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** Some chapters have fade-to-black scenes **
When The Wolf howls, you answer the...
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The stars still sprinkled the inky black sky, the world immersed in silence. Leaves whispered in calm, hushed tones as though sharing a secret before the heralding of a new day.
The women were the first to awaken, shifting wordlessly from below thick furs as they withdrew from the comforting warmth of their husband's bodies. Greeting each other with a smile, words were not essential as they began to prepare the morning meal. Their men would be departing at daybreak, their meager food supply sorely diminished. Their hunting party would rejoin the tribe at twilight if they were successful - their first hunt since the recent death of Chief Raven.
Chief Long Knife stood at the opening to the longhouse observing the sun ascend over the hillside just above the treeline. Leisurely sunbeams expelled the final shadows of darkness away. Gentle Doe, heavy with their first child, joined him breathing in the crisp morning air. She placed her hand on her husband's sinewy forearm but didn't say a word. Gentle Doe didn't need to tell Chief Long Knife she would yearn for him, or that she was proud of him and the leader he was to their people. Chief Long Knife didn't need to tell her how much he cherished her, having shown her completely the depth of his devotion throughout the long night. At that moment they shared, Chief Long Knife tenderly caressed Gentle Doe's extended womb. Eagerly anticipating the birth of their first child after so many years of barrenness, he was certain the long-awaited baby would be a boy - the next chief.
Silence. Perfect silence enveloped the couple. Chief Long Knife's eyes searched the tree line, a premonition something wasn't right settling on his spirit. There was no movement, yet he couldn't quell the feeling of sinister foreboding.
His people were famished, eating the last of their rationed food supply. Iroquois warriors patrolled the waterways, yet they could not hide from their enemy indefinitely. With no alternative but to venture out, they prayed the Great Spirit would give them success. Without it, they would starve. The heavens had been closed up for weeks now, the ground as dusty as ash.
Chief Long Knife gazed down into Gentle Doe's mahogany-hued eyes, the silent exchange between husband and wife reassuring her of his love before Chief Long Knife turned, following his wife back into the longhouse where he ate the corn mash Gentle Doe brought him. Without a word, he glanced over his shoulder at his men who had finished eating. Standing handed Gentle Doe his empty dish, their fingers touching before the new chief led the way to their waiting canoes.
As silent as a dragonfly hovering over the water, the men submerged their oars into the water, birch canoes gliding over the glistening waves. Arms flexing as they paddled, Gentle Doe watched until they faded from sight before returning to her people. There was much work to be done.
