Destiny Mine (10 page)

That dance and song were followed by ones to entreat a good hunt, peace, and survival from their Creator and protector and to thank Him for past blessings. Only men and
tivas
performed and sang as drums sent forth a melodic beat and a huge campfire lit up the clearing beneath a waning full moon. Next, hopeful couples danced within shared blankets to ensure a fertile season on their mating mats. Single males made their future choices known by asking their loves to join them in the outer circle where they danced in place while facing each other. It was no surprise to anyone when Runs Fast invited a blushing Blue Bird to be his partner.

Stalking Wolf observed the ceremonies, the
tivas
in particular. He realized no coups were chanted, though—in his opinion, his new friend’s recent feats deserved such recognition. He noticed no
tiva
participated
in the last dance, and recalled they had not bathed with the other hunters. Tonight, the group of over forty sat together, and a little apart from others, but near his position. They were clad in highly decorated and colorful regalia: shirts, leggings, moccasins, and breechclouts were adorned with painted and beaded designs from nature, some with feathers and claws attached. Their black hair was worn in the same manner: two braids down their backs. It was their disguises that captured his attention: deerhide masks molded to their features with cut-outs for seeing and breathing. One had to look close at several to notice it was not real flesh. He assumed the deerskin had been treated in a special way and worn until it hardened into the shape of its owner’s face. Feathers of various colors, kinds, and lengths banded those skin covers in a full circle along their borders. The patterns were splendid and the work was done by skilled hands.

Stalking Wolf wondered if the
tivas’
faces were painted beneath them or if the ceremonial masks were their only adornment. He also wondered why never showing their faces was so important to them and their people. He could not surmise why
tivas
did not take mates or have children; they appeared to live only to feed, clothe, and protect their families and tribe. He could not help but ponder why they remained chaste and alone. What strange law made it wrong for a
tiva
to sate his desires within a female, to have a mate, and to grow his seeds in her body? Was it a chosen or a coerced demand of their mysterious cult and Great Spirit? Perhaps, he reasoned, it was a personal, difficult, and painful sacrifice like his people’s Sun Dance ritual. Perhaps those denials of physical and emotional pleasures were a
tiva
’s way of offering something—a vital part of himself and his life—something only he possessed and controlled,
which was also the motivation behind the Sun Dance.

Subtly, the Cheyenne studied Kionee. A circle of white swan feathers bordered Kionee’s black mask. The upper half displayed a thick over-layer of raven feathers. A narrow fan of short snow owl plumes was positioned over the forehead area and came to a point between the brows; over it were red-tailed hawk feathers and in its middle was an inverted tipi-shaped crow one. From the ear locations, five long strips of leather dangled to the chest and were adorned with white and black beads, tiny hairpipes, and hackle feathers. The eyes were encased by green circles with stripes running from the inner corners along the edge of the nose, curling under its base, and halting at the nostrils. Another slash traveled from the outer corner of each eye hole downward near the jawbone and stopped close to the chin, upon which was painted a large sunny dot. White slashes accentuated the brows and journeyed along the jawline to the earlobes. The remaining section above them was yellow. Wiggly blue lines like rivers were painted from the inner eye corners, across the cheeks, and spilled into an oblong design like a lake in their hollows. Red stripes left the centers of the eye holes, then formed symbols like mountains on the cheekbones. Red lips contrasted against the black background to complete a dramatic pattern. He did not know if the pattern had a certain meaning or was only meant for decoration. It was odd to him that Kionee’s mask seemed to depict femininelike features, if his memory were accurate.

In fact, Stalking Wolf reasoned, most of the
tivas
were thinner and shorter than the average man, had delicatelooking hands, smaller feet, and moved like females when they danced and walked. Yet, from the hunt earlier and from seeing their tipis, the
tivas
were among the
best providers and skilled protectors of the Hanueva. Perhaps those unmanly characteristics were why they felt it necessary to use masks, to make them appear fearsome to enemies. Still, he mused, that did not explain why they shielded their looks at all times. They were a mysterious group who kept to themselves, but were friendly when approached. No one could be more likable and skilled than Kionee, and the bond between them felt good and strong and blessed.

He knew the meaning behind the grizzly claw necklace around Kionee’s neck; it had been earned by saving Red Bull’s wife and baby from certain death. He assumed the dewclaw rattle in Kionee’s grip was a sacred item for rituals, as the
tivas
shook them at certain points. The sash that crossed the hunter’s chest revealed many deeds of courage, daring, and strength, and Stalking Wolf was impressed. Kionee’s shield was a near match for his own. Surely, he mused,
Maheoo
and destiny had crossed their paths for a sacred reason, one he would know soon.

