The autumn of my eighteenth year the hunting was good. Once we reached the bottom the day we left the mountain, we wasted no time. We took turns pulling the sled in an effort to get the meat we killed over the last four days home before thawing could gain a foothold.

It wasn't like we weren't accustomed to the physical demands of pulling three to four hundred pounds of meat on each sled, but once we got it moving, the pulling part wasn't that big a deal. The running part could take its toll on the human body, after a time.

It wasn't like we didn't push ourselves to the limits of our running ability. At times like these it was a matter of pride to pull the sled faster and further than any other warrior could pull it.

We had never done battle with the cavalry, because we were the sons of fathers who were killed in battle while we were too young to remember them. We had been kept away from doing battle until we could grow into men. I was different in this way too. My father still lived.

Our fathers were not there to teach us, and that fell to Chief Lone Wolf and Dark Horse, who told us how best to become warriors who would defend the village when the time came, and we all knew that time would come.

We trained all our lives, and hunting was the closest thing to doing battle. We pushed ourselves from dawn to dusk in the worst of conditions, while we brought down the meat that would last us until the spring hunt. That was the easy part of our trips to the mountain.

When we ran, pulling the sleds, endurance was the key to feeling like we had defeated the enemy at hand. The faster we pulled, the sooner we would get our meat to where it was salted, smoked, and prepared for storage, while the village feasted on meat that was on the first sled that came back two days before.

It wasn't warm on the bottom, but on top, it was twenty to thirty degrees colder. After freezing in our base camp and trying to keep close enough to the fire to gain a benefit from its warmth, we frequently needed to pull ourselves away from the only source of heat to do the things that needed doing while in camp.

Running Horse involved himself in preparations that prepared the meat for the trip back to the village. He made sure it was stacked properly, and once the first sled was on the way back, we poured water on the sleds that would freeze overnight. This way there would be little thawing on the way home. The meat on top of the first sled that went back would be ready to go on the fire by the time the hunters got it to the firepit where the feasting would begin.

Getting a sled of meat off the mountain was the hard part. Once we reached the flat land, with five or six hunters doing the pulling, we could keep the meat moving at a trot. By the time I pulled one of the sleds for only a few minutes, I began to sweat. It didn't come as a surprise. I had been going on hunts and pulling the sleds full of game for the third year now. I hated the bitter cold, but I didn't mind the beads of sweat dripping down my back and chest. By the time I was done pulling, my legs would also be sweating.

When I dopped away to give the chore to another boy, he was in beside me in an effort to keep the sled moving, because once the sled stopped, the hardest part of the pull was getting the sled in motion. Once in motion, we made every effort to keep it in motion, but we all stopped to drink at a source of water.

I was waiting for Lit'l Fox to faulter when his turn came, and I was ready to run more if it saved Lit'l Fox from exhausting himself. The feasting would go on all night, and it wouldn't do for Medicine Woman to be in our lodge nursing my brother. When I moved to take over for him, Running Horse moved with me, but I took the sled for a while. Running Horse stayed beside me, and he was ready to take over if I appeared to be tiring.

Once we were on the bottom, and able to pick up the pace, Running Horse would always get one of the two sleds moving, and he would run faster and last longer than anyone else. No one objected when Running Horse was doing most of the pulling. It was the way it was done on hunts, and we all did it often enough to know how it would go.

Any time Running Horse was close to me, all other things lost their ability to tire or deplete me. With Running Horse pacing me, I pulled longer than anyone else but him.

It wasn't a matter of how far or how fast Running Horse went compared to other boys. It was the matter of him doing more than anyone else to prove to himself that he was worthy of the post he would inherit from Chief Lone Wolf.

I couldn't match his strength or stamina, but I wasn't going to be the chief, and Running Horse was. He proved he was the man for the job every day. When it was time to pull the sleds, we knew what Running Horse was going to do. So, I did my best to pull it for as long as I could to make it a little easier on him.

His being beside me encouraged me to pull for longer. I knew if I pulled long enough, and if Running Horse pulled even longer, Lit'l Fox wouldn't need to take another turn. It was another reason for me to pull longer.

