~Chapter Five: Part I~

                                    

                                          
Red Thunder (Wakíŋyaŋ Lúta):
                          
I awoke slowly to the sound of the barn doors below me sliding open quietly. My first instinct was to tense and reach for my knife at my side, only to realize first: that it wasn't there, and second: that I was not in my teepee or anywhere familiar to me. Suddenly, all the memories of what had happened came rushing back. I let out a breath of relief as I realized the person had to be Winnie. She had said she would come to check on me in the night, and I figured it to be a little past midnight judging by the moon. The bright light fell across the floorboards in a beautiful silver glow, bringing with it a feeling of peace. I was thankful there was an open window in the loft, allowing for that, and fresh air to flow through the small space, as well some other sights and sounds of nature.
                          
Winnie was an even brighter light in this whole situation. A beacon of hope and compassion in a world wrought with hatred and conflict. I was shocked by my actions with her earlier, teasing and flirting mercilessly. It was so unlike me, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I was behaving much like my mischievous friend Takoda! He was very popular with the maidens back at home, and the widows too. Although I did not know how many he had taken up on their offers, he had been more than happy to flirt right back. Išnála Matȟó and I, however, were more reserved. Especially Išnála Matȟó, who was so serious it was a rare occasion if he even smiled, and Takoda and I were truly the only friends he had. More than that, however, the three of us were blood brothers. Our loyalty and love sworn to each other in oath many moons ago. Išnála Matȟó, Lone Bear --- he was named well. Much of it was his natural character, I knew, but a lot of his somberness came from the brutal massacre of his village many seasons past. My poor brother had been one of the few survivors from his band of Sihásapa, Blackfoot. We had adopted him into my tribe when warriors from our village had arrived upon the scene.
                          
Yes, Išnála Matȟó was aptly named, and so was Takoda, his name meaning "friend to everyone," which he was. My joyful brother had only ever known love and happiness in his life, his parents and siblings equally as cheerful. He was a stark contrast to Išnála Matȟó; they were like balancing forces. The sun and the moon, or fire and water. I fit somewhere in the middle of them, neither bursting with optimism nor overly series or stern. Because of this, I seemed to be the unofficial leader of our little brotherhood, the other two often turning to me to be the tiebreaker in decision making.
                          
I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of gentle footsteps making their way slowly up the barn stairs. I grinned with amusement. If Winnie moved any slower, she would not get here until morning! She was obviously very frightened of getting caught with me up here. I was as well, but more for her sake than my own.
                          
 I was a warrior, trained from my youth to deal with adversity and pain through years of experience. I could handle myself if the worse should occur. I might not survive, but that was a prospect I had accepted long ago as a fate that could come with being a warrior of my tribe. And while my little healer was strong and brave, she could not detach herself from pain, or defend herself if the wrath of her people turned on her. I only hoped if it came to it, I would be recovered enough to protect us both.
                          
After a few more frustratingly timid, creeping steps, I finally beheld the face of my wíŋyaŋ wašté illuminated by the moonlight. I sucked in a breath at the enchanting sight she made. Winnie was wearing a thin, snow-white dress that seemed to glow with light, as if she were not a terrestrial being, but rather a spirit sent to watch over me. Her hair was long and loose, falling around arms that were wrapped in a dark shawl in shining strands. Her sweet, innocent face gleamed with unapologetic alabaster beauty, her pretty pink lips and dark eyes the crowning glory. I was thoroughly under her spell and didn't bother to try and speak, all English words having left me. I just watched and soaked in the magic of this extraordinary young woman I was lucky enough to have met again.