Sun is Burning at Dawn 12 page

“Ohan, wicahcala, I have been very fortunate to have him.”

Seeing that the elder was finished, Kathleen moved around the fire and reached for the empty bowl. “Would you have more, wicahcala?

“Hiya, wikoskalaka,” He said, shaking his head. “I must return to my cunksi’s lodge, now.” As he struggled to his feet, he accepted the help of the blonde with a smile. “You drink that tea whenever you are ill, wikoskalaka,” he ordered, waving a finger at her.

Properly deferential, despite an impish grin playing at the corners of her mouth, Kathleen nodded. “Ohan, wicahcala. I will.”

And, with a curt nod, he shambled off.

The pale woman set aside the empty container for cleaning later on. Returning to her place, she reached for Anpo’s bowl and refilled it before handing it back. Unsure of what was and was not acceptable, she chewed her upper lip in thought for a moment. Go on, Kath. Ye’ve never stopped questionin’ a thing before. Why stop now?

Anpo took the bowl and enjoyed her meal, happy that her woman had eaten some and now had the medicine needed to settle her stomach for future sickness.

“Where are you going, winuhca, that you need Nupa to stay with me?”

The warrior finished chewing her mouthful before speaking. “Not far, winuhca,” she said in an effort to ease the woman’s mind. “I will be required to stay in the large ti ikceya at the center of summer camp for a few days.”

“Because of the Sun Dance?”

“Ohan. I will stay in the lodge for four days after the ceremony begins.” She watched worried blue eyes flicker away from hers. Anpo set down her bowl and waved her woman nearer, pulling her closer in a gentle hug. “It will be all right, mahasanni ki. Nupa will protect you until I return.”

Mahasanniki? What’s that? Shaking off the thought, Kathleen nodded. “Will he sleep where you sleep then?” she asked in a low voice, fishing for any information on the cultural differences. It had not been lost on her that her warrior and Nupa seemed to share everything. Does that mean their women, too?

“What?” Anpo sat back to peer down at the blonde in her arms. She is worried that I will give her to Nupa! “Hiya, Ketlin! It is your ti ikceya! He will sleep where you wish him to sleep!”

Dark blue eyes blinked as her fear eased. “If I wish him to sleep out here by the fire, he will?” she ventured, unsure of her status.

The warrior shrugged and nodded, though her face held slight disappointment. “Ohan, winuhca. Though I would like you to open your heart to my tiblo and let him sleep inside your lodge as a true friend.”

Seeing that Anpo wasn’t happy with her question, the pale woman rushed to comfort her feelings. “I will, winuhca! Nupa will sleep in my ti ikceya until you return from the Sun Dance.”

The warrior bestowed a smile on her woman and held her close. “That is very good, Ketlin. Thank you for showing my tiblo honor.”

Her voice muffled against the yellow shirt, Kathleen responded, “And thank you for taking such good care of me, winuhca. I am very grateful.”

The following days were a bit of a blur to Kathleen. Once her warrior had disappeared into the sweat lodge with nearly a dozen others, she forced herself to remain busy to keep the fears at bay. The blonde spent quite a bit of time at her uncisi’s lodge, keeping Hca and Gi company. She tossed and turned her nights away, fighting off her nightmares in silent misery while Nupa slept a few feet away.

The ceremony for the Sun Dance was a welcome distraction, however, and the blonde found all the singing and dancing and other practices quite interesting. It took almost two full days of feasting, singing and ceremony before the center log needed for their dance was finally cut down and set up inside the large ti ikceya. Kathleen had seen Anpo upon occasion through all of it and, though they couldn’t speak to each other, her heart soared when the dark eyes found hers.

“Hanka!” Nupa exclaimed as he trotted towards her lodge. “Today is the day! Anpo will dance the Sun Dance and show her gratitude to the spirits!”

“Will she be able to come home today?” Kathleen asked, standing from her place by the fire.

“Hau, Ketlin. She will come home and we will feast in her honor all night!”

