The hate has gone from you to a faraway place you cannot find, as it was spoken in the prophecy. That's why it is time for you to walk your own way. You must fight the last great fight for the People, yes? And you must fight it alone. I have to stay here. For our mother, my children. You're our hope, our only hope."
"You call it hope? I call it running away."
"No! When we run, we find someplace familiar and safe. Winter will be upon us soon. You will face uncertainty and great danger when you go west." Giving Hunter a small shake, Warrior cried, "You our hope, Hunter! Why can't you see that? When the last Comanche puts down his weapon, when the last chief says it is finished, we will know it is finished. We will know that the People live on--far away from this place--that our songs are being sung, that our ways are being honored. I know you feel great fear, but fear has never stopped you. You mustn't let it stop you now."
"I will go wherever the Great Ones lead me," Hunter whispered. "You know I will. It's just that I can't see the path they want me to follow. There is no one to lead me."
"The path will be there. When you turn your face westward you will , deep within, where to place your feet." Warrior's voice rang with certainty. "I would ask one thing of you, Ride beside me one last time into battle. It will be our final memory of each other, yes?"
Once again Hunter remembered looking into that white man's blue eyes. When would it ever end? But his brother had made this request of him. "I will ride with you," Hunter whispered. "One last time."
Straightening his pallet, Warrior stretched out on his back, so close his arm brushed Hunter's. After a long while he said, "You will tell your sons and daughters about me, yes?"
Hunter wished he could weep, but the tears were dammed behind his lids, aching and burning. "Yes. And you will tell yours of me?"
"I will tell them." Warrior's voice cracked. "Of you and your golden one and the song that led you west. Love her well, The days together are brief."
"Yes." Hunter knew Warrior was thinking of Maiden of the Tall Grass. In a husky voice, he added, "Far too brief.
"You call it hope? I call it running away."
"No! When we run, we find someplace familiar and safe. Winter will be upon us soon. You will face uncertainty and great danger when you go west." Giving Hunter a small shake, Warrior cried, "You our hope, Hunter! Why can't you see that? When the last Comanche puts down his weapon, when the last chief says it is finished, we will know it is finished. We will know that the People live on--far away from this place--that our songs are being sung, that our ways are being honored. I know you feel great fear, but fear has never stopped you. You mustn't let it stop you now."
"I will go wherever the Great Ones lead me," Hunter whispered. "You know I will. It's just that I can't see the path they want me to follow. There is no one to lead me."
"The path will be there. When you turn your face westward you will , deep within, where to place your feet." Warrior's voice rang with certainty. "I would ask one thing of you, Ride beside me one last time into battle. It will be our final memory of each other, yes?"
Once again Hunter remembered looking into that white man's blue eyes. When would it ever end? But his brother had made this request of him. "I will ride with you," Hunter whispered. "One last time."
Straightening his pallet, Warrior stretched out on his back, so close his arm brushed Hunter's. After a long while he said, "You will tell your sons and daughters about me, yes?"
Hunter wished he could weep, but the tears were dammed behind his lids, aching and burning. "Yes. And you will tell yours of me?"
"I will tell them." Warrior's voice cracked. "Of you and your golden one and the song that led you west. Love her well, The days together are brief."
"Yes." Hunter knew Warrior was thinking of Maiden of the Tall Grass. In a husky voice, he added, "Far too brief.
( Catherine Anderson )
[ Comanche Moon ]
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