We both knew my brother's heart was not strong. Four or five days in near zero temperatures took a toll on him that it didn't take on the rest of us. Lit'l Fox's heart worked overtime trying to fight the cold. We feared he would take on more than it was wise for him to do.

Medicine Woman warned us of the consequences. She also told me that she saw the results when Lit'l Fox went beyond his ability in proving he was as good as any boy in our village.

Lit'l Fox was probably the best of us, but he only felt it when the weakness kept him in the lodge for too many days in a row.

One thing was for sure, if he thought we took longer turns to take the strain off of him, he would have had something to say about it. Lit'l Fox did everything everyone else did, and he pushed himself harder than anyone else had to push. The idea his heart wouldn't stand up under the strain was not our worry. It was his, and there was nothing we could do that he couldn't do.

My brother was tough. It was his heart that was weak.

Lit'l Fox was always there for me no matter what we did, and as I learned to be Pawnee, he stayed by my side until my confidence had grown. We weren't much different in size when he found me, but he was three years older than I am.

I was growing into a man now, and I would carry the weight for him. I was bigger, stronger, and I had no ailment of the heart. While my brother wouldn't admit his exhaustion, when he faltered, I was there to take over.

When I say we ran, it was more of a trot, and once you got the weight moving, it didn't feel that heavy, and I could trot that way for hours by that time, and Running Horse made sure he pulled longer than anyone else.

My man didn't brag or try to make other Pawnee braves feel inferior to him. He did what he did, because he would be chief, and he would need to be strong as well as wise to earn the respect of the people.

Pouring water on the two sleds that went back the morning of the fifth day, meant they were frozen through by morning. It would get warmer during the day as we moved toward the village, and the meat would start to thaw, but the first sled to go back the morning of the third day, wasn't solidly frozen, because we let the meat freeze naturally without water. That meat would reach the village ready to go on the fire to get the feasting started.

The feast was everything after the hunt. Our bellies were empty. We were exhausted, but being handed freshly cooked meat revived us.

It wasn't nearly warm enough for meat to spoil on its way home.

It was definitely warmer once we hit the flat lands, and we each pulled for shorter periods as the day wasted away. We could see the fires in the village burning miles away, and we smiled knowing we were almost home, and our bellies gave out a cheer for what was coming.

It was the grandest feast since I joined the clan's hunters in the hunt. Both Chief Lone Wolf and Dark Horse sat at the firepit, next to their hunters. The talk was excited. The chief gave thanks to each of his hunters and for the bounty we brought him. He was quick to single out Running Horse, as delighted voices rang in our ears.

"And you, my son, what did you bring us on this fine hunting trip?"

"The biggest buck, Chief. I shot an antelope and four rabbits. We had to leave before we took too many of our brothers and sisters who feed us. They were fast to jump in front of our arrows. The Great Spirit has furnished our village with much meat that should last the winter ahead."

Lone Wolf patted Running Horse's back as they stood together.

"And you, nephew, how did your bow fare on this trip?"

He spoke to me.

I choked on a mouthful of venison, and some bread I stuffed in my mouth for good measure, and then, he looks straight at me and asks how I faired.

"Uh, I, uh," I said in perfect Pawnee.

It was difficult to swallow all that food. The chief smiled at me knowing he caught me off guard. It wasn't unusual for him to do such a thing. I wasn't sure he remembered I was one of his hunters.

Everyone laughed at my predicament.

I swallowed it all, fearing I might get some in my windpipe, but I didn't.

"A buck, not as big as Running Horse's. Not sure of how many rabbits, but an antelope wandered into range as we were ready to call it a day," I said. "I got him before he knew we were there."

"My best hunters never fail to impress their chief. When the time comes to do battle, Chief Lone Wolf will be proud to ride into the battle with both of you, and my other fine warriors. You will take your place in defending your village. You have proved your worth on this, your autumn hunt."

It was lofty praise we earned as we grew into the village warriors.

Everyone cheered. I cheered too.

It was like cheering myself, but I deserved a job well done. It wasn't easy to transform from the white boy who lived in the valley where the river runs, to a Pawnee warrior who lived on the far side of the mountain.