His enthusiasm was contagious and the blonde found herself being pulled excitedly along towards the largest lodge. Most of the summer camp’s population was joining them, all crowding happily into the structure and singing a song. She spotted her warrior among the dozen candidates by the center pole that had been put up the previous day.

Anpo looked a bit worn. She was wearing odd clothing - the shirt she wore was painted red and a blue skirt hung from her waist. Her skin was a ruddy color. Nupa had said it was because the shamans had been painting all the dancers with the sacred red color. There were additional adornments of fur and sage around her wrists, ankles and head. The final touches were the cape about her shoulders and the hoop she carried covered with the same material.

The pole in the center had been decorated, as well, since its cutting and placement. It had been a tall, straight cottonwood tree. Now it was stripped of all extraneous branches and leaves. The fork at the top had been painted red and various items could be seen there - sage, fur, and other fetishes. There were also quite a number of braided thongs hanging down to wave gently around the base.

More singing, more drumming and dancing by the shamans and candidates. Hca, who stood beside the blonde smiled as she sang and wrapped an arm around Kathleen’s shoulders. They swayed together as the shamans chanted and drummed through yet another song.

“Now the Sun Dance begins!” Nupa murmured into the pale woman’s ear as the final song was completed.

The level of anticipation seemed to intensify around Kathleen and the candidates circled the pole. There were four shamans there, as well, and they each approached one of the garish dancers pulling on the braided thongs hanging from the log above.

Kathleen’s gasp of horror was clearly audible to those around her as she watched the shamans cut into the chests of the candidates and attach the thongs to their skin with sticks.

Concerned, the dark woman beside her peered closely into large blue eyes. “Stepan?” she questioned quietly.

How.... How... barbaric! No other thought could be had. Her mouth moved, no sound issuing.

Realizing that the woman’s response was not a good one, Hca squeezed the stiff shoulders. “Be strong, Ketlin!” she urged in a tight whisper. “Anpo needs you to be there for her!”

The words slowly sank in. Anpo needs me. Be strong. Swallowing hard, her eyes bright with unshed tears of fear, she nodded and pulled herself straighter. I will be strong for my winuhca.

Hca nodded in return, seeing a spark of sensibility return to the strange colored eyes. She did not relinquish her grip around the blonde’s shoulders, however, hoping to give her some support.

Anpo watched as the first began to dance, pulling back and away from the pole. Their blood flowed where the cuts had been placed and the skin strained from their bodies. She had been four days without food and only a bit of water and was feeling a little lightheaded. The woman warrior shuffled around with the remaining candidates, keeping time with her feet as the singing and music continued.

The shamans picked four more individuals from the group. These were pulled towards the pole, as well, their shirts removed. They were cut but, rather than be attached to the pole to dance, each had four buffalo skulls attached to their backs. These then began to dance around the pole, dragging the skulls along.

Bile rose in Kathleen’s throat as she watched the gory proceedings. How can they do this!? This is disgustin’!! Torture, plain and simple! Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she saw the shaman approach her warrior. Oh, my God! What will they do ta her!?

Anpo removed her shirt revealing a soft leather band wrapped tightly around her breasts. The shaman before her, Inyan Ceye, smiled reassuringly through his buffalo mask as he prepared his knife. The obsidian was sharp and the warrior could hardly feel any pain when the skin of her chest was cut open. Two thongs were attached to her.

“Wait, Wi Ile Anpo,” the shaman said. “You and I are not finished.”

The woman could feel the blood trickling down her chest, staining the leather she wore. She swayed a little from her overall weakness as the shaman circled around her. And then she could feel two more incisions on her shoulder blades and more thongs attached.

Kathleen watched as her warrior was pulled from the thongs hanging from the pole as well as the ones attached to stakes pounded into the floor behind. As the shaman moved away from Anpo, she could see her winuhca swaying back and forth, pulling at the rawhide that held her pinned.

