Aaron was worried. The second transfusion seemed to do little for Mal and Marcus wasn't doing so well himself. He had been sleeping for over twenty four hours without signs of waking. They kept both of them in a quaranteen state now to make sure that while both of their immune systems were compromised, there would be less of a chance for them to get sick from something brought in.
By the start of the second twenty four hours, Marcus was running a fever and seemed to have the chills. No one had ever truly tried to do this much before so when Marcus began to show signs of weakening, they were at a loss of what to do. The medicine the text books talked about that could be used to make more blood cells was not in the stores of medicine any longer. What they should do from here was anyones guess other than to ride it out and pray.
Marcus woke once or twice but he didn't seem quite coherent. He'd fall back asleep soon after and would sleep for another long stretch of time before waking again. As Marcus drifted in and out of sleep, he drempt of the six Indians now standing over his own bed, as if they were expecting him to be the one to go or stay. He seemed in a panic as he tried to see if Mal was still alive but the Indians blocked his view of her bed. He called out to her, to see if she'd answer but there was nothing but silence.
Finally, he drifted back into a deeper sleep, his thoughts drifting to and fro as he slipped further into sleep. He felt as though he had drifted there for some time before he felt a hand on his, touching him gently. He tried to wake but found he couldn't really bring himself to become conscious to see who was next to him. It wasn't until he heard her voice that he knew who it was. He struggled to wake but found it impossible to do so. It scared him greatly but he had to try and keep a reign in on his emotions or it might cause him more damage.
He finally settled, giving up for the time being. He felt the hand stroking the back of his like he had done for Mal. He heard her voice calling out to him and then simply talking to him in return as he had done to her. Had she been aware like this when he had visited her in the spirit world. He tried to relax and listen to what she said, trying to keep himself still to hear what she had to say.
When she finally spoke again, her voice had changed a little. She seemed well educated, well grounded and yet, not so much the joking and happy go lucky she always seemed to come off as. Her voice held the sound of personal sadness of hope or love lost and not just from the wounds they all carried because of the Big Death. She stroked the back of his hand a little and then spoke in words he could truly hear.
"When I was little, my father gave me my own horse. I named him Big Sky because he made me feel like I could race the wind across the open plains and nothing could stop me. I spent long days on his back helping the tribe to work the herd of wild mustang. We were inseparable. But one day he stepped in a hole and broke his leg. My father handed me a pistol and said it was the most humane thing to do for Big Sky. He wouldn't do the deed for me and the longer I waited the more my horse screamed in pain. I learned a hard lesson that day and many times more before the Big Death came to take my family and my tribe away." She grew quiet for a time.
"Growing up on the reservation, you learn to grow up quickly. Life was hard but we all survived somehow. When all of the adults were dead, most of the children didn't riot. We all knew the hard lessons in life much more than those our age elsewhere in the states. We gathered our dead, burning their bodies and releasing their souls. We went out in search of the other nearby reservations and since the area around our reservation was mainly grasslands, we invited anyone with horses to come to us with whatever supplies and horses they could bring and we would do our best to survive as a tribe of one." She grew quiet for a time.
"We did the best we could on our own reservation. We set up living spaces in the large community center we had. It had generators and if the weather got too cold, we could start them up and heat the area. We gathered up every drop of fuel we could find, all the batteries, oil lamps, flashlights, candles, wood and food. We gathered blankets and clothing, anything worth keeping that might help in our survival. Slowly, other tribes of children began to join us. The herds of horses were driven into corrals and those that traveled on horseback drug liters or hauled wagons full of similar goods. We had several houses set aside for storage and it was all combined together. One house was designated only for our history, the artifacts and priceless possessions that had been handed down from one generation to the next. Pictures, news articles, everything went into that one house." She sighed a little and thought about those days that led up to the forming of one tribe.