I was home. I knew I was home, and I was happy about it.

I ate too much. I ran too hard. I stayed up too late, and when Medicine Woman suggested we return to our lodge for sleep, we were all ready.

Just before I ducked into the opening, I stopped and turned to Dark Horse. I hugged my grandfather a second time.

"Grandfather," I said fondly.

I said it in front of Lit'l Fox, so he heard.

When I turned to hug my grandmother, I caught sight of Lit'l Fox. He too hugged the great man, and I heard a sob as Lit'l Fox spoke, "My father. My grandfather. Thank you."

I finished hugging my grandmother, and as I stepped back, Little Fox took his grandmother in his arms. Grandmother. Mother. Lit'l Fox thanks you."

It was the first time we were alone since returning from the mountain, and it wasn't Lit'l Fox who sobbed. I looked at his eyes, and they were clear and proud. When I looked at Dark Horse, his eyes were full of tears.

Lit'l Fox knew the truth, and he loved both of them even more than he loved them before. He would never tell them he knew the truth from Lone Wolf, and I was never going to speak of it. It had all worked out, even when I made a mess of trying to tell Lit'l Fox a truth he already knew.

The great man was happy that no more secrets lived in our lodge.

I made a mess of talking to my brother. He had done far better with the news than I had. It was difficult not to bumble at times with so much I was trying to remember so I didn't remind anyone that I was a white boy, but I really wasn't a boy any longer. I had been called a warrior by my uncle and chief, and if that wasn't testimony to my manhood, I don't know what would be.

In my first life, I left the cabin in the valley where the river runs to become a man. I had become one. I got me a griz and a lot more in the bargain. I found the life I dreamed of having, and I never intended to have or to need a third life.

As I was to learn, the steps you take don't always lead you to where you think you are going. I couldn't have dreamed where future steps would take me.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

As years ticked off one by one. Running Horse and I had discovered new and creative ways to get off alone from the other boys during our hunts and while we were in the village doing everyday things. Being alone together was the object of things we did.

We rode horses more than we walked. We rode together and we rode off alone to find that perfect place to let the horses graze, drink, and romp as Running Horse and I romped in the tall grass and among the trees.

Each day began with a smile, and each day ended with a kiss. The life in the village was good, although, game once plentiful had to be searched for, and on some days, we came back without game, once we came back from a hunt, and we dropped back to the pond to take some fish that became the meal of the day more often than we liked to fish for fish.

Even Running Horse might stand an hour to flip one fish out of the pond, and squash, potatoes, and beans filled our plates more often than meat.

This was when the hunts moved up to the first sign of a freeze, and if snow appeared on the mountain, no matter when it was, a hunting trip was moved up so we could replenish always dwindling meat supply.

We were still isolated in a spot that saw little contact with the outside world. I never minded not seeing outsiders. I had a fear stir inside of me every time a stranger appeared, no matter how friendly they seemed. It was one more person who knew we were here. When people find out a thing, they like to talk about it.

One day they would tell the wrong person, and what would become of us?

The fish were still in the pond, even if they made us work to get to them. The water still flowed as it always had. Chief Lone Wolf was alive and well, but he held Running Horse's arm when they walked over the lovely summer evenings.

It was the only time the chief was seen in the village, and each person they met stopped to wish the aging chief well. Running Horse often did most of the talking, and the chief smiled and acknowledged each person who stopped to talk.

As the autumn hunt was approaching, no one wanted to say, "Chief Lone Wolf will not see another autumn hunt. He began to look frail. Dark Horse fared no better as the days passed. The village's only warriors from two generations before would soon make their final journey.

No one had to say the words. We all knew the future for the two most respected men in the village. People gravitated to Running Horse more and more and he took on the mantle of chief. Lone Wolf no longer attended meetings, and if his passing disrupts the flow of life in the village, there is no sign of it today.

When it is time for the hunt, Medicine Woman and Dark Horse sleep in Chief Lone Wolf's lodge. No one wants him to be alone and Dark Horse is in a similar condition. They all enjoy being together and upon our return from the hunt, Running Horse and I were able to stay together in Medicine Woman's lodge as moving back and forth was too disruptive.

