Excerpt: Chapter Forty-One
"Why do we suffer? Must we suffer?" asked Runaway. Walking Wind lay flat on her back in bed. She grimaced and sighed. "I am not suffering, Little One," she said. "I will heal soon."
Runaway looked at her, knowing that she was in pain. "I must go soon, Walking Wind," he said softly.
"I know that you have been called," she said. "Where will you go?"
"I will be trained in Mississippi, and then go where they tell me to go," he said.
"This will be a good thing for you Runaway," said Walking Wind with a slight smile.
"I know that for me to prove myself in battle is a sign of greatness," said Runaway. He had been waiting for this chance for a very long time and finally would get to prove that he was worthy to be the grandson of a great Red Chief.
"Silver Feather will take care of you while I am away," he said sadly.
"I know that you will miss her and your little one," she said, "but you shall see them again Runaway."
Runaway bowed his head and pulled his long, dark hair back and over his shoulders. His son, Big Hawk was only two years old. Runaway was not anxious to go off to war and leave his wife and small son, but he knew that he needed to go, if not for himself, for them. Even if he hadn't wanted to go, he had been called and it was his duty. The Cherokee nation had joined the Confederacy in October of 1861, only months prior to his enlistment, and he was exactly the type of person for whom they searched. In his thirties and exhibiting many of the leadership qualities necessary to be a strong fighter, he was encouraged by the elders to go and represent their people.
"Runaway," said Walking Wind weakly, "You know that I will not remain until you return?" Runaway shuddered and his face twisted a little. He nodded and sat down on the edge of Walking Wind's bed, placing his hand on her shoulder and then taking her old, wrinkled hand in his own.
"Do you remember Rosy?" Runaway asked. Walking Wind looked startled for a moment. She was surprised that he would recall the memory of the old sow after all that had happened. He was only four years old when they found Rosy.
"Yes, I remember her," she said softly.
"Do not worry," he said. "I have put the pain of that time behind me." Walking Wind looked at him with greater surprise.
"Pain?" she asked. "You were sad about killing her?"
Runaway squeezed her hand slightly. "I remember that we had been sleeping out in the cold for many nights with no food, shelter, or warm clothing. At night, I would sleep next to you and Rosy, trying not to think about the pains from hunger that kept me awake. Then one night, I thought to myself that if I had those pains and that hunger, then you must be in pain also. I took your knife from the pouch that night," Runaway paused, feeling the pain return.
"I took the knife," he continued with a tremulous voice, "And I took her into the dim area at the outer ring of the fire. I patted her on the head and said 'Goodbye, Rosy.'" He stopped talking and looked at Walking Wind.
Walking Wind's eyes were full of tears and her hands trembled uncontrollably. "Walky," he said, "I would do that again if you could live to see me return." Runaway finally broke down and fell into the arms of the only mother he had ever known. He had lived through any and all things with her, and now, she was lost to him.
Walking Wind held him close for a moment and then took him by the shoulders and nudged him back gently. She looked into his deep, blue-gray eyes. "Before you go," she said, her brow wrinkled deeply, "I must tell you about your parents."
"You have already told me about them many times," said Runaway.
Walking Wind shook her head. She reached inside her cloak and pulled out a leather band with a piece of wood on it. She pulled it slowly over her head and placed it in Runaway's hand.
"Your name is George Washington Skipper," she said.
Runaway looked at her in disbelief . "What do you mean, Walky?" he asked, moving back from her.
"You must listen to me," she said. "That piece of wood is your only link to your past and your family besides me."
Runaway looked down at the little piece of wood in his hand and rubbed it. He didn't know why, but it had a familiar look and feel. He put it to his nose and smelled it. "Cedar," he said dreamily.
"Yes," said Walking Wind. "Your father made it for your mother long ago when he was taken in by the Tsalagi in our old land."
Runaway looked up sharply and stared at Walking Wind. "I thought my father was Tsalagi!" he said, confused.
"Your father is a white man," said Walking Wind. Runaway sat down and shook his head, trying to get his mind around what Walking Wind was trying to tell him.
"That piece of wood is part of a larger carving that your father made for your mother. They loved each other, but your grandfather, Red Tree, the great Red Chief, forbade them to be together. He thought that his daughter and only heir should stay with the Tsalagi and produce the next leader for her people."
Walking Wind told Runaway the story of John and his family and the death of Prescott. She told about John's and Tsalahi's defiance of Red Tree.
"So why am I here?" asked Runaway, puzzled. Walking Wind looked down and said nothing. "You brought me here, didn't you Walky?" he said, finally beginning to understand.
"Yes," she said.
"Why?" he returned.
"I thought it the right thing to do," she said, looking up with tears in her eyes. Runaway was still shaking his head, trying to understand the whole thing. "There is more that you must know now," said Walking Wind.
"First tell me why you took me away," Runaway said patiently. He was upset and confused, but he loved and respected Walking Wind. She looked at Runaway for a moment and tried to quell her tears.
"We thought that you should come with us," she said, trying to find the words to tell him.
"We?" he asked
"Hand on String explained your lineage to me and we both knew that as a half-white man, you would be more than a chief. You would be able to live in both worlds and make the Tsalagi great again," she said, trembling.
"You took me away from my family for that?" he asked, growing more agitated.
"Yes," she said weeping a torrent of tears, "but I loved you, too!"
"Then why did you do this thing?" he asked, flaring with anger.
"Because I would never see you again," she said.
Runaway walked toward the door. "Now you will never see me again," he said in a quiet rage. He opened the door, intending to leave.
"They might still be living," spouted Walking Wind. Runaway stood motionless for a moment, and then shut the door.