Page 9 of Red Hawk's Woman

She let out her breath. It was a good way to start the day, and as she stripped off her dress, her petticoats and chemise, throwing them to the side, peace filled her soul. She left her square-toed boots on her feet so her tender toes need not tread on any sharp rocks. Her pantalettes also remained in place, since she couldn’t bring herself to strip to bare skin from the waist down. Her drawers were green, not white, as a woman’s pantalettes might be. Green, because her mother had made them from the canvas-like material of an old tent.

At last Effie was ready to swim, and unafraid, she waded into the water.

In truth, there was little need for fear. The swimming hole was close to her parents’ dig, well within earshot were there to be any trouble. And Effie was an experienced swimmer, her parents having schooled her in the techniques of lifesaving when she was so young she could barely crawl. Thus, Effie felt safe and quite exuberant.

The water was only ankle deep at the shoreline, but it was cool and refreshing, as she had known it would be. Soon, Effie plunged into the water completely, wetting herself from the top of her very red head to the bottom of her heavy, wet boots. Surfacing, she grinned.

What pleasure!

As Red Hawk trod a path to the water, a few rays of golden sunlight pushed their way through the fog. In response, the ground came alive, welcoming the warmth of those beams. Here, and as far as the eye could see, the lush, green earth was covered with a misty haze. Mother Earth was awakening.

The early morning scents of grass and pine were bursting with aroma, sweetening the atmosphere. The terrain was solid and firm beneath Red Hawk’s feet, and the air enveloped the boy in a cool embrace. But Red Hawk barely noticed the earth and all her scents and secrets, so inward was his attention.

As it was, he was confused.

This was to be his last day in camp. On the morrow, he would awaken, never to see Grandfather or any of the people again, unless he were successful in lifting the curse, which might be many years in the future. Though Red Hawk had often wished for this very opportunity, the reality of it was more than he could easily assimilate.

He would have eighteen years in which to break the curse. Surely, he could accomplish this. To his young mind, it seemed like a great deal of time had been allotted him.

However, if that were true, why was the spell proving to be so hard for others to break? So many champions before him; so many failures.

Would he be successful? He certainly hoped he would be, although without even starting his mission, he was disadvantaged. Alas, if given a choice between breaking the curse or seeking the revenge that was so rightfully his to take, what would he do?

If he were to be honest with himself, Red Hawk would admit he was unable to answer that question. It was this fact, all by itself, that worried him, for he had given his word to White Claw to forego seeking revenge on the Thunderer.

But perhaps he would never be required to make the choice, in which case such meditation was foolish.

“Remember Grandfather in all things,” he muttered to himself. “Remember Grandfather.”

And so it was that Red Hawk was grumbling when he saw her.

There, sitting on a rock at the edge of the pool, was the most unusual but perhaps the most beautiful creature he had ever witnessed. He stared. Was she a vision?

She could be, for he was unable to see the girl as well as he might. The ever-present mist that swirled around her made her appear dreamlike. Yet, for some unknown reason, he felt certain she was real.

Was she part fish?

No, she must be human. She looked human…well, at least she did from the waist up. But she was certainly like no other being he had ever seen. For one thing, her hair was a dark shade of red, not black or brown, and the locks of her mane were curling about her head in cascading spirals. Her skin color was a shade or two whiter than that to which he was accustomed, but not enough to draw a great deal of notice.

From her waist upward, she wore nothing, but this seemed a usual sort of happenstance. Most of the children in the village ran naked, and she was a child, he determined, since from his view of her she had thus far developed nothing that due to modesty must be hidden.

But…did she have legs?

Red Hawk couldn’t be certain. From the waist downward, it appeared she no longer grew skin. All he could see from there was green. Surely most forms of human beings were not green on the bottom, were they?

Was she a white person? Had there not been rumors in the tribe about such people? Stories that the tribal medicine man, White Claw, had seen such people and had talked to them? Were white people half fish?

Slowly, as silently as he could, Red Hawk crept toward the girl and was almost upon her when she moved, stretching. Her hands came up to push back her hair, as though she were combing it with her fingers.

Without warning, she turned toward him. Her eyes were big, a light shade of brown, and she stared straight at him.

He froze.

She grinned.

What happened then Red Hawk could never explain, nor did he ever wish to. One moment he was on his feet, the next he was tripping all over himself. Suddenly he was all hands and legs, and they seemed to be going in all directions at once. The result of course was that he landed on the ground none too delicately, and quite on his rump.

“Hello,” she said, when things had settled down. “Who are you?”