Change is in the air in the village, and we do the things that need to be done and face each day anew.

Somewhere along the way the hunters and warriors didn't play as much as we took more seriously the things we did. When the final boy is accepted into manhood and joins the hunters on the hunt, everyone acts more like men.

It was no different in Chief Lone Wolf's village. Each new hunter added to our ability hunt, even when game seemed to diminish each year. Even bringing back half the meat we once brought to the village, it was no less important. We spent more time waiting, and less time shooting and quartering larger game.

Because Running Horse spent hours each day in Chief Lone Wolf's lodge, and we began doing our own cooking in Medicine Woman's lodge, getting off alone together took creativity on our part. The fact we lived together in Medicine Woman's lodge did make it easier to be together at night.

For the first time, we slept together in Running Horse's buffalo robe. Lit'l Fox slept on the other side of the lodge. There was no doubt he knew what was going on a few feet away, but he never mentioned it.

He always smiled at us as we struggled to pull ourselves out of our sleeping arrangement in the morning. Lit'l Fox always got plenty of sleep.

I couldn't leave Running Horse alone.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

As Running Horse leaned his back against our tree, and I leaned my bare back against his bare chest, we spoke of our joy. We had lives as good as lives could get. I was sure of it. I was sure each time we made love, sitting together afterwar. I knew how lucky I was to be with the most beautiful Indian ever.

We never spoke about when he became chief. He was chief. He would not take the title until Chief Lone Wolf took his final journey. He met with Lone Wolf when something needed to be decided. The chief's mind was still good, but he no longer told Running Horse what he decided. He suggested an idea for Running Horse to consider, but when he spoke to the village, it was his decision now.

It did take time alone for him to make decisions. I gave him the time he needed. I was in no hurry, and there was nothing we needed to do that couldn't be done later, if the village needed his attention or reassurance.

Running Horse nibbled on my neck. He tried to pull me closer without success. We couldn't have gotten closer if we wanted to. The love making might have been over, but we didn't want to pull ourselves away from each other.

"Hunt on mountain soon," I said.

"Soon," he said.

I watched Young Antelope on the path to our patch of grass.

"Hey, you guys," Young Antelope said, coming from the direction of the pond. "Fish for evening meal. You best fisherman, Running Horse. You two let go of each other for a few minutes. You won't die of loneliness in the time it takes to fill the pots in the lodges. We never have the luck Running Horse has when we fish. He has the magic in his hands."

"Young Antelope, too bold for own good," Running Horse said. "We have no trouble letting go of each other for time it take to fish."

"Yeah, well, do it and come catch some fish. It won't be that long before we eat, and Medicine Woman says we should catch fish so we not eat the rest of the meat. It too soon to plan the fall hunt."

"Ice on pond later this week," Running Horse said. "We hunt next week."

"How do you know that?" Young Antelope asked. "You're out here naked, and you know there will be ice on the pond by next week?"

"Chief knows much," Running Horse said.

It was the first time I heard him say it in front of anyone but me.

It was still warm enough to lie in the grass naked, but the weather had started to change, and the days were shorter and not as warm as in summer. The autumn hunt was no more than a few weeks away, and the meat stores were low. Fish and rabbit would get us through until the autumn hunt.

We got up and hugged and kissed, before I put on my breach cloth. Running Horse was in such a state that getting all of him into his breach cloth took a bit more time than it took me. We just finished loving each other, but he could have gotten up for another go.

"Big boy need larger cloth or smaller pisser," I said.

I laughed at my humor.

Running Horse pushed himself back into the cloth as we joined the hunters at the pond where only a few fish lie on the banks.

Once Running Horse stepped into the water, he was soon flipping out fish on to the bank. He hadn't been so lucky over the summer, but this proved to be a good day for fish, and the rest of the fisherman relaxed.

They wouldn't be there for hours to get enough fish to feed the village. There was always squash, potatoes and beans. We wouldn't go hungry, but gradually the bounty we once enjoyed became just enough to keep us well fed.