Before the feast started, Taysinga approached the families of Sumba and Tall Eagle to present them with gifts and to ask mercy for being partly responsible for the two hunters’ deaths. Taysinga confessed her shame.

“I was afraid of the Crow warriors,” the hunter said. “They were many and we were few. They are skilled fighters; we are hunters. They carried shields, lances, bows, knives, and clubs; in our hands were bows and in our sheaths were knives. They care not if they die while seeking coups; we must live to take care of our families. It was the first time I faced such danger and evil. I could not thaw the ice in my body. I suffer for the loss of my brothers.” She told the fathers, “I will hunt for your families when you lie sick or hurt upon your mats and when
Atah
calls you to live with Him. I will give you a share of my hides after the buffalo hunt. I will make
twenty arrows for each during the next cold season. I will not refuse my duty to fight again. I will give my life to save others. After the feast, my
tiva
brothers will remove my fear, shame, and weakness.”

The families granted forgiveness, as was the Hanueva way. Taysinga thanked them and returned to her place among the masked group.

Stalking Wolf noted that Taysinga had not been banished from the
tiva
society. It was the Cheyenne way—when one was to blame by fault or accident for another’s death, he was no longer a member of his society and no other society could accept him. The event pointed out one of many differences between his and Kionee’s people; some he understood and others he did not.

Kionee was eager for the ceremony to end so she could put distance between her and the man who disturbed her thoughts and created turmoil in her emotions. No matter how hard she tried to ignore his presence, she failed. Her gaze kept drifting to his stalwart body and handsome face. She found herself wanting to know everything about him. She caught herself wondering how it would feel to have his lips pressed to hers, his arms around her, to hear him speak words of love in her ears, inhale his manly scent, and to have their bodies join in mating. She tried to imagine how a child of theirs would look, if it would be a boy or a girl, what name it would carry, and what its destiny would be. She tried to think of ways to free herself from her
tiva
vow without causing her dishonor and suffering by her family and people. There was nothing she could say or do, for he was Cheyenne, an outsider, forbidden. She could be his friend and companion, but nothing more.
Help me keep my promise, Atah. Destiny mine, whatever and wherever you be, hold me true to it.

As soon as the
tivas
ate, they gathered in their private lodge for the ritual Taysinga had requested. She sat on a
mat and held out her trembling hands. One by one the
tivas
pricked her fingers with porcupine quills to drain the bad traits from her body. Blood dripped into a clay bowl before the girl washed her sticky hands and smeared on salve from the arnica and purple coneflower which was mixed with spider webs and bear grease. Taysinga stood, removed her shirt and breast band, and lowered her head.

A group of five of the oldest Guardians flung water from bunches of sage over her torso as they chanted the prayer for purification. Afterward, sweetgrass and herbs were rubbed over her skin as they evoked
Atah
to restore Taysinga’s courage, strength, and honor.

Regim, the
Tiva-Chu,
dried the girl with a rabbit fur and helped her replace her deerskin breast band and shirt. The group’s leader lit a tuft of buffalo grass and wafted it beneath Taysinga’s nose as the girl took deep breaths to drive any lingering evil from her body. The young female coughed and her eyes ran tears as the sacred smoke did its task. Regim drew her knife and cut a slash on the back of Taysinga’s left hand, a mark against her. “Do not forget, our brother: if another joins it, you will not be allowed to meet, sit, dance, sing, and hunt with other
tivas.
You will be set apart.”

“I hear and obey, Regim, our
Tiva-Chu.
I have learned much from this dark deed and I will not ride that path again. I swear to you and
Atah.
”

Regim placed the bowl with Taysinga’s blood on hot coals in the fire. She added water, dirt, dried and finely crushed plants and leaves, and two small feathers to represent the domains of the hunter’s prey: river, plains, mountains, forest, and sky. She added buffalo hairs from the “provider of life,” a white arrowhead for the means of obtaining it, and a clay ball—
bihe
—to absorb measures of all those elements. As the liquid mixture disappeared into rising vapors, Regim said, “Gone
is the bad, and new power has come. Do not lose it or shame it, Taysinga.”

“I will live and be as
Atah
commands.”

Regim told the others, “When the
bihe
no longer burns like fire, I will place it in Taysinga’s
kim
and toss the ashes around it into the wind. While the heat leaves it, paint your faces and return to your families.”

