no interpreter to know that the people clustered along the bank were talking about her, exclaiming over her red hair and pale skin. She held her head high, battling the urge to hide her head beneath her ragged skirts.
Wolf Heart and his pockmarked friend had paddled the canoe in a half circle, rotating it so that when the small craft touched land, Wolf Heart was able to leap out and pull it onto the beach. Clarissa, now in the rear, turned to meet his stony gaze. His head jerked toward the village, an indication, she guessed, that she was to climb out of the canoe and follow him.
Only when she tried to stand did she realize how weak she was. Dark blotches swam before her eyes. Her cramped legs threatened to buckle beneath her—and would have, perhaps, if the pockmarked brave had not caught her arm. She allowed him to steady her as she climbed over the edge of the canoe and stumbled on to the sand. His leathery hand released her cautiously. His curious eyes followed her as she lifted her head and, summoning the last of her strength, tottered up the slope on her blistered, swollen feet.
The Shawnee people were all around her now. Inquisitive fingers caught her hair, tugged her skirts and poked at her strange white skin. Panic tightened its stranglehold around Clarissa’s rib cage. She fought back a scream as one wrinkled crone seized a handful of her hair, yanking so hard that Clarissa feared she was about to be scalped.
Terror exploded in her. She spun wildly, flailing at the groping hands and peering faces. She wanted only to get away, to breathe, but they were clawing at her limbs now, their sheer numbers dragging her down. She felt herself stumbling, falling.
“Wolf Heart!” The cry tore from her fear-strangled throat. “Wolf Heart!”
Suddenly he was there beside her, his arm catching her waist, lifting her as she went down. Clarissa heard his voice speaking quietly but firmly in Shawnee. The people were listening. They were backing away, clearing a path.
She sagged against his shoulder, trembling as they moved forward together. “It’s all right,” he muttered, leaning close to her ear. “They won’t hurt you. They’re only curious.”
“What’s going to happen to me?” She gripped his arm, her broken fingernails pressing anxiously into his flesh.
“That’s for the council to decide.”
“And when will they do that?”
“Tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” He spoke tersely, his voice revealing no trace of emotion. “You’re to be given food. Eat it all. Rest tonight while you have the chance.”
“And tomorrow?” She swung back to face him, ignoring the pressing crowd as she forced him to meet her gaze. “Tell me! What happens then?”
Something flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her, then his gaze hardened. “It is forbidden to speak of it,” he said. “You will know when the time comes.”
Clarissa’s taut nerves frayed and snapped. “You insolent savage!” she hissed with a fury she had not known she possessed. Her hand went up, and she would have struck him if he had not seized her wrist. Fury blazed in the depths of his cold blue eyes.
“Never do that again,” he whispered, his voice a menacing rasp. “Now turn around and walk—unless you’d rather be tied up and dragged!”
Stunned by his ferocity, Clarissa did as she was told. Anger fueled her strength as she stalked up the slope of the bank toward the village. She felt his looming presence behind her, sensed it in the parting of the crowd. Wolf Heart was clearly a respected man in this savage place. But it was equally clear that he would never use his influence to save her. From this point on, she could depend on no one but herself.
The sounds, sights and smells of the village were all around her. The acrid scent of wood smoke blended with the savory aroma of simmering beans, corn, squash and wild onion. A wolflike yellow dog sniffed at Clarissa’s leg, then backed away, growling at her alien scent. From inside one of the long bark lodges, a woman’s voice was crooning what might have been a lullaby.
People seemed to be everywhere—working, eating, resting or simply staring at her in undisguised fascination. The younger children, many of them naked, cavorted around her unafraid, their soft black eyes dancing with excitement. Even the women were lightly dressed, some in long fringed buckskin chemises, others in nothing but beads and short leather aprons. From somewhere beyond the clustered lodges came the nicker of a horse.
“Here.” Wolf Heart stopped before a small barkcovered hut. There were several of these, clustered close together in the shadow of the spacious log building she had seen from the river. “For prisoners,” he explained curtly. “This one is yours.”
She stared at him.
“Go inside,” he continued as if he were talking to a backward child. “You’ll be safe as long as you don’t try to leave.”
“And if I do try?” Clarissa feigned a bravado she did not feel.
“You’ll be caught. Your feet and hands will be lashed together behind your back and you’ll be forced to lie that way all night.” His expression softened, but only for the space of a heartbeat. “Do you want to live, Clarissa?”
Her exhausted body had begun to shake. Her legs quivered beneath her, threatening to buckle. She battled the need to sink against him, to draw strength from his broad, hard chest. “Yes,” she whispered, trembling, “I want to live.”
“Then you must do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Is that clear?”
She stared up into his face, only half-aware of the Shawnee milling around them. Her lips tightened as she swallowed and nodded.
Wolf Heart exhaled raggedly. The fading light cast his features into sharp relief, making them look as if they’d been hacked from rough stone. “Go into the hut,” he said. “Eat the food you’ll be given. Then try to sleep.” His eyes narrowed. “No matter what happens, whatever you hear—or think you hear—stay inside and don’t look out. Do you understand?”
Clarissa barely had time to nod again before he shoved her through the low entrance and dropped the deerskin flap behind her. Terror clutched at her as she stumbled into the darkness. She had been fighting fear all day. Now that she was alone, danger and despair finally came crashing in on her.
Clutching her knees like a frightened child, she crouched in the center of the small space, fearful of what might be lurking in the deeper shadows. Her shoulders shook. Her throat jerked in spasms of tearless weeping.
Time passed, how much time Clarissa could not be sure, but all at once she was startled into full alertness by the rustle of the hide that covered the hut’s entrance. Firelight glimmered through the narrow opening, silhouetting a low figure that had come inside and was moving toward her.
“Wolf Heart?” The words strangled in her throat. This was not Wolf Heart. It was not anyone she knew.
Clarissa shrank into the darkness, muscles tensed to spring at the first sign of attack. “Don’t come any closer!” she hissed at the hunched, shaggy-looking form that was edging toward her. Her broken fingernails clawed at the hut’s earthen floor, scraping out