Around her the crowd continued their singing, repeating the same song over and over as the dancers danced. As one by one they pulled away from the pole, ripping themselves free, the gathered people cheered for them. The four that were dragging the buffalo skulls were also cheered as they went past and as the weight of the bone pulled the thongs free.

There were three other warriors attached to stakes in the ground as Anpo was, swaying back and forth to the beat and staring upwards, but the blonde’s eyes were only for her warrior. She’d stopped trying to keep up with the tune around her, concentrating solely on Anpo’s misery. The dark eyes were focused on the peak of the ti ikceya, keeping them on the sun as she weaved and pulled. Ah, my poor love!

Eyes stinging from the tears, Anpo danced back and forth. The sticks that were used to attach the rawhide rubbed against her furiously, irritating the incisions. After several minutes, a euphoria seemed to take over and the pain receded from her mind as she prayed to the spirits and thanked them for the honor of tatanka ska and Ketlin.

One by one, the dancers freed themselves from the wakan tree. Soon, there was only one remaining. Kathleen watched in anguish, her entire body humming with the need to rush out and protect her warrior. The only thing holding her back was Hca’s arm firmly wrapped about her shoulders and the apparent acceptance of all the other Lakota who were present.

And then there was a gasp from the spectators as Anpo jerked backwards with a purpose, ripping the thongs from her chest simultaneously. A loud cheer rang out, filling the lodge.

Kathleen grimaced and moaned low in her throat.

“Your winuhca is very powerful and honored, hanka,” Nupa murmured into her ear. “Not many are so strong as to do what she has done.”

The praise did nothing to ease the blonde’s fears. Despite her desire to not see anymore of the savage display, she couldn’t keep her eyes from the lone dancer still in the clearing.

Bracing herself, Anpo forced herself to surge forward. She felt her skin ripping, a sickening sensation, and the hot flow of fresh blood coursing down her back. With no further resistance from behind, the warrior stumbled and fell to her knees.

“Anpo!” Kathleen cried, her voice drowned from the cheering of the onlookers. She tried to go to her woman only to be held back by Hca and Nupa.

“Hiya, Ketlin!” the dark woman insisted, blotting out Kathleen’s view of her sister. “You must not!”

Regardless of the plea, the blonde continued to fight against her captors until Nupa’s face filled her vision.

“Hanka!” he yelled. “Do not dishonor your winuhca!”

The words washed over her, leaving a chillness in their wake. Dishonor?

Seeing uncertainty, Nupa continued. “She is a warrior and she has shown her gratitude for all her honor to wakan tanka! Do not let all she has done be for nothing! Let her walk out with pride!”

Anpo stumbled to her feet, breathing heavily. She and the other dancers gathered around the pole and sang a final song of thanks to the spirits. There was a hush when it was finished and all of them shuffled out into the summer camp’s clearing.

Tears were coursing down Kathleen’s face as her warrior shambled by, exhausted and hurting. She started to reach a hand out, to touch her, to assure her that she was there, but pulled back. Don’t dishonor her. Be brave. She needs me ta be brave.

And then the dozen candidates were outside the ti ikceya and the people all began leaving, as well. The blonde looked to Anpo’s sister, her face anguished and questioning.

A tender look crossed Hca’s face and she nodded. “Go to her, Ketlin. She will need you now.” She smiled when her stepan needed no further encouragement, slipping away through the crowd towards the tiopa.

Anpo tried to remain standing tall, but was having some difficulty. Many people passed her, offering kind words and smiles. But none had the face of the one she wished to see. A warmth seemed to caress her from one side and the warrior instinctively turned that way. An arm wrapped around her waist and her woman shouldered some of her burden.

“Winuhca!” Kathleen said in a breathless tone. “You and I will go home now.” The grin that she received nearly made her heart stop.

“I love you, mahasanni ki,” the young warrior said, allowing herself to be led away.

The blonde woman paused for just a second before continuing on her path. That’s what ‘tis then? Love? Pause. Anpo loves me? With a silly grin plastered on her mouth, Kathleen answered, “I love you, too, winuhca. More than you will ever know.”

