He is my soldier. She is my Indian.

Chapter 4- Luana

Chapter 4- Luana

Sitting alone in the forest among the trees is like heaven. The stillness sets your mind at peace while the wind plays with your hair and tosses it around.

The birds sing a sweet melody that only they know the true meaning of. You can follow the squirrels with your eyes as they scurry along the tree branches.

This place is often my sanctuary. It is my place to escape the world. For I fear my world will soon come to an end. As much as I try to push away the thoughts that threaten to consume my mind, they refuse to be locked away in the deepest parts.

Our civilization is fading away. We are all aware of this fact.

The white man thinks we have golds and riches we do not posses. They come and come for more and more, but we have no more to give.

Our children our starving and we feed them more than anyone else in the tribe. Our stomachs shrink along with our resources.

Hunting has become scarce for the white men grow closer.

Our chief, my father, is sick. He denies it as do I and the rest of the tribe, but we will not have long before a new chief must lead us.

The new chief must be my husband, but I have none. Nor will I marry for anything but love.

I an ashamed of my selfish acts, but I believe it is what my mother would have wanted.

Although in her time we were not in such great danger. I must put my people before myself.

I try to push myself into a marriage but the wind pulls me back. There is something in my destiny. Something that would change if I was to wed.

I don't think my people would understand though.

I raised myself from the earth and brushed the dirt away. My long black hair tumbled down my back in messy waves and I could feel the nip of winter begin to take away the heat of summer. The river would soon freeze and there would be no more fish.

The river was not very far and even though the cold winds nipped at my skin I decided to go for a swim. As I walked along the path to the river I heard the leaves crunch beneath my bare feet.

The flowing of the river had a calming power. I could hear it wash against the banks so I began to run.

I pushed off from the bank and dove into the water.

The freezing water numbed all my senses, but I kept swimming. I swam like my life depended on it. I cut through the water until I had to raise to the surface for air.

I laid on the surface of the water just gazing at the clouds that floated through the sky above.

How I longed to just be able to float away with the current. I watched as the sun ran across the sky. Until it started to set.

I swam to the bank of the water and lifted myself out.

My deerskin dress clung to my thin body and chilled me to the bone.

I slowly walked back to the tribe where I knew I was in for a scolding. Being gone that long on such a cold night will surely have worried my father.

He has probably already gathered his strongest fighters to go in search for me once the sun disappeared behind the mountain.

I finally saw the smoke of the fire raising up into the air. It created fascinating patterns. One of the patterns always interested me.

It was two lines of smoke that crossed three times then curved at the top so the ends connected. The lines were not straight but curved. I often found myself tracing the pattern repeatedly on the inside of my ankle.

This is because my mark was just that.

All women in the tribe receive a mark. It is given to us by our mothers. It is said that each mark is different. Unique in some way. That the gods show them what pattern and where to burn it into our skin.

When a daughter is born a small stick is taken and dipped in pitch pine.

Then the pattern is drawn wherever the gods showed our mothers to draw it. After it is drawn the area is covered until the burns have healed and there is no way of infection.

When the daughter comes of age her mother tells her the meaning of the pattern. In my case I have no idea if I will ever know what my pattern means. I have no mother.

The elders know, but as a woman it is not my place to ask.

I stepped out of the woods into our clearing and went straight to the fire that was ablaze. I heard my father before I saw him.

"LUANA! Where have you been?! I was worried sick!

You should know better than to go off like that without telling anyone your location. You could have been killed!"

Without looking at his face I knew it was a deep crimson red. His nose would be scrunched up, and he would look twenty years older than he is.

"I'm sorry father."

I did not look up, but kept my eyes fixed on the fire before me. It flickered with oranges and yellows and reds.

I heard my father groan before he walked away and I gazed down at my feet. There was only one word to describe what I was feeling. Ashamed.

I felt a warm blanket fall across my shoulders. I looked up to see my mother's sister. She sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around my trembling shoulders.

"He means well. He just doesnt want to loose you like he did your mother." Her piercing silver eyes matched mine and those of my mother's.

"You look just like her you know? Your long black hair. How your mother would love for me to braid it just to let the braid unravel. She would always try to get away with what she knew she could not."

She put her delicate finger below my chin and lifted my face to look at hers.

"She also used to spend all day in the river and worry your father sick." She gave me a pointed look and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

Aunt Lucy smiled at me and stood back up.

"The baby will soon be waking and I must feed him."

I took in her appearance. Even though she had a child not long ago she was small and had perfect curves. Her deerskin dress was made tighter than the other women would wear and was not appropriate for a woman at all. She was the one that made my dress much to my father's dismay.

Her brunette locks swung down just passed her shoulders. They always seemed like gentle waves that caressed her face.

I bid her goodbye as she walked away to her home.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my body and placed my chin on my knees as I looked into the dancing fire.

I looked up and caught a pair of eyes staring back at me.

They were a shocking blue that was almost transparent. They were not like other Indians for I could see the flames flicker in his eyes. He nodded at me then stood up from his place around the fire and walked away.

He was tall and lanky but he was not weak.

He was a perfect warrior. Not too big, but not too small.

As my father would say, "A great match."

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