Her father, who'd been banking the fire in the hearth, looked over his shoulder as he replied. "Told her she could sleep in the barn tonight."

Kathleen's immediate feeling was one of denial. To not have her warrior close in her sleep would be difficult. She eyed her parents and brother who were blissfully ignorant and the words of rebellion dried up in her throat. It's only for tonight, la.s.s. They don't know and ye haven't told them... Tomorrow...

The older woman swept her daughter up into a hug, kissing her cheek lightly. "It's good to have ye home, Kathleen," she murmured. "Good night."

Distracted, the blonde smiled and returned the kiss, her arms still holding Teca. "It's good to be home, mum... I've missed ye all so much." Tears stung her eyes though they didn't overflow.

Tears were in other eyes, as well, eyes that were dark and stormy with loss. Ketlin is home. Her home is not with me. Anpo turned away from the window and trudged back out to the yard, her shoulders sagging. When she comes to sleep, I will speak with her on this matter.

Kathleen rose early, as was her habit. The sky was still a dark grey, hardly visible through the cracks of the shutters that covered the window. With slow, gentle movements, she eased away from Teca and covered him with the blanket.

It had been a long and exhausting night. The combination of a stuffy interior, a strange bed and nightmares had made it difficult to sleep. That her warrior wasn't with her certainly hadn't helped matters any. It was only the one night, la.s.s, the blonde consoled herself as she slipped her leather dress over her head.

Deciding that the toddler would still be asleep for a bit, she made her way to the top of the ladder. Peering past the hastily created divider - a sheet hanging from a rope - she found Stewart's bed unoccupied. Must be already up and about then. Kathleen quietly made her way down the steps.

She stepped out onto the porch, slowly closing the heavy wooden door so as not to disturb her parents sleeping nearby. Inhaling the cool morning air, the blonde stretched before relaxing to look about.

The sky was getting lighter and the yard was awash with several shades of grey. A chicken could be heard clucking nearby, the stamp of a horse echoing from the barn. Kathleen wondered if her warrior was awake yet and stepped off the porch. Hmmm.... Time for a cuddle, la.s.s.

A flash of Anpo's confused face drifted across her vision before she banished it. Aye. Ye've gotta explain what happened yesterday! She shook her head ruefully. Why did it not occur to me that I'd have to clarify Anpo's presence with my family? I guess I just wasn't thinkin' too well last night.

With memories of the reunion playing in her mind, Kathleen approached the barn, a small smile on her face. The door was ajar and she slid inside without disturbing it. The warmth drifted over the blonde as she stood still for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darker interior.

One of the ponies nickered and the woman moved towards it, the smile still on her face as she recognized her own mount. Movement in the stall further on caught her eye as she held her hand out to the spotted mare, getting a welcome nuzzle in response.

"Stewart?"

A blond head popped up from the other side of Teca's pony. "Morning, sis!" her brother said.

Kathleen continued forward, a curious grin on her face. "What are you doing in there?"

As her sibling came into full view, he shrugged sheepishly and stepped forward to lean against the wooden railing. Stewart held up his hands, both adorned with brushes. "Just thought I'd have a look at yer horses. They're pretty dirty," he added, turning to look back at the yearling. "Don't those people know how to take care of 'em?"

Not liking his tone with "those people," Kathleen's smile faltered. "It's a completely different way of life, Stew. And the horses get quite a bit of attention." She shrugged as well. "And the Lakota don't have horsebrushes."

"Nor shoes, by the looks of it," Stewart agreed, heedless of the cultural lesson. He reached out and patted the grey on his neck. "Gotta admit, though, this fellah's a pretty healthy one. How long ye had him?"

The blonde looked away, distracted. "Just over a year. Anpo caught him for Teca." Scanning the barn, she asked, "Where is she? I don't see her pony."

"Pony!" Stewart exclaimed, turning around again. "That red b.u.g.g.e.r was huge! Hardly a 'pony'!"

