Anxiously Sansa made her way through the fresh snowfall to Bronn and Margaery's tipi. Despite the inclement weather, the people all seemed to be milling about in small groups and talking quietly. A discernably restless tension tainted the atmosphere of the tribe, which was so unlike the normally friendly, familial disposition amongst them that Sansa's hands set to trembling at once.

"Margaery," Sansa called in English while rubbing her hands together against the cold. "Are you inside?"

"Yes, Sansa, come on in," Margaery answered as she opened the flap. Sansa noticed that her friend was once again half-dressed, and despite her apprehensive state, she smiled to herself.

Several women standing by the fire nearby snickered and whispered: "Bronn Sapa Mni wa skan wichayazipa." Bronn Black Water is a busy bee. "Cate iyapa Zi Wanahca wahchaca." He keeps Yellow Flower blooming.

Ducking her head, Sansa began to giggle in spite of herself. It was true, Bronn and Margaery rarely left the tipi and when they did, it was obvious what they had been doing to anyone who looked at them. When Sansa entered the tipi she struggled to keep down her laughter. "Bronn came over to speak to Sandor." She began with difficulty.

"Yeah, Black Elk came by while we were…well, you know." Margaery winked at her as she tied the straps of her dress. "He did the same with Bronn."

"He asked me to come over and visit, otherwise I would not have disturbed you."

"So Sandor gave you the dismissal, huh? I'm not surprised. He doesn't want to upset you." Margaery laughed and shook her head. "The men around here seem to think you are such a delicate creature. They don't know you're more wolf than bird."

She noticed Margaery almost sounded jealous. "They didn't want me there." Sansa said simply as she watched her friend closely. "Despite the fact that it's freezing outside, everyone is hanging around and talking. What is going on around here?"

"Oh I'm sure it's nothing." Margaery dismissively waved her hand at Sansa while she dug through a basket. "Forgive me, Sansa but I've got to focus on finishing dressing so we can go."

It was unlike Margaery not to dish when given the opportunity. "Go where?" Sansa asked, her alarm steadily rising as she spoke. "Where are we going?"

"The chief's tipi." Margaery stopped tying up her leggings and gazed at her. "Grab another buffalo robe, will you? It's still snowing and I don't want to catch cold."

Why would we catch cold at the chief's tent? He has the biggest fire in camp. Keeping her thoughts to herself, Sansa knelt down to help her. "Why are we going to the chief's tent?"

"Didn't Sandor tell you?" Margaery shook her head and sighed. "The council is meeting to decide when and who will go up against the white settlers and Pawnee."

"What?" Sansa stammered. Surely her friend didn't mean that the Lakota would go and do the same to other settlers as the Pawnee had done to them. "What do the warriors want with the settlers and the Pawnee?" When Margaery didn't answer, Sansa jerked her by the arm to stop. "Margaery, explain this to me, please!"

Her friend shrugged. "Bronn didn't say, and God forbid I ask a question." She huffed. "I'm sure the men will tell us when they return. But for now, let's go. Come dear, we need to get there early if we want a good spot outside to listen." She affectionately pinched Sansa's cheek.

Blankly Sansa stared at her, wondering if it was possible that Sandor would do such a thing. Seeing her distress, Margaery added: "Bronn and Sandor are sure to go, Sansa, for they are the chief's sons. Sandor is considered the finest warrior in camp. You don't think this is his first raid, do you?"

Blinking back tears, Sansa shook her head.

Margaery put her arm around her. "None of that now. Let's go and here what's going on for ourselves."

As they hurried toward Standing Bear's tipi of meeting, the sounds of the men's voices grew louder. There was a great crowd gathered outside as well, with people jockeying for position. Margaery took Sansa by the hand and led her into the crowd nearest the flap.

"It is time for us to make war on the white settlers who pass through our lands. I have seen it. And we are in need of raids on the Pawnee." White Buffalo's voice echoed softly among the masculine tones within the tipi, which suddenly silenced at the sound of her speaking. "We are low on foodstuffs and horses from their raids on us during the fall."

