Prologue

 

 

May 11, l876 - Dakota Territory

 

The whip bit down upon his back, flicking layer upon layer of swollen flesh from his body, yet the Sioux warrior held himself erect. To show his weakness would be more unforgiving than the white man's piece of rawhide that seared his skin like white-hot lightning.

Sweat pooled on the bridge of his nose and upper lip. He dug his fingernails into his palms. Curse the blue clad soldiers who stood around waiting, watching. Pressed up against the pole, splinters worked their way into his chest. The rope around his wrists cut deeply. It mattered not. He had withstood the pain of many a dance to the sun, had gone many days without food or water on his vision quests. He must fight, stand tall.

Again the whip unfurled its teeth upon him. Soon his strength would give out and his enemies would have the satisfaction of seeing him fall, but until then he was going to make Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, proud.

“Tell them! Where is Sitting Bull?” The words spoken in his Lakota tongue by the Crow scout seemed many moons away.

“Traitor! White man's dog!” He glared with hatred at the enemy before him. “One day this Sioux warrior will have his revenge and your scalp will hang high before my lodging.”

His gaze shifted to the one with the hair of the sun. “Hanging beside his.” He spat the words this time in the white man's tongue so that Yellow Hair Custer would understand.

“Hey-ay-hee-ee, hear my call. This is my promise.”

“Hit him again,” he heard the white general order.

“Fool,” the Crow scout whispered near the warrior’s face. “I gave you a chance, a chance to end this pain, but you refused.”

“You my enemy, enemy of my people, answerable to the white man, it would please you to see me shame myself by taking my own life.” The warrior spat. “That is what I think of you and your offer.”

Furious the Crow scout swiped his face, raised the whip in his hand and stepped around the pole.

Pain shot across the warrior’s back. “My sister’s injustice will be...” His jaw tightened in anticipation of yet another jolt of pain. Again the whip unfurled its biting tongue. “... revenged.” His eyelids drooped and he struggled to open them. His vision blurred. The light of day seemed to fade. The fiery blaze on his back spread rapidly, devouring him in its jaws.

Then just before he felt himself journey into that dark place in his mind, where the shadowed path led to light, he raised his gaze to the sky. Slowly the clouds began to shift and change form. The ghostly image of a white wolf with pale blue eyes stared back at him, hauntingly.

His lids dropped shut. And in his mind’s eye, from the darkness that surrounded him there came a song, and a woman journeyed down from the land above...