Greatest Change

Chapter 10

"Happiness is not a reward - it is a consequence. Suffering is not a punishment - it is a result." -Robert Green Ingersoll

          Clara impatiently paced around, looking down at the prints in the mud, her own that she was following in a pattern. By the means her fingers twitched and always had to tangle in something, whether her other fingers or even her hair, she was nervous. The men were all encircled in a tent, obviously having a conversation Clara was not invited to. That is what war was anyway: men talking useless strategies about how to win, not how to save lives. Guilt ate her more than the nerves. The Ojibwa scout was killed by Clara's hand, and even though it was more of an accident, it still happened. The scout had been in Dakota territory, so Chayton had assured her everything was fine. Did rumors spread? It worried her immensely. Not only because it was war, and men were bound to die, but Chayton could be one of those men.

          The men slowly exited the war-room one by one, some with a solemn tone, others with the determination of victory. They told their wives, their children, Clara watching their smiling faces transform into frowns. It was gradual, the curves of smiles slowly realizing the truth of what war was, and understanding the mortality rate. That was another thing Clara worried about, they had no medics, nobody with real medical experience. Of course, they had Shaman. But would spiritual chants and small herbs actually save a warrior from being severely wounded or even fatally? She didn't know.

          Chayton eventually stepped out; his face bold but looking upon the mud as he walked. When his head turned upward, he saw the familiar woman; freckles, brown curly hair and all standing there. Their eyes met. Chayton saw fear and worry in her hazel eyes. Clara only saw deep thought, and perhaps confusion in his eyes. Clara didn't realize how fast he was walking, for soon enough his fingers were gently brushing against her own as if he were too scared to even hold them. She didn't even realize how late it had gotten. Already the sky was dark and the fires starting. There was to be a feast tonight, in honor for the war and for divine blessings for a victory. Clara was not hungry, she had a pit feeling in her stomach, one that didn't even fade as Chayton touched her gently.

          Before Clara could ask the question, it was as if Chayton read her mind, "We leave at dawn."

          She nodded; a bit surprised at his answer. Dawn. Perhaps ten hours, maybe even less than that. If Chayton wanted to be well rested for tomorrow, then he needed at least seven hours of rest. That left only three hours to discuss, probably less with the feast included. Dancing, eating, smoking, the story-telling...it was a typical routine of Native American entertainment. Perhaps there wouldn't even be enough time. Time for what? Talk to him? Oh, because it seemed rational to discuss her fear of losing him when he seemed so confident! She could hear the own sarcasm in her head. That was probably the stupidest thing to do. He was prepared for this, he trained for this. It's what he was born to do right?

          "Clara?" Chayton questioned, seeing her stand there lost in thought again. He didn't mind it. He loved watching her think, but this was a pretty dark thought. Her face contorted into fears and worries he had never seen before.

          "I apologize, I was thinking," she spoke softly, and honestly. She couldn't lie to Chayton. She was easy to read to him. Perhaps it was the small connection they had between hearts. As if he were able to feel her emotions from thousands of miles away without ever seeing her face. If such a spiritual, romantic tether existed between two souls, Clara and Chayton had it.

          "I could tell. Anything I can do to calm those ruffled feathers?" he teased softly, a small smile on his lips as his fingers pinched the side of her hip. She immediately playfully slapped his hand, a smile on her own face. Strange how a few simple kisses broke some imaginary boundary. Of course, they still weren't allowed to show any romantics in public besides holding hands. But Clara would take as much as she could get tonight. She needed assurance he would be alright. He was the best Scout she knew but had never seen him fight. She only hoped he was as good as boasted to be.