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "Ye know what I mean, ye brat." Her eyes searching the interior again, she continued, "No, really.... Where's Anpo?"

The young man turned back to the grey yearling. "Already left."

The blonde felt the world fall out from under her and she caught the stall to remain on her feet. "Wh... wh... what!?"

Unaware of his sister's anxiety, Stewart's attention remained on the horse. "She was all packed up when I got in here." Taking the brushes, he began to vigorously move them across the grey hide. "I offered some supplies, but she turned me down. Honestly, sis, after she left I had a look around. I don't think she slept last night. At least she didn't look it this morning. She gave me something for ye, though."

She left me...? Kathleen shook her head, trying to rid it of the numbness that threatened her vision. She left me!! "Did she... Did she say anything?" she asked, surprised her voice didn't crack.

"Aye, she did." Her brother turned to look at her, his face becoming concerned. He hastily dropped the brushes and moved forward. "Kath? Ye okay? Ye look like ye've seen a ghost!"

With surprising strength, the blonde grabbed Stewart by the arm. "What did she say to you!? Exactly!"

Stewart winced a bit as fingers dug into the skin of his forearm. "Something about ye being happier here and yer home wasn't with her. She said she was throwin' ye away, but I took that to be her ignorance and not knowing the right words." His eyes widened as he watched his sister turn even whiter. "Sis?"

Kathleen's fingers released his arm and she turned to stumble towards the door. She barely made it outside before she fell to her hands and knees. Strong arms held her shoulder and she could hear her brother's voice from a distance. His words were indistinct, drowned out by her own thoughts.

She threw me away! Divorced me!! She thinks I want to stay here!! Oh my G.o.d! I should have come to her last night! I should have talked with her, slept with her, held her! How could she do this!?

Curling into a little ball, the blonde felt as if her head and chest and throat were going to explode. Great braying sobs racked her body and she trembled with their force. Something metallic was pressed into her hands and she found the tin whistle with its braided leather decorations.

Miles away and heading north, a reddish horse galloped at full speed, its rider barely keeping attention on the terrain. Dark eyes wept for the loss of a loved one, a heart closed away from the pain. Anpo was too far away to hear her winuhca's scream, too far away to feel its power.

"NO!!".

Chapter 11.

Mikiyela Ksto.

(mee-kee-yeh-lah ke-she-toh).

She Is Near Me.

1782.

Nupa Olowan smoked his pipe in silence as he watched the proceedings across the fire. It had warmed up considerably in the last moon and Wagmiza Wagna's camp was preparing to leave winter camp in the next few days. The warrior inhaled deeply of the smoke, worry on his mind.

His woman, Hca Wanahca , spoke in calming murmurs to her sister, brushing the unruly dark hair.

When Wi Ile Anpo's pony had stumbled into camp the previous moon, all had been surprised. To travel alone through the winter was unthinkable, stuff only legends were made of. The woman's health had reflected the hardships she'd put herself through - her clothes more rags than not, raven hair filthy and matted, cheeks gaunt from lack of food.

No one knew how Anpo had found their winter camp. No one knew what had happened to Kathleen and Teca. The winyan wouldn't speak. It was if her tongue had frozen in her mouth - no amount of gentle questioning or prodding could get an answer.

She is only half a person, came Nupa's grim thought, dark eyes stormy with concern.

The people spoke of the white woman and her child being dead and that Anpo was in mourning. But her hair was still long, her arms showing no signs of the cuts she would have inflicted upon herself in her lamentation. There was some confusion because of this - only winyan did these things in mourning, wicasa did not. The warrior was an enigma in that area, being neither wholly female or male. If something had happened to her family, would Anpo respond in the proper feminine manner?

When the winyan had awakened in her ina's lodge, she had immediately staggered out of her sleeping robes and stepped outside, robes in hand. Her feet took her to where Kathleen's ti ikceya would have been and she curled up on the cold, hard ground. Since that time, Hca and Waniyetu Gi had set the lodge as if the blonde woman were still present, and Anpo resided there.

