Savage Illusions

"Your rif­le will gu­ard this war­ri­or as he go­es in­to the camp alo­ne," he sa­id to Do­ub­le Run­ner. "If you so­on see that the­re is no thre­at of a Cree am­bush, co­me to me and help me with the whi­te man. If he is ali­ve, he will ne­ed no­uris­h­ment qu­ickly and a tra­vo­is ma­de for his re­turn to our vil­la­ge. You will help Spot­ted Eag­le do the­se things. Do you un­der­s­tand?" Do­ub­le Run­ner nod­ded.

Spotted Eag­le wa­ited un­til he tho­ught that his men sho­uld be in a wi­de cir­c­le aro­und the aban­do­ned camp, then crept out in­to the open, an ar­row not­c­hed to his bow. With wary eyes, he kept a gu­ar­ded lo­ok on all si­des of him as he mo­ved to­ward Kirk.

When he ca­me clo­ser to Kirk, he re­ali­zed now how the Cree had go­ne abo­ut pre­pa­ring the­ir whi­te cap­ti­ve for the sta­ke. They had smo­ot­hed a cot­ton­wo­od tree by ta­king off the bark and had pa­in­ted it black. They had then sto­od Kirk aga­inst it and fas­te­ned him the­re with a gre­at many ro­pes.

After they had Kirk se­cu­red eno­ugh so that he co­uld not mo­ve, they had pa­in­ted his fa­ce black.

Spotted Eag­le co­uld even now he­ar how the Cree re­ne­ga­des wo­uld ha­ve ma­de a pra­yer, gi­ving Kirk to the Sun.

And they had left him for the Sun, sky, mo­on and any ani­mals that might hap­pen along.

Spotted Eag­le to­ok the last step to stand in front of Kirk, shud­de­ring at his ap­pe­aran­ce and the many small wo­unds that had be­en in­f­lic­ted by the Cree wo­men and chil­d­ren. Be­fo­re he had lap­sed in­to a de­ep sle­ep, he had suf­fe­red much at the hands of his ab­duc­tors!

Thinking of Jole­na wa­iting back at his vil­la­ge, Spot­ted Eag­le he­si­ta­ted to pla­ce a fin­ger to the ve­in at Kirk's neck, fe­aring that he wo­uld dis­co­ver that her whi­te brot­her had not li­ved thro­ugh the or­de­al. But he had to know. Lif­ting his free hand to Kirk's blac­ke­ned neck, Spot­ted Eag­le so­ught for a pul­se, for a mo­ment fe­aring the­re was no­ne.

Then he smi­led and nod­ded, fi­nal­ly fin­ding one, even tho­ugh fa­int and slow.

Double Run­ner ca­me to Spot­ted Eag­le's si­de as his ot­her war­ri­ors emer­ged from hi­ding, one by one. The­re se­emed to be no Cree an­y­w­he­re. As Cree war par­ti­es we­re wont to do, they had mo­ved on­ward to wre­ak ha­voc el­sew­he­re.

"Is he ali­ve?" Do­ub­le Run­ner as­ked, le­aning clo­se to Kirk stud­ying him.

" Kyi. Ba­rely," Spot­ted Eag­le grum­b­led, la­ying his bow on the gro­und. He drew his hu­ge kni­fe from its she­ath at his right si­de. "Lay yo­ur rif­le asi­de, Do­ub­le Run­ner. As I cut this man's ro­pes, you catch him."

Spotted Eag­le ga­zed aro­und at his ot­her war­ri­ors. "A tra­vo­is must be pre­pa­red," he or­de­red them. " Hai-yah! Qu­ickly! We must not tempt fa­te by re­ma­ining he­re any lon­ger than is re­qu­ired to pre­pa­re this man for tra­ve­ling back to our vil­la­ge. Among us, we sho­uld ha­ve plenty of ro­bes and skins for his bed­ding!"

Everyone scur­ri­ed in­to ac­ti­on as Spot­ted Eag­le mo­ved his kni­fe to­ward the first ro­pe, then stop­ped with a start when Kirk slowly be­gan lif­ting his he­ad, his eyes so­on fin­ding Spot­ted Eag­le's.

"Thank God," Kirk whis­pe­red ras­pily, his thro­at dry and par­c­hed. "I… wo­uldn't ha­ve las­ted anot­her ho­ur. Thank you, Spot­ted Eag­le. Thank… you." Kirk's he­ad lo­we­red aga­in and his eyes clo­sed. Spot­ted Eag­le hur­ri­edly cut the ro­pes and so­on Kirk was free. Wo­un­ded and we­ak, he fell to the gro­und be­fo­re Do­ub­le Run­ner or Spot­ted Eag­le co­uld catch him.

