the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Nineteen

Laying nearly flat, I waited, breathing softly. I had set the snare during the afternoon and was now waiting for my quarry. I did not want to kill the coyote, but I needed him. The heat of the sun baked my back and shoulders, sweat running along my spine and down my ribs. He would be around at sunset, most of his kind active at night. Holding the knife firmly in my hand, I steadied myself.

The idea hurt my heart, for animals trusted me and I hated the thought of killing one for anything but food or protection. Yet, in a way, his death would help to protect me, to further prove my identity to Walking Arrow, and anyone else. A startled yelp announced my snare had worked. I was up in a flash, running to where the coyote was thrashing and wailing, snapping viciously at the tight sinew noose. Having planned it out, I grabbed a large stone from where I had left it and brought it down swiftly, ending the struggle.

"Thank you, brother," I whispered reverently, gently pulling the noose free. "I will never forget this sacrifice."

I'd formed the noose from thin strands cut from my skirt and braided tight, and now tucked them behind my belt for another time. The carcass I lifted, carrying it quickly away to a concealed place where I skinned it, taking what fat I could and the organs needed to tan the pelt. Out of respect, I did not cut the meat for eating or take any of the teeth. Instead, I buried the carcass deep, piling stones over it and dusting them liberally with earth.

The first step of my plan was complete, and I was ready to create my own legend.

With the mare watching curiously, I started the task of tanning the hide but leaving the fur in place. It would take hours, time I wasn't certain I had. Working the brine into the hide, I stretched it as I went, scraping off any flesh or fat that still clung to the inside. It would take hours to cure, but I'd use the time wisely, collecting what other items I would need.

It had not occurred to me at first, in those brief moments of panic and uncertainty, but now I was thinking clearly. Small plants and flowers were abundant where I was, clay packed along the banks of the creek. Long blades of dried grass were everywhere, and I intended to use them. Checking over the coyote pelt, I smiled, pleased, hopeful.

By sunset, I had made over a dozen small dolls resembling warriors. With plant oils, water, clay, ash, and fat, I made colored pastes to decorate the figures. I mimicked them after the Pitahauerat, Sotaeo'o, and Inde warriors. Across the ones who I knew had been killed, I smeared a thick red line. It was good, very good, and would work perfectly.

Moving carefully back over the land around the den, I entered from the backside, squirming down into the darkness. Near the main entrance, I laid the doll with the red smear down, head toward the den. The others I hide inside the den for later. Leaving the same way I'd come, I made sure to leave little trace of my footprints, wanting to keep plenty of coyote tracks around.

Walking Arrow would find a disturbing surprise should he return to this place. Going back to the mare, I climbed up and turned her after the warriors. I did not know what village they belonged to, but I knew what direction to take, and scouting parties were never more than four or five days from home. Odds were, I could catch up by morning.

Keeping the mare to a steady pace, we moved across the prairie at a slow gallop all that day, and into the night. I was looking for lights, any sign of fire, or even the scent of smoke from a camp. The moon was high before I caught sight of the small flicker I'd hoped for. Slowing down, patting the mare's neck, I murmured softly, sliding from her back. Feeling the small pouch at my waist, assured by the weight of the knife, I moved forward.

Creeping slowly through the grass, alert to every sound, every scent, I eventually found the source of the firelight. Thinking themselves secure in their own country, their camp in a well-hidden place, they slept peacefully. The Sotaeo'o had not expected to be hunted at night. I meant to show them there was no safe place from my wrath.