The shaman, Inyan Ceye, had spent time with her and proclaimed she was haunted by her own demons. With food and love she would eventually fight through and return to them. All his visions attested to this.

And so, Nupa and his family spent their nights more often than not at Kathleen's ti ikceya, taking care of Anpo. The regular feeding had done her a world of good, the woman's skin no longer hanging on her bones. Her cuwe and ina repaired or replaced her clothing and kept her clean and warm. Wanbli Zi and Nupa sat with her in silence, emanating a quiet support.

Tapping the ashes out into the fire, Nupa stared into the flames. His woman's voice sang a low song to Yus'as'a , the baby asleep in her arms. Anpo's gaze was also on the dancing fire, her hair now neatly braided.

Movement caught the wicasa's eye and he looked up from the fire at his tanksi . He watched as she pulled the rawhide ties from her hair. Long fingers raked through the ebony locks, freeing them from the braids as she always did.

A thought came to Nupa's mind and he blinked in recognition. A warrior who wears his hair loose only means one thing. "You are willing to do desperate things, tanksi," he said, his voice low.

Hca's voice faded as she looked up at them, a slightly puzzled expression on her face. She let out a soft gasp as her mitan slowly nodded her head.

Heart in his throat at the response, Nupa leaned closer. His friend's dark eyes were still on the flames, but he could see them shining and tiny muscles in her face twitched as she tried to keep control. "Why?" he whispered.

There was a long silence, as there always seemed to be with Anpo. Nupa almost gave up, preparing to straighten a bit and continue his worrying. A sound stopped him.

With a voice that hadn't been used in months, the winyan croaked, "Mahasanni ki .".

Frozen, Hca and Nupa stared blankly at each other. Neither wanted to move or speak, to disrupt this first contact with the emotionally wounded warrior. Anpo said nothing further so the wicasa took a bracing breath.

"Why is she not with you?"

Another long silence that left Nupa thinking she wouldn't answer.

"Winuhcala is ashamed of me."

Nupa's brow furrowed, his mouth pulling down in a frown. Searching his mind for something to say, he finally spoke. "I do not understand, tanksi. Ketlin has always been proud of you. You are a great warrior and hunter for your family."

The tears finally spilled over and ran down Anpo's face, twin streaks of light reflecting from the fire. "Hiya , she is not proud of me," she said, her voice strengthening with conviction. "She is ashamed."

Unable to simply watch, Hca settled the baby down on some nearby furs and scooted closer, draping an arm about her sister's shoulder, her hand rubbing Anpo's upper arm. "Why do you say this, mitankala ?" she prodded gently.

"She would not speak to me, would not explain to her ate and ina that we were joined." Anpo's tears increased their pace. "Her ate thought I only brought her home to them. That we were not just visiting."

Hca's eyes narrowed at her stepan's strange behavior. "That makes no sense, Anpo," she murmured, shaking her head.

With a forlorn shrug, Anpo dropped her head. "I was left to sleep with the animals. She did not even come to speak to me, to sleep with me. I was not welcome in her parents' lodge."

"What happened to Ketlin and Teca, tanksi?" Nupa asked, his gaze intense on his friend.

A sob could be heard from the ma.s.s of dark hair that hung down. "Ketlin said she was happy to be home." The head shook. "She would not come to me. I threw her away," came the whisper.

As more sobs racked Anpo's body, her sister cuddled her close and the warrior allowed it, crying onto Hca's shoulder as a small child.

"I will get your ina," Nupa said to his woman and rising to his feet. At Hca's nod, he left the fire, striding towards the fire of Wanbli.

How could Ketlin do this to her? was the angry thought that repeated itself in his head.

Kathleen's sleep was shattered by a piercing scream. As she floundered awake, the grumblings of her brother could be heard nearby. Instinctively, the blonde reached for Teca, even as he screamed again.