I wasn't sure how long we would have enough to feed everyone. I had the thought before, and Running Horse had no trouble getting fish, but I feared a time when there was no game or fish. No one could say the squash and potatoes would always grow. I had that thought before.

The hunters all stood to watch how he could catch fish with his hands. I watched him catch fish with his hands. I had done it, but I might get one or two fish in that fashion. Running Horse seemed to attract fish to his hands.

He stood still as a statue before slipping up another fish.

He was magnificent.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

We left on the autumn hunt a week later. The pond had a sheet of ice on it and the stream had ice dotting the water's flow. It wasn't as cold as it was going to be on top, but snow appeared on the mountain a day or two after we fished for our supper.

Our mood was one of Pawnee hunters going to hunt. We rode horses to the camp at the bottom of the mountain. The horses were sent back to the village with the youngest hunter, Barking Dog, but he was determined to hunt, and so he would join us on top and on the third day horses would be brought to take the first sled back, if there was a first sled that came down on the third day.

The hunt last spring saw one sled of meat total, after a week of hunting. It was not a full sled. Young Antelope was the one who began the practice of bringing horses out to meet the hunters, when he took the first sled back the autumn before. Using horses was part of the hunt now, and boys who once frolicked and enjoyed the walk to the mountain would rather ride.

It was a change as the poor hunting in the spring was a change. Time was passing unnoticed in the village next to the stream on the far side of the mountain. Our isolation didn't mean things weren't changing beyond our wilderness where the settlers continued to come.

The snow appeared early on the top of the mountain, and it was now far enough down the mountain to mean it was time to hunt. It was time to test our bows and our stamina. Once on the mountain, we fought the cold and the poor footing and the fire that no longer seemed warm enough.

We would stay one week, if it took a week to fill a sled, but we remembered having enough meat to last us after four or five days of hunting. One bad hunting season didn't mean all the hunting would be that way.

We had high hopes.

Nine of us left for the mountain. Barking Dog came back on foot once he delivered the horses safely to the village. He was in our camp below the snowline shortly after we got there. He was young and anxious, and he got high marks for his enthusiasm. He was now a hunter.

We cleaned our camp while scouts went out to check for game. We could move camp if we felt we might have better luck in another camp. Last spring we did move camp after not getting much but a few rabbits and an antelope. We hadn't moved camp once we picked the camp we would use once we got on top. It was a new experience for me, and we did get a little game once we moved.

Running Horse took Lit'l Fox with him to scout the area. I was involved with dragging tree limbs that had fallen since our last visit out of the camp. I cut wood I could from long ago dead limbs. It made good fuel for the fire that would burn for the next four or five days.

It never hurt to leave wood behind us that stood ready for the fire the next time we used this campsite. Wood never went to waste on the mountain. There were fewer trees further up. We camped below the snow line because it was colder once you reached the snow. It was plenty cold before you got to the snow.

It was plenty cold in camp, and we kept a fire going all the time.

It burned down at night. The fire served another purpose, when villagers looked up at the mountain, they saw our fire burning. It signaled that all was well with the hunters. When we got up to break camp, we made sure the fire was out and not able to start back up once we were gone. The lack of a fire when the village got up signaled, we were on the way home.

Running Horse checked to make sure where it was best to do the business at hand without contaminating our source of water, which came down from a place well above us. It proved to be a good spot, because the stream was so close. More often than not, we needed to walk a fair distance to bring water back. This spot meant less walking once we settled in for the evening meal and sleep.

Some sources of water were there one year and gone the next, as the mountain went through changes while we were snug in the village far below. The one thing that never changed, this was a place that still yielded up a lot of game.

We hunted further up on the mountain where the deer and rabbits were more plentiful by this time in the autumn. They didn't mind the cold as much as I did, and the fur on the rabbits served to keep me warm under my buckskin shirt. My legs didn't get as cold, and with fur next to my chest, I stayed warm most of the time, but rabbit fur wasn't the only thing I had to keep me warm.

We cleaned the camp once we were all up and circulating. Some meat was put on the fire to go with us once we went off to hunt. Today and tomorrow, we hunted from first light to near dark. We had hot meat to go off to the place where we would hunt on this day, and we ate cold meat at lunch with flat bread we used to hold the meat as we ate enough to be full. This way we didn't need to build a fire that would alert animals to our presence while we waited.