Chapter 7

Wakan Waste
(wah-kahn wash-teh)

Good Energy

The warrior sat at the fire, quietly smoking a pipe. She had a buffalo robe wrapped about her to keep out the chill of the late winter evening. Before her was a fire that crackled and popped. She was not alone.

Her sister was bustling around the fire to one side. As the wikoskalaka finished preparing the evening meal, she filled a clay bowl of stew and handed it to the warrior. “Here, mitankala. Eat.”

Wi Ile Anpo looked up from the fire. “Ohan, cuwekala,” she said with worried face. “Thank you.” Setting the bowl to one side, the warrior finished smoking her pipe in silent contemplation, steam from her breath mingling with the tobacco smoke.

Before her lay the winter camp of Wagmiza Wagna. About thirty ti ikceyas lay around a large cleared area in a near circle. The only open space among them was on the eastern side where the entrance would face the rising sun. At the exact opposite of the communal space was a larger ti ikceya that was used as a meeting place for the elders and chiefs.

Finishing her tobacco, the warrior emptied the ashes into the fire so that the spirits could have the sacred smoke. Hca Wanahca was watching carefully as she stirred the stew.

Behind the warrior was her winuhca’s ti ikceya. In the flickering firelight, designs could be seen painted on the buffalo hide. The doorway was closed, a separate leather skin covering it. But it didn’t close off the noises coming from within. A man’s voice, the medicine man, was singing. Another’s, the shaman, was chanting a spell of protection. Beneath them could be heard the sounds of a woman moaning in pain.

The warrior ate her meal quietly. Around the clearing, other families were gathered around their own lodges, all minding their own business but also out and about in silent support of her. At a fire nearby, her father and best friend were doing the same. The elders were gathered at the main fire by the council ti ikceya, smoking their pipes and discussing where to set up the summer camp in the following months.

In the lodge behind her, a sudden howling rent the air. The camp seemed to freeze, all appearing to hold their collective breath in trepidation. And then a wail from an indignant newborn christened the night sky and the camp returned to its activities in relief. A few more moments passed as the men inside finished their prayers and incantations. The babe’s voice eventually died down.

When the shaman and medicine man stepped out of the ti ikceya, Hca left the fire and headed inside. This seemed to break the tableau around the camp. As the two men sat at the warrior’s fire, the women from the other lodges began trailing closer, intent on offering assistance to the new mother.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments. The shaman pulled out a bundle of fur and carefully unwrapped a pipe. It was made of an antelope antler and intricately carved and decorated. The others watched as he carefully loaded the bowl with tobacco. He crouched forward and, with aged fingers, used two twigs to lift a burning ember, lighting the pipe.

The shaman spoke a prayer as he offered the smoke to the four directions. And then he took a puff of the pipe, using his free hand to guide the smoke towards his head and behind.

The shaman handed the pipe, stem first, to the warrior who repeated the process of smoking and guiding the cloud closer. And it was passed to the medicine man who did the same. The trio sat in silence, finishing this ritual. When the bowl held nothing but ashes, the shaman tapped it into the fire, releasing the last of it for the great spirits that ruled their world.

The warrior waited patiently, although her worries were growing by leaps and bounds the longer the wise men remained silent. She breathed a faint sigh of relief when the medicine man cleared his throat in preparation of speaking, unaware that her father had gone through this same arduous process seventeen winters earlier.

“You have a strong cinksi, wikoskalaka,” He Osni rasped, his voice almost a whisper from the extended use and the cold of winter.

“And Ketlin? How is my winuhca?” Anpo asked, leaning forward with intensity.

Inyan Ceye chuckled as he wrapped the pipe. “She is well, wikoskalaka. The labor was long, but the birth was quick.” He slipped the bundle into a pouch.

“Hau,” the older medicine man agreed with a snort. “The wakanyeja was stubborn until he made the decision to leave his ina’s san.”

