Savage Betrayal Read Online Free Page A

a man more exalted than the last. Maybe that’s what Thunder Maker’s doing. You should be flattered he thinks so highly of you, cousin,” smirked Birdwhistle.
    Fighting Wolf frowned. “I’d prefer a virgin.” Then he added lightly, “Perhaps she’s just an uncontrollable nag.”
    “Or missing a few front teeth.” Birdwhistle chuckled at Fighting Wolf’s mounting dismay.
    With great enthusiasm, Birdwhistle launched into an eloquent, unflattering description of Fighting Wolf’s bride-to-be. How pleasant to goad the younger man.
    At last Fighting Wolf wearied of the game. “Cousin,” he said, “if she’s as bad as you think she is, I promise I’ll give her to you…as a symbol of my esteem.” He snickered.
    Birdwhistle eyed him warily. “No, no, I insist you keep her. After all, it was your idea to get ‘married!’"
    Fighting Wolf laughed, and clapped his cousin hard on the back as they shared the private joke. “Ah yes. Married.”
    * * * *
    Fighting Wolf walked through the village. The afternoon sun slanted through the clouds and illuminated the Ahousat village longhouses that stood so proudly.
    A longhouse was as wide as seven men laying head to toe and twice that distance in length. The height of the house was equal to two tall men. A frame of long cedar ridge poles ran the length of each side, and was supported by sturdy posts at the four corners. Two stout posts framed the main entrance.
    A carved sea lion figure-post stood at the back of the house. Poles as high as two men, and carved in human design, supported the central beam. Long cedar planks made up the siding of the house, and a gabled roof of rafters, covered by cedar planks, kept the inhabitants dry through the long, rainy winters.
    From inside the house, smoke holes were made by shoving roof planks back with poles. During winter storms, large stones and logs anchored the roof and kept its cedar plank covering from blowing away. At various places along the back side of the house were small doors—escape hatches should enemy raiders come sweeping into the village.
    As he neared one of the longhouses, Fighting Wolf heard his name called. There, leaning in the doorway, stood Limpet. She took her name from the small, pointed-shelled sea animals that clung firmly to rocks at the tideline. Limpet was a woman who, it seemed to Fighting Wolf, had dedicated her life to making herself his mistress.
    Crooking a finger at him, she gave him a lazy look over one shoulder as she sauntered seductively into her longhouse. Grinning to himself, Fighting Wolf watched her full hips sway against her tight robe, slightly torn at the hem. He took his time following her into the darkened building.
    Within the house, along the inside walls, each of the several resident families had their own cooking fire and sleeping benches. Often, planks or cedar chests filled with the family’s belongings were piled high to mark off each separate apartment. The highest ranking chief in the house lived in the right rear corner with his wives, children and slaves. The next ranking chief lived in the left corner and lower ranking chiefs, or nobles, and their families occupied the remaining two corners. Along the sides, or middle of the house, lived commoners and their families, usually relatives of the ranking chief.
    Smoke from the many fire pits hovered in the interior of the long building. Rows of smoked fish hung from the rafters. The smoky aroma mingled with the rancid smell of oil-filled fish bladders, but the strong odor went unnoticed by the inhabitants.
    Inside the longhouse, Fighting Wolf went to the middle section, Limpet’s living area. He noted the haphazardly piled cedar boxes that marked the boundaries of her apartment. Torn and ragged cedar mats hung against the walls, ostensibly to provide decoration. Instead, they added to the air of impoverished tackiness.
    Moth-eaten furs clung desperately to the wooden plank bed perched precariously one hand span above the dirt