On the second morning, I got out of our lonely buffalo robe and went to gather wood to keep the fire going for another day, or until the morning of the next day. It was the turn of Turtle and Barking Dog to take the first sled off the mountain. The youngest hunters needed a smaller dose of cold the first time out, and this meant they got off the mountain first, and they got the first sled of meat home. This started the feasting and we came home to hot fresh game once the rest of the hunters left the mountain for home.

I heard them leaving the morning of the third day, while I was still in Running Horse's arms. It was beyond first light, and Running Horse was normally up getting meat ready to cook. He would see off the first sled, but today he stayed with me in the buffalo robe for longer than usual.

Then I got him going, he stood up, not prepared to spend another hour or two doing what we did for most of the night. It got rather lonely when he took his stiffness to an out of the way place to pee, and I laughed when I heard him creating another stream on this side of camp.

Without Running Horse to hold me inside the buffalo robe, it was a lonely place, even when we were sharing each other's warmth a minute before. I may as well get up and get accustomed to freezing my ass off. It was a hard job, but someone needed to do it. It was a cold job I wish I didn't have when it was time to leave the buffalo robe.

The cold never seemed to change. It was always just as cold as ever. I didn't like being cold. I disliked being cold from the times as a small boy when I had to get up in winter to go feed the animals and tend to their water that froze overnight. I never froze, but I came close a few times, and getting up in the dark wasn't my favorite thing. How did you know what scary things were in the dark with you?

Some autumn hunts were quite successful, and some were merely good. We knew two sleds going back was a good hunt. Three sleds was very good, and we ate ourselves silly once we got to the village where the meat was being prepared for storage, if we didn't eat it all first, but we ran out of appetite long before we could put a dent in the game we hunted.

Young Antelope joined the hunters on my first winter hunt. He was on every hunt with me. If I disliked the cold, Young Antelope hated it. Big Bear joined the hunters a winter later, and two winters after that, Turtle and Barking Dog became hunters and it gave us more pulling power for the sleds, once we started home.

Our elders became more relaxed as we reinforced our numbers. In a fight, we could field twenty young warriors, and our elders were always ready for a fight, even when they knew that against the cavalry, we could inflict no more than minor damage, but we could hurt them before they overwhelmed us.

Lone Wolf did his job the way he saw it. After the massacre, when there were a handful of warriors left alive, he moved the village to the place where the creek and the stream met on the far side of the mountain. This was the place where Lone Wolf's band would grow stronger and remain out of the reach of the cavalry for now.

Lone Wolf made more appearances during the feasting during my seventeenth and eighteenth year. He hardly was seen my first two years in the village. He talked with the elders and when he appeared, it was with Dark Horse at his side. Even as village elders, they were still impressive when I first arrived.

There was no talk of conflict or war, but the next two years, when we came in after the hunt. Chief Lone Wolf spoke to his warriors. He spoke to us as having a sacred place in the village's history and future. It wasn't exactly a call to arms, but the chief left no doubt that we were lucky since the massacre. We had withdrawn and waited until the time when we could protect ourselves once more.

He still met with his elders with Dark Horse on one side and Running Horse on the other. As I turned nineteen, when Chief Lone Wolf called for a council, I began being called to sit beside Running Horse while the elders witnessed the coming change and the two Pawnee who would sit in his and Dark Horse's place.

I may have been Pawnee, but sitting in on such meeting had me feeling like the chief knew something he wasn't telling us, but he knew he wasn't going to lead us into battle. I had the feeling he wouldn't be in the battle.

I thought the same about my grandfather in the summer of my nineteenth year. I hugged Dark Horse often, and his eyes told me he knew why.

Chief Lone Wolf grew old by my fifth year in the village. He looked old and each time he spoke, he sat down to let Running Horse speak. This was the order of things. No one asked why he stepped aside for Running Horse. Years before he told us that Running Horse would be chief. He didn't say, after his death, but no one looked at him now and didn't know that was part of it.

