Savage Illusions

"I will tell our pe­op­le," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, ta­king her hand and kis­sing its palm.

Then he mo­ved to his fe­et. "Let us get dres­sed and go to our pe­op­le," he sa­id, of­fe­ring Jole­na a hand. "Wit­ho­ut us, the new bri­de and gro­om, the­re is no true ce­leb­ra­ti­on."

Jolena hur­ri­ed in­to her clot­hes, and Spot­ted Eag­le pul­led his bre­ec­h­c­lo­ut on and step­ped in­to his black moc­ca­sins. Then he went to Jole­na and reb­ra­ided her ha­ir which had co­me lo­ose du­ring the­ir lo­ve­ma­king.

"It is now ti­me to go," he sa­id, ta­king her hand. He lo­oked slowly aro­und him at the be­a­uti­ful lod­ge. "Ta­ke a last lo­ok. This will be go­ne by sun­ri­se to­mor­row. It has ser­ved its pur­po­se."

Jolena felt a twin­ge of sad­ness as she ga­zed aro­und the lod­ge, then smi­led softly as she lo­oked down at the mus­sed-up blan­kets, still thril­ling in­si­de from the las­ting ef­fects of Spot­ted Eag­le's lo­ve­ma­king.

Then she tur­ned and left the lod­ge with her be­lo­ved.

Soon they we­re ca­ta­pul­ted in­to the midst of the ce­leb­ra­ti­on. As the drums vib­ra­ted and spo­ke to the spi­rits, the war­ri­ors and wi­ves chan­ted and dan­ced. The yo­ung bra­ves with the­ir bril­li­ant ra­iment, gra­ce and agi­lity, we­re dan­cing the an­ci­ent fe­at­her dan­ce, not for the pur­po­se of im­p­res­sing the ot­her bra­ves, but to im­p­ress the yo­ung girls ma­tu­ring in­to wo­man­ho­od whom they wo­uld ha­ve, if only in the­ir mid­night dre­ams.

Chief Gray Be­ar, le­aning he­avily on his staff, met Jole­na and Spot­ted Eag­le's ad­van­ce in­to the crowd. He step­ped be­fo­re them and ga­ve Jole­na a warm hug, then ga­ve Spot­ted Eag­le a so­lid em­b­ra­ce. " No-ko-i, my son, you ha­ve gi­ven this fat­her a be­a­uti­ful da­ug­h­ter-in-law," he whis­pe­red in­to Spot­ted Eag­le's ear. "You ma­ke this old man wish he we­re yo­ung aga­in."

Spotted Eag­le ga­ve his fat­her se­ve­ral fond pats on the back, chuc­k­ling, then step­ped away from him when Brown Elk ca­me up be­hind Spot­ted Eag­le's fat­her, smi­ling bro­adly from Jole­na to Spot­ted Eag­le.

Brown Elk then step­ped bet­we­en them, put­ting an arm aro­und the­ir wa­ists as he ga­zed from one to the ot­her. "My da­ug­h­ter, Spot­ted Eag­le is a bra­ve war­ri­or, a man of go­od cha­rac­ter," he sa­id. " Kyi! Spot­ted Eag­le is so­ber

-min­ded, ste­ad­fast, and trus­t­worthy. I know Spot­ted Eag­le will ma­ke a go­od hus­band."

Spotted Eag­le step­ped away from Brown Elk. He drew Jole­na to his si­de and pla­ced an arm aro­und her wa­ist. "The words of both my fat­hers to­day warm this war­ri­or's he­art," he sa­id. "This war­ri­or will try to li­ve up to all ex­pec­ta­ti­ons as a hus­band to this won­der­ful wo­man at my si­de."

Then re­mem­be­ring that ever­yo­ne ne­eded to be told abo­ut Jole­na's na­me chan­ge, he wal­ked her to the cen­ter of the vil­la­ge, whe­re her lod­ge had sto­od for only a short whi­le. Spot­ted Eag­le ra­ised a hand in the air, mo­men­ta­rily gi­ving pa­use to the ce­leb­ra­ti­on.

"Here stands a happy man!" he sho­uted.

He ga­ve Jole­na a soft smi­le. "He­re stands a happy wo­man," he sa­id softly, but with much fe­eling.

Then he ga­zed slowly aro­und him at his rapt audi­en­ce. "My wi­fe not only ga­ins a hus­band to­day, but al­so a new na­me!" he sa­id, his vo­ice ec­ho­ing ac­ross the land, thro­ugh the fo­rest, and in­to the hills and mo­un­ta­ins. "She is now cal­led Fawn!"

