Daughter of the Eagle by Don Coldsmith Page A

raiders.
    Black Fox, not yet even able to enter the conflict, pushed forward in frustration. Before his eyes his novice warriors began to panic. The rout became contagious, and in a moment the entire raiding party was in full flight, except for the handful lying dead or dying around Crazy Woman and her companion.
    For a moment Black Fox considered a charge at the two, but he reconsidered. He had not survived to his present status by being foolhardy. He and his warriors, by this time in full flight, were now outnumbered. In addition, there was much he did not understand about this situation.
    Why, for instance, had the Elk-dog warriors followed
Crazy Woman in her unorthodox charge? True, he had now seen her at close range and had observed that this was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
    Yet among his own people that should have been all the more reason to keep her close to the lodge. Black Fox was sure that a night in his bed would break her spirit and make her forget such foolishness as going on war parties. Women of his tribe would never be allowed such activities.
    And what of her tall companion, he of the bay stallion? What was his part in this?
    Reluctantly Black Fox turned away. He must, to save his own skin. He cast one last look at the beautiful warrior woman and the tall man at her side.
    He would remember those two.

20
    When Running Eagle sprang forward in the spectacular charge that resulted in a rout, she had no such idea in mind. Rather it was because of her inexperience. In her naivete she assumed that when one sees and identifies the quarry that it is proper to attack.
    So while others were preparing weapons, waiting for the chiefs to start a parley, she initiated her charge. She was enraged that a member of the raiding party boldly rode Owl Dung, her brother’s horse. Her rage, however, did not affect her judgment. Many times she had heard her grandfather speak of tactics in battle.
    â€œStrike the enemy’s leader first,” Heads Off counseled. “Then the others are without leadership.”
    With this thought in the back of her mind, Running Eagle charged straight at the burly warrior near the center of the line who appeared to be the enemy leader. The horse thief riding Owl Dung would be second. Not until she had loosed her first arrow and observed the man’s sliding collapse did she realize that she was virtually alone. Only Long Walker had followed her closely. He was thrusting
savagely with his lance, effectively striking the circling warriors around them.
    Running Eagle was still puzzled. Where were Standing Bird and the other Elk-dog warriors? She had little time to wonder, as she loosed her second arrow at the man on her brother’s horse.
    It was not until after she had abandoned her bow in favor of the war club that Standing Bird’s warriors struck. In a moment the Head Splitters were running in panic, leaving their dead and wounded behind.
    There was one disquieting encounter. As the enemy retreated, one tall young chief seemed reluctant to leave. Running Eagle thought the man was about to charge and readied herself for the clash. Instead the other looked long and hard at her, then turned his horse abruptly to ride away. She had an odd premonition about this man, a feeling that they would meet again.
    Now some Elk-dog warriors of Standing Bird were milling around, shouting the war cry. Some pursued the fleeing Head Splitters a short distance; others began to gather the excited horse herd. Long Walker reined in beside her. His presence was comforting, as the excitement of the conflict began to be replaced by the weak-kneed realization of what had happened.
    â€œAiee! Did you intend to fight them all, by yourself?”
    Long Walker’s face was still flushed with victory, his eyes flashing and his smile broad and companionable. Both knew that they had fought well together, and the feeling was good.
    But now Running Eagle began to realize that she had