Farewells

Kohana leads Ehawee back to his teepee, away from Magaskawee. "There's water there, if you need it," he says, as he points to gourds just inside the teepee.

Ehawee has him sit, then begins to remove the dressing on his cuts, being as gentle as possible. Kohana closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches a few times as the dressing sticks, but she is able to ease it away from his skin with the water. Soon, the four ugly gashes are revealed, and Ehawee realizes she narrowly missed putting his eye out. Looking rather pained, she forces herself to look hard at the damage she did, as a reminder of the consequences of losing her temper. Then she uses some more of the water to ensure that the gashes are clean, trying to avoid causing Kohana too much pain, and begins applying the paste.

Kohana doesn't relax until the cleaning is over with, then sighs when she starts applying the paste. "That does feel good," he says.

Ehawee looks relieved. "Magaskawee taught me how to make it. It should remove much of the pain." She frowns as she continues smoothing the paste over his wounds. "I wish I could go with you. It will be harder for you to apply this to yourself."

"After we are married, you can. I don't think it would be right before," he says. "Not that I don't want you to come, but if you did, I don't think I'd be concentrating on the traps."

She blushes a bit, but looks pleased. "I know it wouldn't be right. I just wish it was. Two days seems like a very long time, right now."

"I could leave you my mending," he says with half a grin.

She laughs. "No, no, I'm supposed to be meditating on my place in the circle of life, remember?"

"I'm sure sewing would help that," he says in a mock serious tone.

"Somehow, I don't think it will," she insists, her eyes dancing. She finishes smoothing the paste over the last of his wounds, then looks the area over to make sure she hasn't missed anything. "There, all finished."

"Thank you," he says, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyes linger over her for a long time before he lets her go. "And now I must go, or I won't be able to leave and I won't have the skins for your father."

She nods, obviously reluctant to let him go, and hands him the basket gourd containing the rest of the paste. "Hurry back." She takes another long look at his face and then she kisses him, before she loses her nerve.

His free arm slips around her waist, preventing her from escaping easily, and he lingers over the kiss as well. "That's not helping," he finally says.

She stops reluctantly, but doesn't move away from him. "Do you want me to stop?"

He looks pained. "No, but we must. We must wait until after the sweat lodge. I will think of you while I'm gone," he says.

Kohana takes one more kiss, then lets her go and turns away to gather his gear. Ehawee watches him do so, staying out of his way but not leaving until he does, trying to hide how much she wishes he didn't have to leave. Or that she could go with him. When he is ready, he hops up on his pony and looks down at her. "I'll be back in two days," he says. "Then we can be together." Then he spurs his pony quickly away.

After Kohana departs, Ehawee busies herself with her chores, in an effort to keep too busy for the time to drag at her. Every now and then, though, she gets an absent look on her face and stares off into space for a time, remembering again what it felt like to have Kohana's arms around her, and what it felt like to kiss him. She tries to spend some time in contemplation, riding off the next morning on her pony to be alone for a while. She finds a nice, quiet spot, closes her eyes, and sits in the sun for several hours, trying to figure out how she fits into things now. She finds no easy answers.

On the trip back, Ehawee comes across a rabbit, and quickly brings it down with her bow. As she rides back into camp, the gutted rabbit at her thigh, she notices Maka making the sign to ward off evil, and then quickly heading into her teepee. Ehawee wonders if this is because Maka has heard of the marriage, or because of what happened at the river. She decides it's not all that important.

Ehawee rides back to her father's teepee, brushes down the pony and sees her settled, then begins preparing the rabbit. Shortly after the rabbit is skinned and spitted, Takoda shows up. "Eh, rabbit for lunch today?" he says with a grin.

Ehawee grins back. "Funny how you disappear until you smell the food cooking."

He shrugs. "More like I noticed you were back. Out getting ready for tomorrow?" he says, as he sits down next to the fire.

She nods. "I thought being alone would help me focus. No great revelations, though. That's what tomorrow is for, I guess."

He gets a devilish look, but says nothing.

She raises an eyebrow and gives him her full attention. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

"Nothing at all," he says, stretching out on the grass and using his arm to shield his eyes from the sun.

"I don't believe you," she says, then reaches over to tickle his exposed stomach. "Tell me."

He grunts. "You know that hasn't worked in years," he says, in response to her needling.

"Ehawee," she hears her father say behind her. "The food smells good. Will there be flatbread with the rabbit?" he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Ehawee gives up on Takoda and smiles at her father. "There could be."

Ehawee checks the rabbit to make sure it's cooking evenly, and begins working on the bread. She adds water to the ground meal until it is the right consistency, then pours the rounds out on a hot stone next to the fire. Soon the smell of baking bread is added to the rabbit, and her own stomach growls. She continues to turn the rabbit and watch the bread, so that nothing burns until everything is done. Takoda stays stretched out on the grass until the meal is ready.

Both Takoda and Akecheta seem to particularly savor Ehawee's cooking this day, and are unusually quiet. Ehawee is silent as well, feeling melancholy about the fact that it's one of the last meals that she'll cook for them. She eats her food almost mechanically, watching the two men who have been such an important part of her life so far and thinking how strange it will be not to have them around all the time.

At the end of the meal, Ehawee's father and brother compliment the food and thank her, then go about their afternoon activities. Ehawee does the same, trying to get as much of the washing and mending done as possible, to make the transition easier when she leaves. And because of this, her afternoon simply flies. Soon the sun is hanging low along the horizon and she begins preparing dinner. This meal is harder for her than the last, as it's the last one she'll cook for her father and brother, and she won't be able to eat it. Her fast begins with the setting sun and ends the following day, after the sweat lodge. Knowing this, she is careful to eat something before sundown.

Ehawee does her best to make the best meal she's ever cooked, trying to include items that are favored by her father and brother. They notice her efforts and the meal is a quiet one, save for compliments for the food. After the meal, and before her father retires, he places his hand on Ehawee's cheek. "I am very proud of you daughter," he states, his expression a mix of happy and sad.

His words obviously please her, although there is a sadness in her eyes as well. "I hope I never give you cause to feel otherwise, Father."

"I'm sure you won't," he says and heads to his sleeproll.

Ehawee cleans everything up from the meal, makes sure everything looks tidy, then crawls into her own sleeproll. She lies awake for quite a while before sleep claims her, staring up at the top of the teepee, her mind full of excitement about the coming day.

"Deadwood"
Ehawee's Page | Ehawee's Story

All text on this page is © 2000 by Kris Fazzari.

Last modified on December 31, 2000 by Kris Fazzari.