Destiny Mine by Janelle Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

and people. Whatever came, she was ready to confront it, and she would do her best to obtain victory. Perhaps Stalking Wolf and the Cheyenne Strong Hearts would come to help them if— Forget him.
    On the fifth day after meeting Stalking Wolf, Kionee and Regim went hunting. After spending the last few days in the menses hut, Kionee was charged with tension and needed the exercise and diversion. Regim sensed something was disturbing her niece and hoped to learn its source.
    Kionee felt as if her emotions would get out of control if not discussed with someone who was loved and trusted. She needed advice, understanding, and comfort. What better source was there than the person who had trained and almost reared her, who was her mother’s “brother,” who was the Tiva-Chu —leader of the Hunter-Guardian rank—and who would never betray her confession no matter what it was.
    “I have worn my mask for fifteen summers, Regim …” she began, “but it has not become like part of my skin and life as I was told it would.” Kionee paced and frowned as she disclosed, “When the sun blazes down like a fire in the hot season, water runs from under my breast band and slips down my body like tiny rivers. The deerskin tightens as it dries and I can hardly breathe,but I dare not loosen or remove it. With each circle of seasons, my mounds grow larger and it becomes harder to flatten them into hiding. When I am captive in the Haukau during my blood flow season, I grow restless and angry, for it serves no good purpose. Why does Atah not halt it and dry up our breasts? He has the power and magic to remove such reminders we are female. Why are they not captured and placed in our kims with our female spirits?”
    Kionee halted her movements and looked at the older woman, but the Tiva-Chu ’s expression was unreadable. “No matter how long and how good we live as men, Regim, we remain females in body. Atah did not change us into the men we live as; we have not grown shafts and bags between our legs. We train, hunt, and council with men, but they do not seek us out at other times as friends; they still view us as females in their hearts and heads. We do not smoke the sacred pipe or share the sweat lodge or bathe with them; we are treated as females in those ways. Women pretend we are men—sons and brothers—but they know we are not; they are happy they are not tivas and must live as we do. When Mother Earth renews her face after each season of snow, strange and powerful urges call to me and attack me without warning and mercy. Their voices shout to me of mating and bearing children. When my hand lies across my chest at night, I think of children who will never feed there. Why must only tivas be denied such joys and victories? Why can we not be mates and mothers and still be Hunter-Guardians?”
    Regim was astonished by this unexpected revelation. She had guessed something was troubling Kionee but not a matter this serious. “If such unions were allowed, who would do the woman’s work and tend the children while a tiva hunts or fights for her own family?” she replied. “A man cannot do so and it is not the duty ofother women to do so, for they have their own tipis and families to tend. It would be dangerous and impossible for a tiva who is belly-carrying or breast-feeding a baby—or has other little ones and chores—to ride on the great summer hunt for the buffalo. If bound to a family, she would be unable to leave her children to battle enemies if we are attacked; that would deny her family and our tribe of a skilled fighter. Her presence would be required in camp to give her baby milk, so she could not go when long hunts are needed at times when game roams far from us in the cold season. And how could a joining between two ‘men’ be explained to visitors and children?”
    Regim grasped Kionee’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “If a tiva cannot be a full-time mother and mate, she must not leave her rank and join to a