The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby by H L Grandin Page B

the ocean to settle in an untamed New World, his stories rooted the Weathersbys to the land, and solidified their longstanding relationship with the Ani-Unwiya. They explained the deeper truth that bound the young boys’ lives together. The relationship between their two families had been built upon a foundation rooted in ancestral honor, courage and brotherhood.
    Tyoga would honor that tradition—or die trying.

    Chapter 8
    Rescued
    T yoga awoke to the cackling shrieks of fussy morning crows. Sometime during the night, exhaustion had finally overcome the young man. He didn’t remember stopping. He didn’t remember placing the sled on a bed of moss, nor curling up along side his bloodied friend and passing out.
    Tyoga rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked on Tes Qua. He was shivering with fever and dripping with sweat. Seeing that he had succumbed to fatigue near a stream, he pulled some clean maple leaves from low lying branches, soaked them in the water, and touched the wet leaves to Tes Qua’s dry, cracked lips. He did not awaken to drink.
    As soon as he noticed the sudden quiet, Tyoga dropped to his stomach beside his friend. The birds had stopped their morning chatter and the only sound was the rustling of the breeze through the pines. Off in the distance, he heard what he thought was the sound of human voices over the rise. He remained perfectly still.
    As the voices grew fainter, the terror that numbed his hands at the realization that someone was headed their way was replaced with the terrifying thought that maybe they weren’t. He had to know. With the effort that it takes to move toward the unknown, he gathered himself and began moving quickly and quietly through the underbrush. Staring into the distance toward the voices, he instinctively placed his bare feet on the mossy patches on the north side of the trees to keep from alerting the party to his presence. He would only have seconds to decide whether it was help or harm that was on the other side of the hill.
    He listened.
    He couldn’t hear the voices any more.
    As he got to the top of the ridge, he caught a glimpse of four or five men rounding a bend that looped down to the stream on the other side. He could tell by their gait and the confidence with which they moved that they were seasoned warriors, but he was too far away to distinguish the tribe or village of their origin.
    Fear of being left alone with his dying friend overwhelmed reason.
    Standing on tiptoe on the very crest of the ridge he shouted out as loudly as he could, “O-si-yo!” (Help!)
    The men stopped.
    Jumping up on a hickory stump, he shouted again. This time he heard them crash through the brush as they ran towards him.
    Falling to his knees atop the stump, he repeated in a failing voice, “O-si-yo.”
    He didn’t care who they were or from what village or tribe they hailed.
    He was spent. His spirit was exhausted.
    Sitting back on his haunches, he said again, “O-si-yo.”
    When the men got to his side, they found Tyoga sitting with his eyes closed, shoulders slumped, head bowed and his raw swoolen hands, palms up, resting on his thighs whispering, “O-si-yo.”
    Without a word, one of the braves folded the shaking Tyoga in his arms while the others rushed to where Tes Qua lay next to the stream in the gultch below.
    He felt a strong thick palm caress his cheek and looked up into the kind gentle face of Yo-nev ga-do-ga (Standing Bear) the medicine man.
    They were saved.

    Chapter 9
    Recovery
    T es Qua slipped in and out of consciousness for days. The medicine man had cured animal bites and skin rashes; lanced boils and set broken bones. He had treated braves returning from battle by cutting arrowheads from organs and limbs, binding open wounds, treating the fevers that frequently followed infection and illness. Never before had Yo-nev ga-do-ga’s skills been so ardently tested.
    He administered willow bark and Yarrow tea to battle Tes Qua’s fever while his body fought the