Kionee knew it would harden her heart to refuse to forgive Taysinga; such emotions cut into one’s spirit until it bled from foolish wounds. As they worked with their paints, she said to the girl sitting beside her, “I will no longer blame you for Sumba’s death. It was wrong to do so and I ask your forgiveness. In my suffering, I did not think with a clear head and kind heart. You are a good hunter and you will be a good fighter if that sun rises.”

“Sumba was your friend and brother; I understand your anger and actions.” Taysinga replied. “I will not be weak again; I will do what I must. I have learned who and what I am and I will follow that path.”

“That is good, Taysinga, for
tivas
must not war with each other,” Kionee said, and the girl gave a nonchalant nod. Yet, something about the girl’s tone worried Kionee. She had a feeling Taysinga could not be trusted and should be watched.

Regim approached and said, “Stay and speak with me, Kionee.”

She nodded to her leader and continued her task, wondering why Regim desired privacy. Surely, Kionee fretted, she had not exposed her feelings for Stalking Wolf to others. If so, she was in trouble.

A
FTER THE OTHER
tivas
left the meeting lodge, Regim said to Kionee in a low voice and a worried tone, “As I put the
bihe
in Taysinga’s
kim,
I found your vessel broken, hidden behind others and out of its place. That is a bad sign, Kionee, for your female spirit could escape to wander about in confusion and be thrust into danger. Do you know how it happened?”

“No, for I have not looked at it in many moons. There was no need.”

The
Tiva-Chu
believed Kionee was innocent of wrongdoing and was convinced her surprise was genuine. For a time, Regim had feared that a love-blinded Kionee might have broken the vessel to free her spirit to pursue the Cheyenne. The older woman admitted to herself that the superior warrior was an enormous temptation to females, even to one as strong-willed and dedicated as her precious Kionee. Witnessing Kionee’s reaction, Regim knew her suspicions could not be true; she was relieved, and scolded herself for doubting the girl for even a moment. Yet the breaking of her
kim
was a bad omen, one she feared. She did not want to imagine that evil spirits were trying to ensnare the girl she loved as her own child. Or that
Atah
wished to expose and punish Kionee for having forbidden thoughts and
feelings. “I will find fresh clay and put it together again,” she assured Kionee. “I will try to do so before others see it.”

Regim did not have to speak her concerns aloud for Kionee to guess them and agree: others would wonder how and why the damage occurred; and they might watch her closely for answers. “Will Spotted Owl need to summon my female spirit back to it?”

“Perhaps it does not roam. Perhaps it waits nearby to return to its rightful place. Perhaps that is why your woman’s feelings trouble you.”

Again, Kionee grasped the
Tiva-Chu
’s meaning. Yet, she did not confess or deny the validity of Regim’s fears about Stalking Wolf. “Did someone break it to cause me trouble? Is that what frightens you?”

“Who would do such evil?”

With ease and conviction, the name “Taysinga” left Kionee’s lips.

“You speak cold and cruel words against your brother.”

“I fear my brother hates me and wishes me harm and shame.”

“Has Taysinga told you such things?”

“Not in words, but he does so with looks and sounds. This moon, I warned myself to watch him with eagle eyes and to listen with hawk’s ears. I cannot tell you why; it is a feeling deep within me. I tried to make peace over Sumba’s loss but I do not believe my words reached his heart. Have your sharp wits not told you Taysinga hungers for freedom from the
tiva
vow and hungers for Night Walker as a woman does for a man and a mate?”

Regim gaped at Kionee in shock. “This cannot be. What evil sneaks among us this season to steal our
tivas
from their ranks? It is bad the Cheyenne returned. He tempts you to forget your laws and ways. That darkness spreads to others. As a sickness, it has entered Taysinga;
he was not weak until after the Cheyenne walked near our camp.”

“Do not blame Stalking Wolf for the weakness of Kionee and Taysinga. He is good and brave; he has come to help us. I believe
Atah
brought him. Taysinga’s heart was changed before Stalking Wolf entered our land, for I saw desire in her long ago. Our brother has tried to live as a man, Regim, but she is not a man. Perhaps some cannot battle against what nature made us at our births. Why is it so wrong and evil for a woman to have a woman’s thoughts and feelings? If
Atah
had wanted us to be men, our bodies would reveal it. I understand how Taysinga thinks and feels, but I cannot tell her so. I wish she could win Night Walker as her mate; that would be good for him and our people. Perhaps she and a family could turn his heart away from war.”

