Losing Cassie: Destiny's Desire Series, #2

PROLOGUE

New Mexico Territory, 1840s

The beautiful young girl stood defiantly before the shaman, arms folded across her chest, fury burning in her dark eyes.  That she dared face him after her wrongdoing filled him with awe and no small bit of humor though the situation was grave indeed.  Women didn't stand up to him, they were wary of his position in the great family.  Seasoned warriors showed less courage of this lone female. 

What have you done, little one?  Wolf Who Walks spoke the words softly, no censure in his tone, only curiosity at her actions.

I did what needed doing. 

That is no answer, child.  Her eyes narrowed at his use of the word, though he meant no disrespect.  To him she was a child.  Barely twelve summers yet behind her eyes shone knowledge few within the great family could claim. 

I ask again, what have you done?

She lowered her gaze, breaking eye contact as she drew in a shuddering breath.  Lowering her head, she whispered, I have righted a great wrong.  My punishment should be swift and my life forfeited.  I understood this before I took action. 

Feet braced apart, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin, refusing to back down to his superior height or authority.  Small and delicately formed, she reminded him of his fellow warriors.  A heart of great courage resided in this small miracle, and again he marveled at her courage to stand before him without cowering.  Within their tribe only their leader was more revered and feared than he. 

He is dead and I am not sorry.  He was an evil monster, vile and cruel.  If he stood before me right now I would kill him again. 

Dead?  Who is dead?  What caused her, best friend to his daughter, this daughter of his own heart, to have killed? 

Why have you done such a thing, child?  Stealing the soul of one of the great family . . . 

I cannot tell.  Her voice broke at the end of her words and he watched her straightened to her full height, bracing herself for whatever was to come.  Wolf admired that strength in such a fragile female even as sorrow filled his heart. 

There could be no excuse for killing a member of their family.  All warriors were needed to protect the elders, the women and children and provide for the coming winter. 

Wolf knelt before her, stooping down to eye level.  He could read the fear in her dark brown eyes as well as her resolve.  Brave, but foolish if she thought to deny him the truth. 

He'd know Silver Dawn from the day she'd taken her first breath on entering this world.  Losing her father and mother to fever when she'd been barely more than a baby herself, the village cared for her, helped with her raising. 

"Take me to this man, Silver.  Whoever he was, a warrior's body needs to be returned to his people.

She shivered at his words, the fine tremor ran through her small body, and she wrapped her arms around herself.  "He was a bad man, Opa.  Very bad." 

Wolf blinked slowly at the nickname she spoke.  It was the name she'd called him as a small child when she couldn't pronounce his formal title.  A chill crept down his own spine as he realized for the first time his daughter wasn't with her best friend.  Hands trembling, he slowly reached forward and ran his fingertip along her jawline, the briefest feather-light touch. 

Silver, where is my daughter? 

Shaking her head, Silver took a step back.  Wolf remained squatting before her, not wanting her frightened or intimidated.  He'd do that if needed, but now wasn't the time for scaring her. 

I promised . . . Her voice trailed off and a single tear stole down her cheek.  Fear gripped his chest, squeezing around his heart. 

His daughter?  His baby girl—what had happened?

I promised, too, Silver.  To always keep you and my daughter safe.  She needs me now, doesn't she? 

Silver Dawn's eyes searched his face, long tortuous moments passing before a barely perceptible nod.

Take me to her.  Please.  Rising to his full height, he held out his hand to the girl before him, all the while praying to the All-Father for his daughter's safety.  A flood of relief spilled through him as Silver Dawn slid her tiny fingers into his.

Come, I'll take you to her.  With her hand firmly enclosed within his, he accompanied her.  They walked together in silence, traveling away from the village, heading deeper into the woods.  Surrounding trees grew thicker and denser, casting eerie shadows across the landscape.  Even the forest creatures held their silence as they journeyed toward his daughter. 

Silver stopped, squatted low to the ground beside a pile of branches with pieces of bark and leaves.  Tearing aside larger branches woven together with clumped foliage, an opening barely big enough for a child to crawl through came into view.  The haphazard structure was obviously man-made.  The girls must have built it as a place for them to play together, he realized. 

A small whimpering sound came from within and he battled his impulse to push Silver Dawn aside, every instinct screaming at him to hurry.  He wanted to tear the entire structure asunder to get to his daughter.  For he knew his daughter was inside—and hurting. 

Methodically tossing aside branches, Silver paused.  She looks bad.  Do not be alarmed.  There is some blood . . . most is not hers.

The vice around his heart tightened.  Blood. 

Move aside, little one.  Wolf reached for the next branch covering the opening.

No, I must do it.  Determined, Silver continued tossing aside each broken branch and clump of leaves until the opening was big enough for her to fit through.  Turning, she stood at her full height and reached upward, taking his face between both of her hands. 

I will bring her out, but you must not show your anger.  She is hurt and afraid and very . . . fragile.  Please do not be mad at her.  It is not her fault. 

With her words echoing in his ears, she went down on her hands and knees and shimmied her way into the little dwelling.  He heard whispered words though he couldn't make out anything clearly.  A muffled sob nearly broke his heart, realizing it was his daughter's cry of pain, yet here he stood, forced to stand aside and wait. 