There was a mo­ment mo­re of si­len­ce, then the drums we­re be­ating aga­in and ever­yo­ne was chan­ting, the chants so­on tur­ning in­to songs as the wo­men, most dres­sed in ga­la dres­ses em­b­ro­ide­red with rib­bon work, be­gan brin­ging gifts to Jole­na and Spot­ted Eag­le, la­ying them at the­ir fe­et. Many of the pre­sents we­re dri­ed me­ats, pem­mi­can and ber­ri­es, and items of clot­hes such as black moc­ca­sins, han­d­so­me he­ad­bands, and be­a­uti­ful nec­k­la­ces and bra­ce­lets.

Moon Flo­wer sto­od in li­ne, pa­ti­ently wa­iting, and then she step­ped in front of Jole­na and held her gift out to her, in­s­te­ad of la­ying it on the gro­und.

"Fawn, this gift I gi­ve you to­day was ma­de by my gran­d­mot­her's hands," Mo­on Flo­wer sa­id softly. "It is with much lo­ve for you that I hand this spe­ci­al gift over to you for yo­ur wed­ding pre­sent."

Jolena was to­uc­hed de­eply by the ge­ne­ro­sity of this yo­ung wo­man who had re­cently lost so much, yet still fo­und gi­ving so easy. "It is so lo­vely," she mur­mu­red, as she sta­red down at what was eit­her a blan­ket or rug. "Are you cer­ta­in that you wish to part with it?"

"It wo­uld ple­ase Mo­on Flo­wer very much," Mo­on Flo­wer mur­mu­red. "It is the best that Mo­on Flo­wer has to gi­ve."

Jolena re­ac­hed her arms out and al­lo­wed Mo­on Flo­wer to dra­pe the lo­vely gar­ment over them. And as tho­ugh Mo­on Flo­wer had re­ad Jole­na's tho­ughts, she ex­p­la­ined the me­aning of the gift to her.

''This is a pra­yer rug," Mo­on Flo­wer mur­mu­red, kno­wing the many ho­urs it had to ha­ve ta­ken her gran­d­mot­her to ma­ke the rug from a de­er­s­kin. She had first tan­ned the skin and then sof­te­ned it using the bra­ins ta­ken from the skull of the ani­mal. She had then pla­ced her de­signs and symbols on it, so­me with pa­ints, ot­hers with shells and be­ad­work.

"See how it is so in­t­ri­ca­tely or­na­men­ted with symbols and pra­yer tho­ughts ador­ning the skin in ce­re­mo­ni­al co­lors?" Mo­on Flo­wer sa­id, stret­c­hing the rug out so that it co­uld be mo­re easily ad­mi­red. "See the whi­te clo­uds and whi­te flo­wers, the sun god and the cur­ve of the mo­on? Abo­ve it all zig­zag li­nes run thro­ugh the blue of the sky to de­no­te the lig­h­t­ning by which the chil­d­ren abo­ve sent the­ir dec­re­es to the earth chil­d­ren who ro­am the pla­ins. It is for you to use, my fri­end, as you send yo­ur da­ily pra­yers to the sun, mo­on, and stars."

Tears flo­wed down Jole­na's che­eks. "Thank you," she sa­id, gat­he­ring the rug ac­ross her one arm so that it ga­ve her ro­om to hug Mo­on Flo­wer. "I shall che­rish this rug, fo­re­ver and ever."

Moon Flo­wer re­tur­ned the hug, then ges­tu­red with a hand to­ward the fe­ast that had be­en pre­pa­red for the ce­leb­ra­ti­on. "I know that you did not sle­ep last night, nor did you eat to­day," she sa­id in a mot­herly to­ne. "It is ti­me now to sit down and eat yo­ur fill." La­ug­hing softly, Jole­na nod­ded. "Yes, mot­her," she te­ased.

Moon Flo­wer to­ok the pra­yer rug. "I will ta­ke this to Spot­ted Eag­le's lod­ge which is now al­so yo­urs, for sa­fe-ke­eping," she sa­id, then wal­ked in a skip­ping fas­hi­on away from Jole­na.

"She se­ems so happy," Jole­na sa­id, ga­zing up at Spot­ted Eag­le as they sat down on a blan­ket. The­ir fat­hers sat to­get­her ne­arby, chat­ting and al­re­ady eating.

"I know her well," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, as One Who Walks With A Limp ser­ved Jole­na, then Spot­ted Eag­le, a bowl of ste­aming gre­ens, lit­tle cor­n­ca­kes dri­ed in oil from sun­f­lo­wer se­eds, and pi­les of me­at co­oked in va­ri­o­us ways.

Spotted Eag­le nod­ded a thank-you to the el­derly wo­man, then con­ti­nu­ed spe­aking with Jole­na. "Yes, I know Mo­on Flo­wer well and she may ap­pe­ar happy, but in her eyes I see much sad­ness," he sa­id, nod­ding his he­ad.