“You must not speak or think such forbidden things, Kionee.
Atah
will punish you; He will punish the
tivas,
your family, and your people.”

“I will give Him no reason to harm us. I will honor my vow, for my family needs me. Father cannot hunt for them and protect them. It is not so for Taysinga; her father’s body is strong. When it becomes old, Night Walker possesses the skills to hunt for them and for his mate and children.”

“Do you seek to help Taysinga break her vow and
kim?”

“I will not, for it is not the
tiva
way. But if she chooses him and he chooses her, it will please me.”

“How can he choose Taysinga when I believe he desires you?”

“I will not accept him. I do not love him. I will not join him.”

“You will not, for your heart belongs to another, a forbidden one?”

Kionee let Regim see the anguish in her eyes. “I must not hunger for food I cannot catch and eat. I will remain a
tiva.”

“I pray you will, my son, or dark moons rise ahead.”

Intent on their emotional conversation, the
tivas
did not hear someone sneak away from outside the lodge to avoid being caught spying when they departed.

“Will you tell me who you loved long ago, Regim?”

“It matters not. I did not yield to temptation.”

Despite her leader’s claims, Kionee perceived a lingering sadness at her loss. “Remember the love and desire you felt for him and understand what a fierce battle I fight this season.”

“I understand, Kionee, but you must win it as I did. If you do not choose Night Walker or another Hanueva, you can have no mate.”

“If that is true, I will remain a
tiva
until
Atah
summons me.”

For the next three days, the Cheyenne warrior and selected Hanuevas hunted and scouted in groups of two, chosen by Kionee in private. Without asking, he assigned his friend to ride with him, and was not refused.

As Stalking Wolf and Kionee rode for camp on that third day, he said, “Our hunt was good; we bring back a large deer, four rabbits, and a turkey. Our eyes have not seen our enemies.”

“Perhaps they saw Stalking Wolf and flew away in fear of his prowess.”

“If Bird warriors saw us, they would challenge us. They would earn many coups to defeat Stalking Wolf and Kionee. They will come soon.”

“I pray that is not true, but I fear it is.”

“Why did you send Taysinga with Night Walker,
Regim with Little Weasel, and Runs Fast with Red Bull?”

Kionee was prepared to respond and wondered why it had taken so long for him to ask that question. “Night Walker and Little Weasel are first friends; they desire to war with the Crow. If they ride together, trouble would come as swiftly as the arrow flies. Regim and Taysinga will prevent their rash actions. Red Bull is a great hunter and fighter; he will protect the love of my sister, Blue Bird. I fear Runs Fast’s mind is clouded by his feelings for her. I wish him to live and to join with her.”

Stalking Wolf respected Kionee’s honesty, but he suspected the hunter had another motive for pairing Taysinga and Night Walker. He did not grasp the reason, but the chiefs son had watched Kionee in a strange manner. “What is the meaning of your ceremonial mask?” he asked.

Kionee glanced at him, for that query was unexpected, and began her explanation. “It is a symbol of the Hunter-Guardian, a
tiva.
White feathers tell of day and game that forages in the light; it speaks of all things good and pure. Black tells of night and game that forages in the dark; it also speaks of things which are bad and things which come when I cannot see, things I must fight and defeat. Yellow on my forehead speaks of enlightenment by
Atah;
the chin dot reminds me of His warmth from the sun,
Atah
’s shining eye. Beads are symbols of the circle-of-life, white for good and black for bad. Hairpipe speaks of the breath of life and bones of the hunter and his prey. The fan is to entreat knowledge for hunting and fighting. Hackle feathers are pointed like arrowtips, the Hunter-Guardian’s weapon. Feathers evoke swiftness and come from messengers to
Atah.
Marks leaving my eyes help me see clear and far; they point to my nose and ears to help me catch the smells and sounds of prey and enemy. White near my
eyes and ears helps me to see and hear dangers and evil. My mouth is red for the earth and its food to help me to taste what is good and bad. Dangles summon powers to hear game and foe. All are skills needed by hunters and protectors. There are five dangles: one for each direction of the wind and one for the center of life. It is much the same as when warriors paint their faces before riding out to war or raid: they choose patterns and symbols with meanings special to them.”

“Is that the same meaning of the one you wear each sun and moon?”