Anpo’s face was a mix of concern and confusion. She had seen babies before but had never seen a newborn display obstinance. “Stubborn...?” Her dark head shook.

The shaman laughed outright at her consternation and clapped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hau, Anpo! Your cinksi will be stubborn, just like you and his ina! He will take a long time to set his path, but he will follow that path to the end when he finds it!”

Still not sure if this was a good character trait or not, the warrior’s answering laugh was a bit weak. Sitting still at her fire, Anpo fought with her natural inclination to dash into the ti ikceya and check on her winuhca herself.

Seeing the whites of the young warrior’s eyes, He Osni smiled and waved her away. “Go, wikoskalaka. Go see your family before you shake apart from within.”

A quick look at Inyan, who also nodded and urged her with a wave of a hand, and Anpo was up and into her woman’s lodge, scattering the other winyan and wikoskalaka like quail in the tall grass.

Inside, the ti ikceya was warm from the fire. Waniyetu Gi and Hca were both chattering and cooing at the blonde woman and the warrior found that puzzling. They have never treated Ketlin like that before.... There were other women in the lodge, some gathered around Kathleen and others tending the fire or tidying up. All stood aside with smiles on their faces when they saw Anpo approaching.

The small crowd parted and the warrior could see the yellow of her woman’s hair. “Ketlin?” she asked, her voice tentative as the flushed face and tired eyes met hers.

“Winuhcala,” Kathleen responded. “Come see your son.” She watched her warrior and partner kneel down beside her, dark blue eyes searching the handsome face for any sign. Now we’ll see, lass. Will she accept a child that isn’t hers? She chewed her lower lip in anxiety, despite Gi’s promising response.

As Anpo settled down beside her woman, she could see the reason for her family’s strange behavior. Something wrapped in a skin squirmed on Kathleen’s chest; small suckling noises and a tuft of black hair were all that could be heard or seen. She reached out but pulled her hand back at a sudden movement, startled.

Despite her worries and exhaustion, the blonde woman chuckled. She took her warrior’s hand. “It is fine, winuhcala.” Bringing their hands to the wriggling bundle, she brushed aside the skin, revealing the newborn. “You can touch him, Anpo.”

He is so.... His skin is so wrinkled! And then the warrior’s fingers brushed against the baby’s back. And soft! she thought, her face showing wonder. Growing a bit bolder, she placed her hand on his head, nearly covering it completely, the hair tickling her palm. As Gi and Hca hustled the remaining women out of the lodge, a smile grew on Anpo’s face.

Kathleen felt her worries trickle away at her warrior’s response. When the dark eyes met hers, she could see tears within them and felt her own eyes filling.

“Oh, Ketlin! He is beautiful!” Anpo finally breathed. She stroked the blonde’s cheek. “As are you, mahasanni ki.”

The tears spilled over and Kathleen sobbed in relief even as she laughed. “I am so happy you think so, winuhcala,” she offered by way of explanation.

“But, how could I not, Ketlin?” Anpo wondered. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And this child is from you.”

Kathleen cried a little harder at the sentiment, a mixture of love and relief and astonishment filling her. She felt the dark woman settle down beside her and gather them into her arms, gently helping to adjust the babe still feeding at her breast. The sleeping robes were brought up to cover the three of them and a song was crooned to her as she cried herself out.

When her woman’s tears had subsided, Anpo leaned back to look at her. “Are you all right, winuhcala?” Her long fingers brushed the tears from her face.

“I am more than all right, Anpo,” Kathleen responded with a smile. “I am very, very happy now.” And then on a whim, she did something she hadn’t done before.

Dark eyes widened as soft lips met hers. They were there for just a moment and then gone. Anpo felt a fluttering in her chest and she peered down at the blonde in her arms. She kissed me!

Having seen the startled look in her warrior’s eyes, Kathleen had broken the kiss but couldn’t resist a shy smile.

It was answered by a silly grin on Anpo’s face. Ketlin kissed me! With no thought, she hugged her woman tightly until a squirming newborn showed his displeasure by grumbling.

