The Changing Wind Read Online Free Page B

small girl escaped and made her way home a few days later, but Redwing, sister of Bull Roarer, was never seen again.

5

    I t had been seven winters now since the attack by the Head Splitters, and there had been no further trouble. As usual, they had encountered traveling bands of the enemy each season. There was no direct reference to the incident, beyond the smug demeanor of the Head Splitters.
    Of course, the band they encountered that next summer may not have been the same band that carried out the attack. One Head Splitter looks much like another. Still, both Small Elk and Crow felt that they recognized one of the subchiefs who came forward to talk.
    “That is the one!” Crow whispered. “The one who was about to shoot Bull Roarer.”
    “I think so too,” Small Elk agreed, “but they all look alike. What do you think, Bull?”
    “How would I know?” Bull Roarer asked, a trifle peevishly. “I was lying in the water below.”
    If the man recognized them, he gave no sign, but it was hard to forget the threat that day at the cliff The Head I Splitter had promised to return.
    The stolen children were not seen, at this or any later encounter. It was assumed that they would be hidden, silent under threat of death if they made their presence known. Or, someone suggested, maybe they had been traded to some other band. Even some other tribe. Bull Roarer’s mother had mourned the loss of her daughter, as if Redwing had died in the attack, and then resumed her usual activities. Life was hard, and losses were to be expected. The period of mourning allowed relief from the pressure of grief, and life went on.
    Those events seemed long ago now. The seasons had passed, and the children grew. Bull Roarer’s leg had healed, and in a few moons, he could walk again. But hewould never walk properly. The leg was too short by nearly a hand’s width. The boy walked with an odd rolling gait.
    “Will it grow like the other?” he had asked White Buffalo.
    “No,” the medicine man answered. “It will always be different. But you are alive, and you can walk. Does it hurt?”
    “No,” Bull Roarer admitted, “but I am very slow.”
    “It was a very bad break.”
    It was difficult for the active youngster. Formerly one of the best, he could no longer compete in many of the games and contests. In such things as swimming he could still excel, but out of the water, his ability was limited. In time, even his swimming skills began to suffer. There was no way to keep his muscles in condition. He tried to remain cheerful, but it was difficult.
    His problem had become even more apparent since the other boys had begun to hunt. Bull Roarer had participated in a few hunts, short forays near camp, carefully supervised by an older warrior. No one said anything, but it was not necessary. All could see that Bull Roarer could not keep up with the group. It was equally apparent that they could not wait for him while their quarry escaped. No, Bull Roarer would be unable to participate in the hunt.
    It was even more frustrating for him because he was an excellent shot with the bow. But what good was that if he could not place himself in a spot from which to shoot? Often, he cried privately. He could hunt small game, of course, but one does not support a family on rabbits and squirrels. Neither can a lodge be made from rabbitskins. Bull Roarer feared that he was doomed to a life of poverty, unable to find a wife who would consent to share such a fate. He would always be dependent on the charity of those more fortunate, and when times were hard… He shuddered to think that in lean years, when the hunt had been less than successful, the Moon of Hunger took on an even more ominous meaning.
    Supplies always ran low in the time just before the Moon of Awakening, when the earth began to green again. In the best of years, it was a time of hunger. In the worst, it became, instead, the Moon of Starvation. Some would not survive. Bull Roarer was aware that