~Chapter Three: Part I~

                                    

                                          
Red Thunder (Wakíŋyaŋ Lúta):
                          
The motion of the huge horse jarred me painfully — repeatedly jostling my wound and making my injured head throb harder. I bit back a groan and felt my savior's small hand squeeze my leg in reassurance. I smiled despite the pain. Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka, theGreat Spirit, had led me to the girl Winnie once again, just as I thought he might. I had been traveling to the place where we had met all those years ago when I was shot. It was ironic that it had instead been herwho had found me.
                          
But Winnie was no longer a girl. She was a young woman, and the most beautiful I had ever seen. The color of her skin made no difference to me, rather it was intriguing, and I suspect she felt the same way about me. 
                          
I began to drift away again, memories playing out before my eyes, memories of the time we had first met all those years ago...
                          
It had been a sweltering day during Wipazuke Waste Wi — the Time When Berries are Good. I was about twelve winters old. I had just put the finishing touches on my new raft, the first I had ever made all by myself. My father was impressed, which brought me much pride.
                          
My two friends Takoda and Išnála Matȟó had approached me, commenting on the excellent craftsmanship of my raft. Then, they had dared me to take it out on the river, which my father had forbidden unless he was with me. There were many wašíču, white eyes, living around us now, making it dangerous. My father was currently out hunting and wouldn't be back until sunset. He could not supervise me until he got back, but if I were to take my raft out now and return before him, he would not know that I had gone.
                          
I was a cautious boy that obeyed the rules, but my best friends were goading me incessantly, teasing me for not being brave enough, and I did really want to try out my new raft. So I had done it — pushing off from the shore, jumping in and gliding downstream to the sound of Takoda and Išnála Matȟó giggling behind me. Soon, I left them far behind.
                          
I had been so caught up in the exhilarating freedom of it all, that I lost track of time. I was then far past my village, farther than I had ever been by myself. I grew frightened. Immediately I beached my raft, planning to take a short rest to gather my strength before paddling upstream as fast as I possibly could. Hopefully I would make it back before my parents realized I was missing.
                          
That's when I had come upon her. I remember we'd stared at each other for the longest time, each as equally surprised as the other. I had never seen a white female up close before, and I was mesmerized by her strange, pale prettiness and sweet, accented voice. There was a white trader who visited my people off-and-on, and he had taught many of us the wašíču's tongue called "English." I had learned some of it, and knew enough to speak with her. She was mesmerizing, and I lingered longer than I had intended.
                          
I was sad to leave my new friend, but before I did, I returned the wooden bucket she dropped to her doorstep. I found it tangled in some plants just a little ways down stream. Then I had jumped back into my raft and paddled the long way home, thoughts of the lovely white girl filling my head.
                          
The journey back up stream was long and laborious, more so than I had imagined it would be. By the time I returned, exhausted and guilty, it was dusk and my tribesmen and father had been searching for me. My father was furious, and my poor mother had been crying. I felt terrible. 
                          
As punishment for my foolish actions, I was banned from my raft and had to help my mother with her chores instead of training with my father. The Lakota did not beat their children as I had heard the wašíču often did, such was considered a horrible crime, but the humiliation of doing women's work and the disappointed looks of my peers were much worse, I thought. My best friends had faced similar punishment for their encouragement of my escapade.
                          
I never told my parents about Winnie, but I did tell my friends once our punishments were over. Takoda, ever the romantic, had suggested that once I had earned my status as a warrior, I should return to the homestead and take her for my wife. Išnála Matȟó, ever the reasonable one, had shaken his head while I laughed. The idea did appeal to me, however, especially as I grew older. 
                          
When I continued to show no interest in the local maidens of my people, Takoda had asked me why I didn't go to take the white girl. I told him that I couldn't just bring Winnie to the tribe, as her family would be angered and the wašíču would surely come for us, killing without mercy. Neither could I ask her father for her hand either, as I would sooner be shot in the head. 
                          
So, I did not see a way that it was possible for us to be together, no matter as friends or more. If it was meant to be, I had said, Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka would guide me back to her, and I did have a feeling I would see her again.
                          
While it was true I wanted guidance from the Great Spirit, I was also not keen on taking Winnie against her will, the deadly consequences aside. I wanted her to desire to return with me, to make that decision herself. But I was not so sure that was possible. Winnie's people thought of mine as less than the dirt on their boots. Savages, they called us. My people also despised the wašíču for the terrible injustices and worse committed against us. My tribe may not accept her, but would they really blame an innocent woman for things that were out of her control? I did not know. Many I knew, like my mother, would not hold her responsible, but some of the more aggressive warriors and women who had lost husbands and sons were another story.
                          
Looking at Winnie now, it was hard to think that anyone, no matter their race, could not like her. She had grown more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, and now she was saving my life. Truly a pure and loving spirit resided inside her. 
                          
And just the look of Winnie's gentle face and the feel of her touch were enough to drive me wild. When she had pushed her hands against my rump, I had been shocked at the spike of arousal it sparked in me, despite my wounded state. Although I may have kissed a maid or two who had sought me out, no one and nothing had ever made me feel this way. It was exciting, intoxicating, and I only prayed I would live to experience more of it.
                          
Háŋ, yes, when I was healed, I would figure out a way to court her, for a way to make Winnie my woman. At almost twenty winters old, it was past time I started a family of my own. My younger sister had already married and was pregnant with her first child. She now had her own lodge with her husband, while I lived in one of the warrior teepees after I had moved out of my parents. What joy it would be to have my own lodge with a loving wife.
                          
Well, if Winnie's reactions to me were taken into account, I believe she would come willingly. Joyfully, even. I smiled at the happy thought; no doubt appearing crazed with sickness, which I very well may be. Soon, my vision grew dark until I slipped once again into unconsciousness —my injuries and the dizzying motion of the horse too much to keep me functioning.
                          


                          


                          
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A/N: Red Thunder's friend Takoda's name means "friend to everyone" if you were curious, which I think suits his personality: very friendly and gregarious, a bit of a charmer and a joker. I always pick names to try and describe my characters, to give a little sense of them. Lone Bear (Išnála Matȟó) for instance, is a bit of a solemn, alpha male and very down-to-earth; a loner as his name suggests. We wil be seeing more of them in later parts of Red Thunder and Winnie's story. I will be writing their stories as well, if I can ever get this one done!
                          
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