Savage Tempest

As they all went to their personal lodges to choose which weapons and horses would fit the night’s planned activities, High Hawk entered his own tepee and chose his weapons.

He sheathed his favorite knife at the right side of his waist, grabbed a rifle and the bag that he carried with him on his horse at all times, then hurried to his personal corral at the back of his lodge. This was where he kept the most valuable of his horses.

Elsewhere, he had two other corrals, hidden from anyone who might think of stealing his powerful steeds.

He took his favorite from the corral, a roan with a black mane and forelegs, and readied him for riding with his Indian saddle. He slid his rifle in the gunboot at one side of his horse, and secured his bag of provisions to the other, but just as he started to mount, he saw his brother, Sleeping Wolf, walking toward him.

His brother’s back was so twisted, he could not help dragging one foot as he walked. Although it hurt High Hawk to see what a struggle it was for his brother to walk, High Hawk had grown used to it and never allowed his brother to see pity in his eyes.

He smiled at Sleeping Wolf as his brother stopped beside him.

“Where are you going, my brother?” Sleeping Wolf asked, noting the rifle and the sheathed knife, and the bag of provisions that his brother always carried with him. He was prepared with food and water and weapons for any eventuality.

“On a search for horses,” High Hawk said. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the one that was more level than the other.

“You already have so many,” Sleeping Wolf said. He always took comfort from his brother’s touch, even if only for a moment. He did not envy his brother his handsomeness and perfect body. He admired and loved him.

“A proud warrior cannot have too many steeds,” High Hawk said, trying not to think about the other reason he was leaving his village tonight.

“I do not have any,” Sleeping Wolf said, hanging his head. “But of course I do not need any because of my inability to ride them.”

High Hawk took his hand from his brother’s shoulder and placed it beneath his chin. He slowly lifted it so that Sleeping Wolf’s eyes met his.

“My brother, you know that my horses are also yours,” High Hawk said. “Even though you cannot ride, they are yours anyhow.”

Sleeping Wolf smiled. “I do ride often, my brother,” he said softly. “In my dreams I am whole and able to ride. It is good to feel the wind against my face and to feel my hair blowing behind me.”

“You do feel those things in your dreams?” High Hawk said, marveling that his brother could imagine such feelings that he had never felt in reality.

“When I am dreaming, I feel no pain, but I experience everything in my dreams that I cannot when I am awake,” Sleeping Wolf said, nodding. “My brother, I have even flown in the sky with eagles!”

“I am glad that you can dream such dreams and experience things even I have not known,” High Hawk said. “I have never dreamed of flying with eagles.”

“The eagles are our brothers,” Sleeping Wolf said, slowly nodding. “You will dream one night that you, too, fly with them.”

“I hope so,” High Hawk said, looking past his brother as his warriors rode up on their steeds, some with bows and quivers of arrows, others with firearms.

He then hugged his brother, feeling a surge of compassion when he touched sleeping Wolf’s twisted back and heard him groan as he returned the hug.

“My heart is with you tonight as you ride,” Sleeping Wolf said. “I wish you well, my brother. I wish you a successful hunt.”

“I will bring home horses for us both,” High Hawk said, his mind drifting suddenly to what else he would be hunting tonight.

A white woman.

His ahte had said she would be standing in the path of the full moon.

Sleeping Wolf nodded and stepped back as High Hawk mounted his steed.

High Hawk wheeled his horse around, waved at his brother, then rode off with his warriors.

High Hawk gazed heavenward. “Tirawahut, Great Spirit, lead me in the direction that I should go tonight,” he whispered. “I cannot please both parents.”

CHAPTER TWO

The moon shone down on a small cabin, nestled in the forest far from humanity. Smoke spiraled lazily from the stone chimney, making its way through the tall trees that surrounded Joylynn Anderson’s home.

Nearby, a lone horse, a magnificent chestnut stallion, grazed in a small corral. Joylynn had constructed it herself after arriving at this abandoned log cabin only a few weeks ago.