Star of Daylight (Book Two of the Viking Series)

CHAPTER SEVEN - Running Deer

I woke up missing my wife, as I did every single morning since she had left. At least I was not completely alone. The twins were snug in their hollows. It was a rare occasion that our mothers allowed them out of their sight, but they were a comfort to me, and I had insisted the night before. They understood my distress and did not have the heart to refuse me, although my mother did try to stay the night in our wigwam, saying children were not men’s business.

I wanted to be alone with them and have them close. Roaring Lion reminded me so much of his mother with his blond mane, and Black Bear had her eyes and her temperament. Roaring Lion was more like me, quiet and strong. At least, that was what my wife said. Star of Daylight was my conundrum; reserved yet passionate, fierce and protective, yet happy and glowing. Of course, I saw her through the eyes of love.

I brushed my knuckles softly against Roaring Lion’s hair and he stirred in his sleep, popping his thumb into his mouth and sucking gently. He had taken to doing that since his mother had gone to training. They were walking now, and Star of Daylight would be sad to have missed it, but we both knew that if she had stayed, she could not be the great shaman she needed to be. At least my head comprehended that. My heart, on the other hand, alternated between missing her and anger at her absence.

I missed her beside me each night, just holding each other and talking over our days’ events. I could not sleep, because every time I closed my eyes, I could hear her laughter and see her smile. It filled me with longing, and I would have to arise from my hollow and either pace the wigwam or go for walks alone, traipsing through the village to the lake. I would sit there until the sun rose, the tribe along with it, when I could go about my day.

Sometimes, Raging Bear would find me there and just sit beside me in silence until I was ready to talk. He was more like a brother to me than a friend. Star of Daylight and I had named our son for him. The scars from the black bear ran deep across his chest, pink and white slashes that nearly killed him. It was my wife that had saved him and helped to create the bond between our families. Raging Bear, in turn, saved my wife from execution, and I have been forever grateful to him. He was a good man who believed in honor and he taught me that there were things in life that were more important than our daily lives.

A light fluttering at the door flap was the only sound I heard, but it made me look up from my contemplation only to see Summer Rain silently entering the wigwam. When she saw me, she smiled, and it warmed my heart. Her spirits had flown and I had grown up watching her misery at losing both Star of Daylight (though I knew her as Day Star then) and her husband, Prancing Elk, my wife’s father, along with the death of her own. I had never met him, but my wife told me that Roaring Lion was the image of him, right down to those blue, blue eyes.

“Good morning,” she whispered so as not to disturb the little ones in their slumber. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, Summer Rain.” I hardly ate anymore on my own and between my mother and Summer Rain, I was practically being force fed. She removed a bag from across her shoulder and opened the flap. Immediately, the succulent smell of caribou meat wafted up my nose. My stomach grumbled in response, and she laughed lightly. “I guess I need to eat anyway.”

She set about preparing a tea and tending the fire, while I took a healthy portion from the bag, pouring it into a birch bowl. As I ate, a momentary sense of peace washed over me. Since Star of Daylight had come home, Summer Rain’s temperament had changed drastically. She was happier than I had ever known her to be and her tranquility had a tendency to rub off on those around her. She walked around with a smile on her face and her gentle laughter was often heard around the village.

“I know you miss her, Running Deer,” she said quietly, “but she will be home soon, I am sure.”

“It has been difficult without her. I find myself constantly thinking about her and wondering if she is alright. I miss her most at night, when we would settle down, put the children to bed and talk about our days.” I t was then that we could shut out everything outside our wigwam and immerse ourselves in the private world we had painstakingly created together.