The dark woman backed off so quickly, that Kathleen had to laugh. She readjusted their son to the other breast and covered him again. “What will we call him, winuhcala?” The blonde took her warrior’s hand and pulled her close again.

Anpo resettled herself, keeping the new arrival in mind. “I have thought long and hard on this, Ketlin,” she said, watching their son with fond eyes. “Inyan told me he would be stubborn. And it was tatanka ska that brought you and he to me.” She used a finger to brush the dark tuft of hair. “I would like to call him Tatanka Teca.”

Feeling warm and relaxed, Kathleen’s eyes drifted closed. “Tatanka Teca it is then, winuhcala.”

As the blonde fell asleep, their son drowsing as he fed, Anpo held them both close and sang a song of joy to them. Soon her voice faded and the small family slumbered together.

The infant picked up a small stone and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Teca!” Kathleen scooped him up, fingers delving into the small orifice to fish out the offending rock. She tossed it away, settling her son in her lap.

The boy immediately began fussing, wriggling in an attempt to get away from his mother and explore further.

“Give him to me, winuhcala,” Anpo offered with a smile. She set her empty bowl aside and held out her hands. “I am full. You eat now.”

Relieved, the blonde woman handed over their bundle of joy and picked up her half eaten food. She watched with wonder as Teca stopped his cranky behavior, giggling at the faces her warrior made for him. I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been, finding her. Would Adam have made as good a father?

The warrior played with their son as her woman finished eating. He was settled on one bare leg which was moving lightly and causing him to bounce. The baby was still a bit unstable as he sat and Anpo held onto his small hands to keep him upright. “You will be a great pony rider, cinksi,” she informed him.

Teca gurgled his agreement, two bottom teeth shining brightly in the late afternoon sun.

“He will take after his inanup,” Kathleen said with some authority. “He will be a strong warrior and hunter.” Leaning close, she caught the baby’s eye. “Am I right, Teca?”

Dark brown eyes focused on the blonde and the child’s smile widened. He answered with a string of syllables that made no sense, though he was quite adamant in his view.

Laughing, Anpo picked him up and held him high overhead as he squealed with pleasure. “And he will speak many words like his ina. Both Lakota and English.”

There was a sparkle in the blue eyes that looked at the warrior. “Are you saying I talk too much, winuhcala?”

The dark woman brought the baby back down and tucked him into the crook of her arm. “Hiya, Ketlin!” was the mock sincere response. “I would never say that!” Anpo looked down at the child and, in a loud whisper, said, “Remember, Teca. They are winyan and do not make sense.”

A yellow eyebrow raised. “I believe that you are winyan, too,” she suggested.

Anpo’s smile widened and she scooted about to lie down, her head in her woman’s lap and the baby straddling her belly. “But I am a warrior and I make very good sense.” At Kathleen’s look of askance, the dark woman insisted, “It is true! My ate told me so!”

Kathleen shook her head, knowing that there was no winning this ‘argument’. With a smile, she bent closer and brushed her lips across her warrior’s forehead. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

The baby rocked, keeping the dark woman’s interest. His movement was a little spasmodic, however, as he was fighting sleep. Anpo began humming softly and pulled the boy forward until he was lying down, his stomach against hers. The song rattled deep in her chest and Teca’s ear, pressed against her sternum, picked it up. He began to relax against her.

“What is Nupa doing?”

With idle strokes along the baby’s back, the warrior turned her head to see what was going on.

Nupa Olowan was pacing in front of Waniyetu Gi’s ti ikceya. Despite the heat of summer, he was fully dressed in decorated moccasins, leggings and shirt, a large buffalo robe wrapped about his shoulders. A quilled breastplate hung down his front, various designs painted along the leather edges in blues and reds. His hair had been neatly combed and braided, three small quills dangling and two larger ones with red tips standing upright. The garish colors on his face seemed to glow in the evening sun, reds and yellows and greens appearing to leap away.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 610