"That must have been when Bronn and Sandor found us." Margaery whispered. "They were chasing the Pawnee back to their own territory when they came across us, Bronn said."

Sansa supposed White Buffalo's words were true, for she remembered seeing Black Elk take the food out of the Stark's burned out wagon and load it onto his horse. What he could not carry, the other men took.

After staring into the fire, Chief Standing Bear looked up. "Talk to me of the whites."

"The whites trespass on our lands and on the lands of our enemies alike." She tossed a garment in front of the council, and even in their tight position, Sansa could recognize it as one that belonged to her mother.

Margaery identified it too, for she gasped and pulled Sansa close to her.

Furious, Sansa pulled out of Margaery's grasp and started to march inside, but a young brave named White Hawk stopped her.

"You must not enter." He held his lance to block her entry. "No women may go before the chief during a council unless invited."

"Leave me be! I am Three Hound's wife!" She shouted in Lakota as she wriggled out of his grasp. "That dress belonged to my mother! I want it back!"

"Turn loose of her," Margaery swatted at him. "Sandor will have your head for this!" Several of the older women came over and began to try to help Sansa get away from White Hawk. Patiently he held on to her.

"Little Bird, Three Hounds won't like it if you go in," he calmly answered, though he looked at her sympathetically. "Only White Buffalo is allowed because she is our medicine woman. I will tell him it is your mother's and that you want it back. He will bring it to you."

Nodding, Sansa stopped struggling. "Thank you, White Hawk." He gave her a small smile and then ducked inside the tipi. She watched as he moved beside Sandor and whispered in his ear.

As he listened to White Hawk, Sandor's eyes turned charcoal with rage. At once he stood up and snatched up the garment. "Where did you get this, White Buffalo?" Even from far away Sansa could see his breath was ragged, and he gripped his fists at his side to calm himself.

"Oh, shit," Margaery whispered to Sansa. "Now she's gone and done it." She took Sansa by the hand and wriggled between the people to the seam of the flap. "Am I not the wife of the chief's son?" She asked the women around them in Lakota. Immediately they moved away, providing Sansa and Margaery a good view between the leathers.

Lowering her eyes, White Buffalo calmly answered: "It was traded to me for medicine by Spotted Tail."

Sandor's jaw tightened further. "This material belongs to my wife. It was her mother's dress." Sandor turned and looked around him. "The Pawnee left it on the prairie. I want all garments like this returned to her. I know Spotted Tail and the others found them. I will trade for them."

Standing Bear quieted the assembly. "They will be returned tonight, my son, and they will be left outside of your dwelling. When you arise, Little Bird will take whatever she chooses, and what she does not will be left. You will not trade for what rightfully belongs to your wife. It is her place to trade for it." Several of the warriors glanced at each other but said nothing.

"This is all I have to say." Standing Bear added for emphasis. "Speak to me of the Pawnee."

"They take without asking and offer nothing in return, just as the whites do," White Buffalo went on. "It is the will of Wakan Tanka that they both are taught that this cannot be done."

The medicine woman's pronouncement excited conversation between the men. Sansa couldn't understand them, they all spoke so fast, but Margaery picked up Bronn's voice calling for there to be silence. "White Buffalo speaks truly. There is no denying she has powerful medicine and that we should listen to her carefully. But attacking the whites will surely bring more. It is a delicate matter that requires more discussion."

"Bronn Blackwater thinks ahead, and that is good. But I believe we will find no whites during this season," Black Elk commented. "They come during the warm moons. They are a weak race. They don't ride well. They don't shoot well. They're dirty and not likely to survive the winter. In the warm moons, we will speak more of the whites. Let us speak only of the Pawnee now. "

"Black Elk is very practical, and I hear his words. It is true we should not waste talk on what we need not concern ourselves. But we must speak of both whites and Pawnee." Chief Standing Bear announced. "The whites will keep coming. They hunt our buffalo with no regard to our rights. I do not know if we will be able to drive them out. But these are our lands and we will fight the whites."

Sansa and Margaery glanced around the tipi. All the men agreed.