"We survived and soon we realized that we had made it through two winters without loosing anyone. The oldest of us got together and deemed us the Horse Tribe when we knew that our scouts had contacted and searched all the reservations for three states. We received word that those in the North Country and around the Great Lakes wished to remain hidden and so they were the Fishing or Northern Tribe. We knew that the several hundred children and teens we had gathered, we were the last of our race and ancestry. We farmed, we herded buffalo and cattle. We disassembled fences to open grazing lands up from the north to the south. We staved off the bands of raiders as the years progressed. Soon most of us were old enough to divide the tribe into three sections, each taking part of the mustang herd and other horses we'd gathered over the years. We would resettle in three small towns to claim as our own and once a year, we'd drive the horses, cattle and buffalo down to Kansas where the wheat fields and grasslands were richer in nutrients for the animals. It's been that way now for six years. We found a town down there that all of us take over for the winter." She was silent again as memories clouded her speech and mind. She tried desperately to contain herself but she felt weak, worn out and alone.
She had heard every word that Marcus had spoken to her while she lay in her bed, waiting to know the will of the Great Spirit. When she received that second transfusion from Marcus, it brought her far enough out of her stupor to respond to him. But the strain of saving her life was taking a toll on his. If she didn't have the courage to tell him how she felt, she'd never be true to herself or to the cause of being free.
Finally she spoke again, "I met a young man about five years ago. He had come in from the east, from a tribe somewhere in Michigan. By then I had been made Chief of the town that we stayed in during the summer and had been on the Council for eight years. I fell for his smooth moves and way of talking. The stories he told about where he came from and what they had accomplished seemed too good to be true but yet, we all wanted to believe in something outside of ourselves. He wasn't my first but I thought he was truly the one. Then he started trying to get us to abandon all that we'd worked hard for, to come join those in the East. We really were content with what we were doing and where we were. We refused and then he tried to get me to leave with him. When I refused…he wasn't the man I fell in love with. He seemed to go crazy and tried to force the tribe into going with him because he held my life at gunpoint."
Her words sounded pained to Marcus as he listened. She sighed, "He had not expected the reaction that he got but he soon found himself with a hatchet buried in the calf of his leg. He screamed and went down. I turned and … using his gun against him, I shot him in the head like I had Big Sky so many years ago. I…I refused to let anyone get that close to me again. I was so scared that I spent days away from everyone, crying, shaking and screaming at the world around me. When I returned…the others sensed the change in me but they knew with time I would be back to my old self again, just more cautious."
She leaned down and kissed the back of his hand like he had done to her. "I…fell in love with you the moment I saw you come out that door to greet us. I stayed away using the route as an excuse because I didn't trust myself and I didn't know if I could trust you. It takes a long time for me to trust new people." She said quietly.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, whispering to him. "But I am a free spirit, unable to live under the ground. You are like the Pairie Dog…living underground in your burrows and only coming to the surface when there is need. I fear that even if you felt the same for me as I do you, we are too different to…to…" she seemed to be struggling to come up with the right words. Finally she leaned forward and kissed his lips.
Marcus could feel the need in them but the fear still lingered. He struggled to wake up as he felt her leave the side of his bed. He wanted to scream and shout at her to stay, that he would make it work but it seemed as if he could only lay there and remain still. He wanted to weep but he only laid there, quiet and calm as if nothing could phase him physically.
******
Mal woke the following morning and against the better judgment of the medics, went up and appraised her team. She had them harnessed to the sled that had been brought back from the sight of attack before anyone knew to stop her. Both Kurdy and Smith tried to keep her from leaving but she was just stubborn enough to make their words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Mal looked at Kurdy, her gaze steady, unflinching. "Kurdy, I have duties elsewhere that I must be attended to." She went back to her bow and quiver of arrows and pulled out one that had a metal shaft instead of wood like the others. She handed the arrow to Kurdy, "Give this to Marcus when he wakes. Tell him the solution he seeks is within and set to strike at the heart of the enemy."
Kurdy looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "You must all take care of each other. I won't be back until winter has run its course but I will return." She said with a bit of a smile and pulled on an oversized jacket she pulled out of a pack and a worn out baseball hat since her old work hat had been lost somewhere and not found.
She got the team to pull the sled out into the whipping wind and blowing snow. She saluted the guard and got the team moving again, disappearing into the white wall that hid everything within several feet of the door.