Comanche Dawn by Mike Blakely Page B

looking upon a woman completely naked would cause him to go blind. He wondered what to do next, but felt her straddle him, and knew he only had to lie there and learn.
    Her face was just above his, for he could feel her breath upon him. “I will be gentle this time,” she whispered, very softly. “When your wounds heal, I will be wild. As my friend Teal has said, I am wilder than wild, Shadow.”

9
    The Na-vohnuh had caught him sleeping and were torturing him, galling the flesh of his chest and inner thigh with knives and hot coals. He could hear his friend, Whip, screaming outside the lodge, and Slope Child was calling his name in a voice that sounded grotesque:
    â€œShadow! Shadow!”
    He awoke and saw his father’s face looking in at him.
    â€œThere you are!” Shaggy Hump said. “Why do you sleep with the sun so high? Come!”
    The waking youth looked around to make sure Slope Child was gone, then flung the robe aside. “Ah!” he cried, his wounds feeling very sore now.
    â€œCome, my son!”
    Grimacing, Shadow rose and took a hobbling step to the entrance hole.
    â€œWhere will you carry your medicine pouch?” Shaggy Hump demanded.
    It took Shadow a moment to figure out what his father meant, for he didn’t even own a medicine pouch, as he had yet to seek his medicine. Once he acquired it, the pouch would be carried inside his loin skins, but …
    Suddenly he knew why his father sought him, and he hurriedly tied his skins about him before stepping outside.
    They walked briskly across the camp, Shadow favoring the leg that the horse had stepped on.
    â€œDo you wish the women to shame you and call you elder sister?” Shaggy Hump asked.
    â€œNo, my father.”
    â€œThen do not walk like a cripple. That is only a scratch!”
    â€œYes, my father.”
    They passed by his parents’ lodge, where River Woman was tending to her chores.
    â€œGive our son something to eat, woman. He will go hungry soon enough.”
    River Woman drew a knife from her belted sheath and cut a length of pemmican—tallow, berries, seeds, and dried meat encased in deer gut. As Shadow ate this, she went to fetch a gourd dipper filled with milk taken from the udders of an antelope Shaggy Hump had killed at dusk yesterday. He ate and drank voraciously, on his feet. His mind swam with thoughts of Slope Child last night, his vision quest to come, great hunts and battles, and Teal in his lodge of days ahead.
    Looks Away came with an armload of wood. She began placing the wood stick by stick on the pile. Another woman would have thrown the whole load down at once, but Looks Away was quiet and meticulous about her work. She smiled at Shadow and spoke many wishes with just her eyes and her smile.
    â€œFinish your food as we walk,” Shaggy Hump said, pulling his son away.
    They marched across the camp, until Shaggy Hump put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Do you see that lodge?”
    Shadow beheld a small tipi, not much larger than his own, but painted elaborately with all manner of signs and animals and colors. The flap was open and a trail of smoke streamed from the peak. “Yes, my father.”
    â€œThat is the lodge of your Naming Father. He is called Spirit Talker. He will tell you about the journey, my son, and you must listen if you wish to have good medicine. Now, go. He waits.”
    Shadow handed the empty gourd to his father and approached the lodge cautiously. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw his father already stalking away, so he stuck his head into the open entrance hole of the painted lodge.
    â€œIs that you?” the gravelly voice said. “Are you the boy called Shadow?” It was the old man who had laughed at him yesterday for having gotten thrown from the colt.
    â€œYes, Grandfather,” the boy said, respectfully.
    â€œBefore you come in, move the wind-flap poles for me. The wind has shifted and my lodge is