A chief knew much, but sometimes grandsons knew a thing or two. I only had a grandfather I loved for a short period of time. He would leave me too soon.

I was told the year after my heritage became clear to everyone, "You will sit at Running Horse's right hand, as Dark Horse sits at my right hand."

I don't mind telling you, that scared hell out of me. How could I advise a chief of the Pawnee? No one knew I was Pawnee but Maw, Paw, and the Prophet. I didn't know what it meant to be Pawnee, until I went hunting for a griz.

I was a hunter. I would be a warrior when called upon. I had doubts I could kill a man. That doubt had been present since shortly after Lit'l Fox found me. I watched my brother kill two men. I still wasn't sure I could kill a man. It was more than a little worrisome. A warrior needed to be able to kill and to die.

These days, warriors knew the truth about how they would die.

I saw the dynamics involved in the hunt and in leading the hunters/warriors. I was respected because I often brought in a similar amount of meat to Running Horse. My arrows were deadly to game, but I didn't know I could aim my arrow at a man and kill him. I frankly didn't want to know if I could kill a man when the time came. Killing men didn't appeal to me, but then, I remembered the men in Lawrence's store. I was sure I could kill one of them.

I knew we had enemies who intended to end us. I was willing to stand beside Running Horse in war and peace, but how could I kill someone?

I had no desire to kill anyone.

I didn't grow up in a life-or-death struggle with enemies who would end me without a second thought. As Pawnee as I was, as confident a hunter as I had become, I wasn't sure I would be a good warrior if killing was part of it.

Giving counsel to Running Horse was far beyond my comprehension. Why wasn't Lit'l Fox sitting at Running Horse's right hand? He was Pawnee through and through. I was new to all of this. I wasn't sure I could do what Running Horse decided I needed to do, once he was Chief Running Horse.

I was a good hunter, and I began to live for the hunt if not for the cold.

The feast was what was on our mind as we endured the cold and went out to hunt each morning, as quickly as there was light enough for us to see where we were going. It wouldn't do to trip over a branch and fall down and break a leg.

I brought back an arm full of wood, piling it at the corner of the campsite where the other wood waited to go to the firepit. We each picked up wood to carry back to camp if we didn't have meat in our arms. Having a big fire to warm us once we came in from the hunt was almost as nice as the feasting.

The second day, Running Horse was back and everyone had rabbit meat on a stick, which we would cook and take with us on today's hunt. What we didn't eat while walking, we'd save for later while waiting for game. We kept it wrapped in flat bread where it stayed safe until we couldn't put off eating it any longer.

The night before, the fire had been built up to cook. It would burn for much of the night. The first boy to get cold, got up to pile more wood on it, and it would still be burning by the time dawn was upon us.

With Running Horse in the buffalo robe with me, I was never cold at night. He was usually the last Indian who went to his bed, and he was the first to get out of it, unless I held on to him tightly, and that didn't last long.

The camp was a happy camp. On the first night, Young Antelope and Turtle entertained us. It was Turtle's first hunt on the mountain, but he came with self-confidence enough to stand in front of us and joke about himself and the hunting. Young Antelope remembered all the Pawnee songs, and we sang about the hunt the way it had been done since time began.

With some rabbits that grew fat over the summer, and a pheasant Running Horse shot as we flushed it out of the brush. We were always pleased to have a different meat, and on each hunt, we got something unusual to munch on.

It was this autumn's hunt, and once again Young Antelope and Turtle sang and told tales. While filling our bellies with hot meat, we laughed and got a kick out of how well these two worked together. Once Turtle got his first hunting trip under him, he was a regular. He was a good shot and he made up stories to go with the meal. This had to be a Pawnee tradition that went back ages.

Most of the boys were nearly grown by the autumn before I would turn twenty. I think it was twenty. I lost track of time. I thought I could remember year to year, as hunts came and went. Each hunt was so typical of every other hunt, I lost track of when I went on my first hunt, and which hunt was the last hunt. I always knew whether it was the spring or autumn hunt.

The newcomers often had little or nothing to say. Turtle immediately found his place among the hunters. He was particularly close to Young Antelope, who often took the newest hunters under his wing to make them feel more at home.