"For now, we will only raid the Pawnee," he declared. "We will take horses and food, nothing more."

A general murmur of assent went up through the assembly. Iron Horse, an old warrior who now served as a story teller, stood up. "A great chief like Standing Bear should not lower himself to teach lessons to the whites or the Pawnee."

Standing Bear nodded. "I will not go." He looked toward Sandor. "You will go." Then he turned to Bronn. "And you will go." The chief then gestured to the young brave White Hawk. "And you, too, will go. You men choose who will go with you. Take no more than four, and do not stay out longer than necessary for we have word from the Cheyenne that the Pawnee are looking for our camp."

Hearing this, Sansa turned toward Sandor, who looked as though he wanted to speak. "Ready your things for Sunday at dawn. That is all I have to say."

"What was those last words?" Margaery turned to her.

"Sunday at dawn. The Lakota say: Aƞpétu Wakȟáƞ Áƞpo kiƞ. The day of power at dawn." Sansa gripped her friend's hands tightly. "Do you the Pawnee will come for us here?"

"No, silly. Look around you." Margaery affected a smile as she gestured toward the warriors. "We are safe here."

"But they will be gone. Are you sure we will be safe?" Sansa asked softly.

"Of course I am." Margaery scoffed lightly, though her eyes worriedly glimpsed toward the mountain pass above them as she spoke. "Now, go back to your tipi. Sandor and Bronn will be looking for us."

Sansa hurried back to the tipi, all the while hoping Sandor did not see her. After laying out a selection of berry cakes and buffalo jerky, she sat amid the furs and waited for him to return. She did not wait long, for Sandor soon entered the tipi, carrying her mother's dress behind his back.

"Will you eat, my love?" Sansa smiled up at him, pretending not to notice.

"I brought you this," Sandor gruffly handed her the garment and then sat in front of her. Sansa saw that it was her mother's favorite gingham dress, now torn and stained with blood, and at once she began to cry. Lifting her into his arms, Sandor held her while she sobbed out her grief. It was the first time since she arrived at the tribe that she gave free vent to her feelings, and once Sansa started, the tears were difficult to stop. All the while, Sandor remained silent, the man stroking her hair gently as he held her.

Once Sansa settled down, he carefully dried her face. "There is more I must say to you."

"I already know," Sansa sniffed. "You will be leaving at dawn on Sunday. Margaery and I were listening outside."

"You are safe here." He took her hands in his own. "I have asked Black Elk to protect you and provide for you while I am gone."

"I do not want him," Sansa answered petulantly. "I only want you. Must you leave me?"

Sighing, Sandor took her by the hand. "I will only be gone seven days. You must trust me."

Angrily Sansa turned away from him. "It does not matter, does it? You will go regardless."

"What does not matter?" Sandor heatedly gripped her arms and turned her to face him. "Speak to me."

"It does not matter to you if I am safe." Sansa began to cry again, though her tears were from anger now. "I heard your father say the Pawnee may come. What if they are looking for me?"

"They will not come here." His complexion paled as he regarded her. "And while I am gone, I will find the man who hurt you and I will bring you his scalp. He will not frighten you in my own home, I swear it."

The very idea brought a deep queasiness to her stomach. "Sandor, I-"

"No!" He shouted. "He will not frighten you here! I will end it!"

Before Sansa could reply, Sandor stormed out of the tipi and into the frozen night.

Notes:

Despite being romanticized by movies such as Dances with Wolves (which I love, btw) the Lakota were a warrior nation and often raided the supplies of other tribes, such as the Cheyenne, Ute and also white settlers. And yes, they took scalps and mutilated their enemies' bodies so they would go into the afterlife maimed and unable to make war on them again. It was up to the chief to what extent these took place but history shows that it was extensive. Eventually though, as the settlers (and the US cavalry, who protected them) expanded into their territories, most of these rival bands would unite against whites in general and Custer in particular.

This meeting is another example of polite discourse that made up Lakota councils. Also, it was a great honor to be asked to protect the family of a warrior while he was gone, though Sansa doesn't appreciate it yet. :D