Spotted Eag­le slip­ped his kni­fe back in­to its she­ath and fell to his kne­es be­si­de Kirk. He be­gan rub­bing his limbs in an ef­fort to put li­fe back in­to them.

Kirk slowly ope­ned his eyes aga­in. "You wo­uld do all of this for me?" he sa­id in a raspy whis­per.

"I do this for yo­ur sis­ter," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, his vo­ice drawn.

Spotted Eag­le con­ti­nu­ed rub­bing Kirk's limbs for a whi­le lon­ger, then lif­ted him up in­to his arms and car­ri­ed him to a pla­ce whe­re he had se­en many sar­vis ber­ri­es. Af­ter la­ying Kirk down be­si­de the bus­hes that we­re he­avy-la­den with fru­it, he bro­ke off gre­at bran­c­hes of it. He pluc­ked a lar­ge, ri­pe berry from the branch and held it to Kirk's mo­uth.

"To get strength, eat," he sa­id softly. "The­se will qu­ench yo­ur thirst as well as yo­ur hun­ger."

Kirk cho­ked on the first berry, then on­ce his thro­at was re­ac­qu­a­in­t

ed with fo­od and li­qu­id, he ate them as qu­ickly as Spot­ted Eag­le co­uld get them in­to his mo­uth.

Spotted Eag­le bro­ke off mo­re bran­c­hes full of the ri­pe ber­ri­es and con­ti­nu­ed fe­eding them to Kirk un­til a tra­vo­is was com­p­le­ted and at­tac­hed by long po­les be­hind his stal­li­on, se­ve­ral knots in the raw­hi­de thongs se­cu­ring the tra­vo­is po­les to the hor­se's sad­dle. " Tsis-ico­me, whi­te brot­her. We will le­ave now," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, on­ce aga­in lif­ting Kirk in­to his arms and car­rying him to the tra­vo­is. "So­on you will be with yo­ur sis­ter aga­in."

Spotted Eag­le la­id Kirk on a bed of pelts, then wrap­ped him se­cu­rely with the hi­des of the me­di­ci­ne ani­mal, the gre­at be­ar.

Giving Kirk anot­her lin­ge­ring sta­re, se­e­ing that he was as­le­ep aga­in, Spot­ted Eag­le then swung him­self in­to his sad­dle. With a ra­ised hand, he ga­ve the si­lent or­der to he­ad back to­ward the­ir vil­la­ge.

Double Run­ner ro­de on ahe­ad of the ot­hers, his eyes ever wat­c­h­ful for an am­bush, gra­te­ful to find the path qu­i­et and pe­ace­ful for the­ir re­turn to the­ir pe­op­le.

Spotted Eag­le ro­de in a soft lo­pe, to ma­ke the ri­de as com­for­tab­le as pos­sib­le for Jole­na's brot­her as the po­les of the tra­vo­is bo­un­ced and jos­t­led thro­ugh tall gras­ses and along rock-st­rewn co­ule­es. He had not ta­ken the ti­me to re­mo­ve the black pa­int from Kirk's body, af­ra­id that al­lo­wing ti­me for that might gi­ve any pas­sing war party the op­por­tu­nity to at­tack.

Spotted Eag­le was glad that he had not be­en for­ced to at­tack a Cree camp fil­led with wo­men and chil­d­ren just to res­cue a whi­te man. Al­t­ho­ugh the Cree we­re res­pon­sib­le for Two Rid­ges' de­ath, Spot­ted Eag­le co­uld not bla­me them all for the act of one man­Long No­se! Nor co­uld he bla­me the ot­hers for what this par­ti­cu­lar band of re­ne­ga­des had cho­sen to do to Kirk. It was not for Spot­ted Eag­le to know why they did any of the­se things, but al­ways to gu­ard aga­inst ot­her at­tempts!

The mor­ning ca­me with a fa­int tint of pink to the sky as Spot­ted Eag­le ro­de in­to his vil­la­ge. The so­und of the­ir hor­ses drew the Blac­k­fo­ot pe­op­le from the­ir te­pe­es, Jole­na among them as she clut­c­hed a blan­ket aro­und her sho­ul­ders.

Jolena's eyes we­re wi­de and her pul­se ra­ced as she ran from her fat­her's te­pee, half stum­b­ling in her eager­ness to get to Spot­ted Eag­le and the tra­vo­is that he pul­led be­hind his hor­se.