­ling."

Jolena swal­lo­wed hard, then pro­ce­eded to wrap Two Rid­ges with first one fur ro­be, then anot­her, un­til at le­ast eight we­re fit­ted snugly aro­und him.

Moon Flo­wer ca­me to Jole­na. "Ever­y­t­hing that Two Rid­ges pos­ses­sed is now car­ri­ed to his gra­ve­si­te," she mur­mu­red. "Now, my fri­end, let us dis­man­t­le his te­pee so that you can then use the lod­ge co­ve­ring for his fi­nal wrap."

Jolena's eyes wi­de­ned. "That is re­qu­ired?" she whis­pe­red harshly. "That you and I te­ar down the te­pee whi­le Two Rid­ges still li­es wit­hin the cir­c­le of its ba­se?"

"That is how it is do­ne," Mo­on Flo­wer sa­id, nod­ding.

Sighing he­avily, Jole­na fol­lo­wed along af­ter Mo­on Flo­wer and be­gan lo­ose­ning the buc­k­s­kin straps that held the te­pee se­cu­rely to the lod­ge po­les. A short ti­me la­ter, ever­y­t­hing was dis­man­t­led and Two Rid­ges' body lay be­ne­ath the lod­ge po­les that still sto­od in the­ir ori­gi­nal sha­pe, be­fo­re the skins we­re wrap­ped aro­und them.

Jolena felt a col­d­ness rush over her flesh as she ga­zed slowly aro­und her at the ba­re lod­ge po­les, thin­king they lo­oked li­ke the ske­le­ton of a de­ad lod­ge.

The sud­den dro­ne of a drum be­gan so­mew­he­re in the dis­tan­ce. Mo­ur­n­ful songs and chants fil­led the air as pe­op­le fi­led one by one from the­ir dwel­lings and ca­me to stand in a wi­de cir­c­le aro­und Two Rid­ges' de­mo­lis­hed te­pee.

Jolena gas­ped when her Blac­k­fo­ot fat­her ca­me in­to vi­ew, wal­king so­lemnly from the pur­p­le sha­dows of the fo­rest on the one si­de of the vil­la­ge. In his mo­ur­ning, he had pa­in­ted him­self black and had cut off his long, thick bra­ids, and had dis­car­ded his leg­gings, re­ve­aling that he, al­so, had sca­ri­fi­ed his legs.

Jolena's at­ten­ti­on was drawn back to Mo­on Flo­wer, as Mo­on Flo­wer grun­ted and gro­aned with the we­ight of the skins that had be­en tak- en from the lod­ge po­les of the te­pee.

Jolena went to her res­cue, and bet­we­en them they we­re fi­nal­ly ab­le to get Two Rid­ges' body wrap­ped, then la­ced with raw­hi­de ro­pes.

Spotted Eag­le and se­ve­ral war­ri­ors ca­me in­to vi­ew. So­lemnly, they went to Two Rid­ges' body. So­me sto­od at his he­ad, ot­hers at his fe­et. Spot­ted Eag­le nod­ded, gi­ving a si­lent or­der to the war­ri­ors to help him carry Two Rid­ges to his bu­ri­al si­te.

Jolena fell back from the ot­hers, fe­eling that her duty to her brot­her had be­en do­ne. She wan­ted to com­fort Mo­on Flo­wer, who was wal­king be­si­de her crying and wa­iling. But she felt too aw­k­ward even be­ing the­re, much less trying to gi­ve an­yo­ne any com­fort.

The pro­ces­si­on wal­ked in­to the fo­rest and slowly thro­ugh it un­til it ca­me to a hill, upon which sto­od a lo­ne tree. Upon its bran­c­hes had be­en ar­ran­ged a plat­form of lod­ge po­les.

The bun­d­le was pla­ced on the plat­form, along with Two Rid­ges' fa­vo­ri­te we­apons, his me­di­ci­ne bun­d­le, and his war clot­hing.

Jolena had so­lemnly wat­c­hed how re­ve­rently ever­yo­ne then pas­sed be­ne­ath the plat­form, pla­cing the­ir gifts on the gro­und be­ne­ath it.

When Jole­na he­ard a com­mo­ti­on be­hind her, she tur­ned with a start and wat­c­hed, puz­zled, as a yo­ung bra­ve ca­me wal­king to­ward Brown Elk, a ro­pe le­ading Two Rid­ges' mag­ni­fi­cent hor­se be­hind him.

Brown Elk to­ok pos­ses­si­on of the hor­se and led it be­ne­ath the plat­form upon which lay his only son.

Jolena felt fa­int when, wit­ho­ut he­si­ta­ti­on, her Blac­k­fo­ot fat­her drew a sharp kni­fe from a she­ath at his si­de and plun­ged it in­to the hor­se, over and over aga­in, un­til it was de­ad and lying in a po­ol of blo­od on the gro­und be­ne­ath him.

Scarcely bre­at­hing, her eyes wi­de, Jole­na then wat­c­hed Brown Elk rep­la­ce the kni­fe in its she­ath, then hold his out­s­t­ret­c­hed hands up to Two Rid­ges' bun­d­led body.

" No- ko-i, my son, now you will ha­ve yo­ur fa­vo­ri­te hor­se to ri­de on yo­ur jo­ur­ney to the Sand Hills," he cri­ed. "And to use af­ter ar­ri­ving the­re!"

There was a pa­use, then ever­yo­ne tur­ned and wal­ked slowly back to­ward the­ir vil­la­ge. Spot­ted Eag­le to­ok Jole­na by the el­bow, us­he­ring her away from the bu­ri­al si­te. She lo­oked over her sho­ul­der, wat­c­hing her fat­her as he wal­ked in anot­her di­rec­ti­on.

"He will mo­urn alo­ne for a whi­le, then co­me to you as a fat­her aga­in," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id softly. "When he co­mes to you then, all tho­ughts of a son will be for

­got­ten. He has a da­ug­h­ter now to fill the empty spa­ces in his he­art that the de­ath of his son has left."

"I just want this day to be over," Jole­na sa­id, te­ars flo­oding her eyes. "Ta­ke me ho­me, Spot­ted Eag­le. I want you to hold me."

"I will hold you un­til yo­ur te­ars are was­hed from yo­ur eye­sand hold you even lon­ger, if you so de­si­re," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, pla­cing an arm aro­und her wa­ist and dra­wing her pro­tec­ti­vely to his si­de. "My wo­man, I will al­ways be the­re to hold you. Al­ways."

"How did I ever exist wit­ho­ut you?" Jole­na mur­mu­red, a sob cat­c­hing in her thro­at. "Su­rely I wan­de­red thro­ugh each day only half awa­re of things aro­und me!"

"I fe­el the sa­me," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id. "Until you, the­re was truly no pur­po­se to my li­fe."

"But now we ha­ve fo­re­ver, don't we?" Jole­na sa­id, ga­zing raptly up at him.

"Forever," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, nod­ding. In his he­art, he was thin­king abo­ut what he had plan­ned for to­mor­row­t­hat he wo­uld be se­ar­c­hing for Kirk, kno­wing that to do so wo­uld be pla­cing him and his many war­ri­ors in dan­ger.