With practiced movements, she pulled the rigid little body into her arms and began rocking and singing in an effort to dispel the nightmare. The toddler fought her off, his screams fading to loud crying as he chattered in Lakota.

"Hiya! Hiya, go 'way!" Teca battled his imaginary attacker, scoring a fist to his mother's temple before she could pin his arms.

Kathleen didn't quite see stars and it amazed her again how strong her son was. She continued to rock and sing, holding the toddler as still as she was able while he cried out.

The divider in the loft was tweaked to one side and Stewart eyeballed the pair, his face haggard. "What's he sayin'?" he grumbled. He received a glare in response and held up his hands in surrender. "Alright! I won't interrupt ye at work!" The young man pulled the divider back into place.

More sounds of movement below alerted Kathleen to her mother's presence and the ladder creaked.

A grey-blonde head poked over the edge of the floor. "I'll set the water to heatin'," she informed her daughter with a weary voice.

Kathleen only nodded, not breaking in her ministrations to her son. As her mother disappeared back downstairs, she peered into Teca's face.

The toddler's dark eyes were wide with fear, seeing things that no one could see. It had been this way all winter, these nightmares that would roust him and all in the house to wakefulness. It would take several minutes for the boy to wake, despite his activities and screeching, and he never remembered what it was that had caused the dreams.

Soon, Teca was no longer fighting his ina, curled up into a fetal ball in her arms and sobbing uncontrollably. Kathleen continued to speak to him in his native tongue, telling him a story of the creation of the world. Her voice soothed him, eased him, and the crying eventually drifted off.

When there were no more sounds but the hitching of his breath, the blonde adjusted her hold on Teca, cradling him. She peered down into sleepy red eyes. "Cinksi ? Are you well?"

Having some difficulty focusing, the toddler nodded and hugged his mother's neck. "Tired, ina," he mumbled.

With a relieved sigh at another crisis averted, Kathleen laid her son down in her bed. She kissed his forehead and tucked him in as he reached for the rag doll he now slept with, cuddling it to his small chest. The blonde continued to hum an Irish tune, caressing his soft hair until he was asleep.

Kathleen sighed again and closed her eyes. The thought of climbing back into the warm bed and returning to sleep herself was very tempting. She could hear her mother puttering around downstairs, however, and she forced her eyes open. Now's not the time, la.s.s.

The young woman pushed herself up and grabbed her robe, pulling it about her. She eyed the bed with regret as she walked to the ladder and eased her way down.

"Good luck, sis," Stewart whispered just before her head dropped below the loft floor.

A quick glance to the right and she could see her brother wink and smile encouragingly. The blonde smiled thanks as she continued on.

The coals had been stirred back into flame, the only light in the cabin. In the murky shadows, Kathleen could see her father facing the wall in his own bed, pillow held firmly over his head. Sorry again, da....

Her mother finished putting the tea into two cups on the table. She waved her daughter to a bench and retrieved the kettle before it could boil over and douse the flames. Rachel poured the hot liquid into the cups, tea leaves swirling about with the steam.

Kathleen sat, her profile to the fire. She idly peered into the cup pushed in her direction. Gypsies can see my fortune in tea leaves, she mused. I wonder what kind of bad luck they'd see tonight....

"Don't let it worry ye none, la.s.s," Rachel spoke in a low voice. "'Tis the curse of the O'Neill's and that's a fact. The lad'll get over it in time."

"Curse?" The blonde looked up from her cup, dark blue eyes concerned. "I've not heard of a curse before, mum."

The older woman shrugged. "Yer the first born, Kath. Ye had the night terrors as a child, too, though ye don't remember. As did I and your granny's brother, Malcolm." Rachel lifted her cup to blow on the tea. "The boy'll outgrow it in a year or so."

Irritable, Kathleen shook her head. "He has a name, mum."