People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear Page B

his eyes. I watched from the trees when he was given his warrior’s mantle last year and took his war name. No young man has ever become such a praised war leader at so young an age. He has dealt the Sky Hand People a terrible blow, burned the corn in Alligator Village, and taken the chief there captive along with his family. In a couple of years, Amber … Screaming Falcon Mankiller will topple their mighty walls onto their filthy heads.” She snorted derisively. “And we will deal with the Chikosi’s hand-licking Albaamaha slaves, too.”
    Old Woman Fox gave her a sober look. “I wouldn’t underrate the Sky Hand People.”
    “Oh?”
    “We are all Mos’kogee. It hasn’t been that long since their Ancestors and ours lived under the mantle of Cahokia. Like us, they, too, came to this country, subjected the people they found, and built a nation. Screaming Falcon Mankiller’s great raid will bring a response. And it will come soon,” Old Woman Fox said softly. “Like us, they do not forget the ghosts of their slain. They know that the dead will never rest until their blood has been avenged.”
    Morning Dew arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “My man will repulse them. They’ll run back east to their walled city, wailing and crying through the forest-covered hills. And then they’ll quake in fear, knowing that Screaming Falcon will be coming after them.” She paused. “Especially that putrid worm Smoke Shield. Remember how he watched me? He couldn’t keep the drool from running down his ugly chin.”
    Old Woman Fox pursed her thin brown lips, the lines in her face deepening.
    “What?” Morning Dew asked. “Put in words the disapproval I see in your face.”
    “First you complain of being nothing more than a walking womb. Then you spout silly nonsense. You are smarter than that, Morning Dew. But if you’re not, well,
at least you have that wonderful sheath. Let us hope that Screaming Falcon Mankiller’s seed fills it with many children so that our clan is at least replenished.”
    “You don’t think Screaming Falcon will be great?”
    Old Woman Fox pulled at her grizzled white hair, speculative gaze boring into Morning Dew’s eyes. “I think he will unleash the winds, girl. But I am not sure he can deflect them. If the winds blow us away, what then? If it falls to you, how will you save our people?”
    “It won’t come to that,” Morning Dew replied saucily. “Seriously, Grandmother, could the Sky Hand People have anyone who could compare in war with Screaming Falcon and our White Arrow warriors? Surely not that scar-faced Smoke Shield, with all his superior strutting.”
    Old Woman Fox continued to watch her for several heartbeats. “Humor me. How would you save our people?”
    Morning Dew snorted, giving her grandmother a condescending stare.
    In a toneless voice, Old Woman Fox said, “That’s what I thought.”
    Morning Dew glowered. “You’ll see, Grandmother. A new day is coming to our people. My man is going to make sure of it. And if he doesn’t, I will.”
    “Ah.” Her eyes narrowed. “So you will accept responsibility for your people, no matter what?”
    “On my blood.” Morning Dew crossed her arms, absolutely justified in taking her people’s most binding oath.
    A cynical disbelief formed behind Old Woman Fox’s eyes.
     
     
    H is full name was Flying Hawk Who Calls the Morning Mankiller, but his title was simply high minko, or hereditary ruler of the Sky Hand Mos’kogee. Age had settled into his skin, bones, and muscles, leaving its
legacy in wrinkles, aching joints, and sapped abilities. His mind, however, remained keen behind a knowing brown gaze. As a young man he had been tattooed with forked eyes that mimicked a peregrine falcon’s, and a wide red bar across his nose and cheeks indicated his clan status. Tattoos, he had discovered, never looked as striking in sagging old age as they did on fresh young skin. In contrast he made sure that the copper ear spools that filled