Kionee touched her cheek and felt the covering that shielded her secret. “Black tells us we are nothing without
Atah
’s creation, guidance, and protection. The colors and symbols tell of the hunter’s lands: red is for earth, green for forest and plains, blue for water, and yellow for the sky with its sun. All
tivas
must wear these colors. Our fathers choose the sizes, shapes, and places for our marks when we are but five summers and paint them on in a sacred ritual. So we do not forget our masks when we bathe, they are placed on our hands. When we are young, other
tivas
paint them on after bathing until we are skilled enough to do so ourselves. Our fathers make our ceremonial masks and give them to us at our last ritual when we are sixteen summers old.
Tivas
are chosen by
Atah
before our births. Our duty is to our family and people. We do not join to mates or have children; they would distract us from our sacred vows. We wear masks to remind ourselves and others we are
tivas.
That is all I can tell you.”

Stalking Wolf realized Kionee had told him more than most people knew about the mysterious society. He let his friend know he honored that request by talking about other things. “You are a great hunter and fighter, Kionee. You trained your horse and companion well; he is skilled and smart.”

“Your words warm my heart. White Cloud is a good horse; you trained him to ride as one with you.”

“He lets no one ride him but Stalking Wolf. No enemy can take him. He likes Kionee, for it is not his way to touch others as he does you.”

Kionee recalled how the white stallion allowed her to stroke him and how he nuzzled her hand when she finished. For some reason, a bond had been made between her and the majestic animal. “He knows I am a friend to White Cloud and Stalking Wolf. The same is true for Maja, Recu, and Tuka; they are friends to my first friends.”

“We are good companions, Kionee; we also ride and hunt as one.”

Companions,
her troubled mind echoed, that is all they could be.

After they entered camp and tethered their horses, Moon Child approached with fresh water for them. Kionee noticed her sister’s suppressed giggles, and furtive looks at
the
Cheyenne. The girl had lived sixteen seasons and would soon become a woman when the blood flow came to her. It was obvious Moon Child found their visitor appealing. Kionee decided it was best to whisper a warning to their mother so Martay could scold the girl to prevent trouble and suffering.

Part of the meat, feathers, furs, and the hide were given to older
tivas
who lived in a large tipi. Stalking Wolf was impressed by Kionee’s generous and respectful nature, as it was also the Cheyenne way to share with others and to show honor to elders, especially those left alone without families to care for their needs. Kionee possessed a gentle and kind manner which touched his emotions and caused him to like and admire the hunter more each sun. As he watched Kionee with the old ones from a distance, their laughter, movements, and voices reminded him of elderly women. He assumed it was because
the Hanueva were a tranquil people, content to live in peace and happiness amongst themselves. It was sad the Crow would come to try to destroy their harmonious existence. He knew that threat was real because his shaman had seen it in his visions, and Medicine Eyes was never wrong. He was proud to be the one chosen by the Great Spirit to save Kionee and the Hanueva, for in doing so, great honor and magic would come to him and to the Cheyenne Strong Hearts. The two tribes’ destinies were entwined this season. How, he did not know. Why, he did not know. When his test of courage and prowess would come, he did not know. As for Kionee’s part in it, he did not know. But soon…

After the evening meal, many hunters and
tivas
gathered in a clearing to talk and play games. Once more, Stalking Wolf noticed how the
tivas
kept to themselves, when his societies intermingled at such times.

Night Walker called the visitor over to where he stood with Little Weasel, Red Bull, and other men. “We toss hoops. Is your aim true?” he queried.

Stalking Wolf sensed it was a challenge by the chiefs younger son. “I will join you,” he accepted with a genial smile, and saw the man’s sly grin.

Stalking Wolf looked at the six hoops of willow, each one smaller than the one before it. He studied the stakes, each one set farther away than the one before it. Standing behind a line drawn on the ground, he was to begin with the largest circle and closest stake, decreasing the hoop’s size and increasing the distance thrown with each of the six throws. He realized everyone in the clearing had stopped what they were doing to observe him. He checked the wind to make certain it did not work against him, then extended his left foot and wiggled its moccasin in the dirt to give him balance and control.
He fastened his tawny gaze to the first target and concentrated on victory. He took the largest hoop from his right hand, brought it to his stomach, and flung it with the precise speed and angle to ring the slender post. Repeating his action five times, he then recovered the circles from their confining stakes and returned them to his rival.

The Cheyenne’s success annoyed Night Walker. His tension caused his hand to quiver in dread of missing. He almost sighed aloud in relief when he did not. With haste, he passed the rings to Red Bull and refused to glance at Kionee, the object of his desire.