Though he was a shaman for his people, Wolf was also a warrior.  Warriors did not stand idly by while children led.  Hands fisted at his sides, he struggled to remain calm, though his mind refused to stop playing scenes of horror and pain and blood. 

Silver Dawn's small compact body backed out of the rugged opening in their makeshift playhouse, every movement slow, her murmured words of comfort and encouragement a balm to his lacerated spirit.  She comforted his daughter, his only child.  One of the branch segments caught against her cheek, scratching the pale golden skin, blood welling up bright red, yet no sound of pain left her lips, only the continued whispered words of encouragement for her best friend.

Once fully freed from the branches, another small dark head appeared at the opening close to the ground.  Silver Dawn's hands tugged on a ragged worn blanket, pulling his daughter from within their makeshift dwelling.  She's so badly hurt she cannot come out herself?  Oh, this is bad, worse than he had feared. 

Wolf could contain himself no longer, rushing forward to pull his daughter free from her hiding place.  The glow from the bright sunlight highlighted the dark gleam of blue-black sparkles in her hair, but in places it was matted and covered with mud and something else—dark red and viscous—blood.  This close to his beloved child, the bitter scent filled his nostrils, cloying and heavy. 

He pulled her close against his chest, striding forward with her wrapped in his arms.  As gently as he could, he placed her on a bed of pine needles, beneath the trees of his beloved forest, where the dappled sunlight shone around her like a light from the All-Father.  Head bowed Wolf fought back the screams racking his body, tearing up from deep within his being.  Screams for the pain she suffered.  Screams for the pain reflected in her young battered face; what he could see through the bruising and the blood.  And screams for the person who'd dare hurt his daughter. 

Death—he would become the bringer of death to a monster who through these actions cost him the right to live.

Wolf became aware of Silver Dawn's small hand patting his back, offering consolation as only a youngster could.  With trembling hands, he straightened his daughter's clothing, taking note of every rip, every tear.  Bright red scratches matted with blood and dirt her bared arms and legs.  It seemed no matter where he looked, patches of scrapes and bruises marred her skin.  Worst of all, breaking his heart, was the blood on the inside of her thighs.

I told you, Silver Dawn's voice whispered in his ear, Most of the blood is not hers.  He took a shuddering breath, inhaled through his mouth to block out the stench of blood.  Hands shaking, he brushed back River's hair from her forehead, tucking the loose strand behind her ear.  Her dark brown eyes stared blankly, as though she didn't see him at all.  Great injury could damage even the strongest warrior's mind and she was a child.  Children were a treasure, a gift from the All-Father and for anyone to do such damage to a young one . . . words failed him.  Bending forward, Wolf brushed his lips against her forehead in the gentlest kiss before straightened. 

Who did this to my daughter, Silver Dawn? 

She'd been so strong until now, standing up to him, yet now she'd brought him to his daughter she seemed to deflate before his very eyes, shrinking down, shoulders hunched, her posture reminded him of a whipped puppy.  Head bowed, she no longer met his gaze directly but stared at the ground.  Realizing she'd been as traumatized as his daughter though in a different way, he squatted down in front of her, tilted her chin up with one finger.

You are not in trouble, little one.  It is good you came to me.  Tell me who did this and they will pay. 

She hiccuped as she began crying, as though the dam holding her emotions in check cracked and broke everything began to pour forth. 

We'd gone to gather berries for the evening meal.  Our baskets were not full, so we walked further, where we found more.  We picked many berries and got ready to go home.  I had to . . . Silver Dawn stopped as words choked her and he waited, though it nearly killed him. 

I needed to go and she didn't, so she kept walking while I took care of my business.  I hurried, I swear it, but all I found was her basket on the ground.  She wasn't there—I couldn't find her!  She looked at her friend, lying beside them, still and unmoving except for the rise and fall of her chest, her eyes staring blankly off into space.

I looked and looked but she wasn't anywhere.  So I stood really still and listened, like you taught me.  Everything was very quiet.  No birds sang in the trees.  No squirrels or rabbits moved in the bushes.  I put my basket on the ground and closed my eyes really tight—then I heard a noise.  It seemed far away but I followed it.  I ran and ran but I couldn't find her.

Silver Dawn's voice broke as tears tracked down her cheeks, and Wolf reached up, wiping them away.  Time was racing away.  Then everything around him froze as he remembered her words of earlier.  She'd killed him.  The monster who'd done this to his precious baby was beyond his reach.  Vengeance escaped him at the hands of this little female. 

As shaman, he was a healer of his people, but he was also a father and a strong warrior.  His baby, his sweet little River, needed physical healing but Silver Dawn needed emotional and spiritual help. 

"Tell me, wahi, what happened next?"

Silver Dawn sniffed but continued.  "There was a loud thump and cursing.  A man yelped and I followed his voice.  I thought maybe he could help me find River.  But he had River—he slapped her and . . . she fell down.  He did bad things to her, Opa.  Bad." 

Roiling fury poured through him, scouring his spirit with the agony of knowledge of what his daughter had endured.  But he needed her to finish.  He'd grieve later for his daughter's lost innocence—for he knew even without the words spoken. 

He didn't hear me.  River screamed but he slapped his hand against her mouth.  She screamed and screamed until there were no screams left. 

A pitiful mewling sound emerged from