the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Eighteen

I slept the rest of the night in the widest part of the den, leaving the mare outside to eat where she wanted. Sometime before dawn I heard the scuffling sound of feet and opened my eyes. The coyote was there, just visible in the dim interior of the cave, nostrils twitching as it took my scent. We stared at one another, its stance rigid, ears flat, and my fingers tightened on the handle of the knife. Then in a blink, it was gone, whether to lie down in the front part of the den or outside I did not know.

Laying back, settling my cheek on my arm, I sighed then sat up as I heard the coyote howl from beyond the rocks, a complaining, whining sound. I felt bad for taking its home, but I would not be here long. Walking Arrow would be back and I needed to be gone.

Dawn found me on the banks of a shallow creek, washing briskly. The mare was nibbling grass nearby. A peaceful morning, with a clear sky, no sounds other than the birds and insects, but I was restless. With no purpose, no destination, I had to decide where my path would lead. Perhaps I should return to my people.

They would welcome me, and I needed safety, shelter, and food, especially to survive the coming winter. Sighing, I looked back once, feeling a swell of bitterness. Drifting on the current of the wind with Dun-Can had been pleasant, and I had little desire to reunite with my village. It had been so long, and I was so different now. Perhaps my path led somewhere else, and this was simply a bend in the river to guide my way.

Never would I forget Dun-Can. Never would I forgive Walking Arrow for taking him from me.

There were no fish in the little creek, but I dug up some tubers and bulbs that could be eaten raw, washed them off, and climbed onto the mare. Taking my bearings, I pointed her northwest, starting off at a brisk canter. My mind was occupied with how to supply myself with the provisions I would need, where to find them, and how much time I might have before the Sotaeo'o warrior came looking.

It did occur to me that I might follow the river, smoking fresh fish and setting simple snares for rabbits and ground birds. It was that moment the idea hit me, so suddenly that I gasped, sitting up straight on the mare's back. It would be tricky, and I would need more than a fair bit of fortune, but if I was cunning, I could do it.

~~~

The searing pain in his face had settled to a dull ache though his eye was still swollen tight. Once he was able to sit up, he began to feel better, movement the start of healing. Taking stock of where he was, Duncan found the jail cell old, musty, but solidly built, even if it was dried out wood. Nash studied him as he shifted about, taking in every detail.

"Not the Grand, but cozy," he quipped, earning an unamused look from Duncan.

"Where's my gun?"

"Locked in that desk yonder," Nash indicated the front office space. "Middle drawer."

"Key?"

"Hangin' on the peg."

Craning his neck to see, Duncan found the dull shine of metal. It was some ten feet from where they were, but for all the good it did them it may as well have been miles. Sitting back, exhausted from the small movement, he allowed himself to just breathe.

"She waitin' on you?" Nash's question snapped Conner's eye open in surprise, but the younger man indicated he'd seen the golden ring. Rubbing his fingertip across the band, Duncan felt a stab of guilt, followed by worry. She-Cat...knowing her temper and disposition, if he didn't get out of this soon she'd figure herself lied to and abandoned. She'd take the mare and go...where? Home? Finding one Sioux village in open country was nearly impossible.

Pushing up to a sitting position, he gingerly shook his head.

"No, I doubt she's waitin'."

"She give you grief about comin' here?"