the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Twenty Four

My heart was thudding so powerfully in my breast that I was struggling to breathe. The Sotaeo'o were coming, a great number of them. From the point of the outcrop, I had seen the trail of dust rising, heading toward where I waited. It was the appointed time for them to return with proof my children had been marked by the coyote spirit, and now I waited, anxious. Sundown was coming, and I had a small fire burning in front of the smaller den entry. Partly to keep the coyote away, partly to give me light.

Climbing down, I came around to the front as the first riders filtered into sight. They were dressed in their finery, offering respect in the presence of one they believed to be a spirit. And they kept coming, until at least two dozen sat on their horses, layered in a loose half-circle so they could all see me. Forcing myself to stay calm, I let my gaze drift over them one by one, then froze.

"Coyote Spirit," Clapping Elk spoke calmly from his horse. "The chieftain of their village insisted the young ones themselves come and present you with the proof of their obedience. This way you know we do not deceive you. We hope this does not displease you."

I could not speak. Never had I anticipated seeing them again, and felt myself go rigid. Taking my silence as permission, the two young ones slid from the horses while the rest stayed mounted, and together they approached where I stood. Waynoka was shy, holding her older brothers' hand tightly, her dark eyes very wide. Avonaco hid his uncertainty better, enough to meet my gaze as they came close, his thin shoulders straight. They both pulled up their sleeves, showing me the healing scabs on their arms that marked them with the sign of the Coyote. My son held out a soft tanned cloth stained with patches of blood.

"For you," he said quietly, and I shuddered. His tone was that of his father, his eyes, nose, and mouth the same. Repressing a shiver, I took the piece of hide from him, looking at my daughter.

"You fear me?" I managed, my voice slightly hoarse. She dipped her chin, then slowly looked up. Tears burned my eyes but I forced them back. I could see myself clearly in her and wondered if others would too.

"What do you want with us?" She asked softly, clinging tighter to Avonaco's hand.

"Nothing." It was smoother this time. "Only to assure myself you are safe and well."

Her eyes turned slightly curious the longer she looked at me, and she frowned.

"Have I seen you before, Great Coyote Spirit?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I think," glancing at her brother, my daughter hesitated. "I think I have dreamed of you many times."

At her words, my son looked more closely at me too, frowning.

"Yes...I think I have too. You look like..." he stopped, and I could see he was frightened to finish the thought, afraid of offending me. Knowing I dared not betray myself to them, still, I could not deny them, or myself, at least a partial truth.

"I choose to wear the likeness of the woman who gave you birth."

Waynoka's lips parted in sudden recognition and my son stiffened.

"Mother," his murmur was too low for others to hear, for which I was glad. "Yes, you do look like her. I remember, a little."

"Me too," Waynoka added shyly. "She would always sing to us, and laugh..."

"That's right," I remembered those moments clearly. "She loved your laugh."

"You know of her?" Their voices were simultaneous and eager. I nodded, refusing to smile.

"Yes, I know of your mother."

"Is she alive?" Waynoka asked, then cringed guiltily as Avonaco squeezed her hand in warning. I met her gaze, smiling sadly.