It is a hot, sunny day and a feeling of celebration permeates the air as last-minute chores are finished up around the campgrounds, one on each side of the unified Blackrush River, although the wide watercourse is shallow enough to ford at this stage. It is a sacred and symbolic place, as the more western River Rushy meets the equally vital and powerful Black Rain River in the confluence of two waterways to become one. Peace treaties are signed here. Weddings initially bonded here are strong and blessed. Star Hawk is pleased with the sights and smells meeting his senses, though the festivities are not for him, not this time.

The young man has just earned his third and shamanic name, Burning, for the honing of his single magical talent: a fiery passion which he controls with the focus and finesse of a solitary flame. He is the best hunter and the presumed next leader of his tribe, Sun Horse Clan. Not that his prowess at bringing in game, alone, has granted Star Hawk Burning this position; it is more because, when he turns the intensity for which he is known towards a problem, obstacles tend to melt away like morning mist over the water. He sees his way through thorny puzzles of negotiation and delicate tangles of interpersonal relationships like a hawk flying beneath a starry sky.

His people live in the northern central, grassy steppes of Visharvé: the All Land, in a parallel universe where a magical version of Pangaea has persisted and flourished. The migratory culture of the Tishatayo Clans who inhabit the region revolves around their great horse herds and the undomesticated cattle that they hunt. In the spring, they follow the masses of traveling cattle north to their summer pastures, seemingly aimlessly, whereas in autumn, the Horse Clans return to their winter campgrounds where the largely self-sufficient crops which they plant before leaving are ready to be harvested. Traditionally, the Clans tend to be proud and fiercely independent, and competition, rivalry, or even warfare between opposing clans is not uncommon. However, honesty is highly prized, almost to a fault, and today’s events bear witness to the fruits of that forthrightness.

As the paradoxical nature of his name would suggest, as Hawks are diurnal birds, Star Hawk is a complex individual. Since fresh flowers are now decorating everything, although never too many for the plants to renew themselves, he cannot forget that there is a wedding in the offing, scheduled for that afternoon; hence, he’s preoccupied with thoughts of love, and his are pleasant musings. Yet currently Hawk is refusing to acknowledge the advances of the girl whom he secretly desires, because he considers her to be too young and something of a spoiled brat, both traits she’ll grow out of. Nevertheless, it is a good thing that he learned to stop nibbling at the ends of his ebony braids in frustration when he was a boy, because the woman is a trial to his patience.

Wolf Calling has also recently been awarded her third name. In her heart's wild Song lives the power to allure, to persuade, and with repetition or emphasis, to compel. Her voice is a potent weapon, but to deprive another entirely of free will is a terrible sin against nature. Therefore, she has been warned by Sun Horse Clan's young shaman to practice well, and to be extremely careful of her gift’s use. But the headstrong, 18-year-old maiden is, if not outright rebellious, then certainly impetuous, and Wolf Calling cannot resist teasing and tormenting Star Hawk with it just a little for seeming so oblivious to her.

Positioned as the Tishatayo clans’ territories are, their members have some access to the luxuries of Silken Way trade goods. In return, they will trade expertly tooled leather but are virtually never willing to part with any of their friends, companions, and livelihoods, their fine horses. Today, Song the Wolf Calling is dressed in the satiny, soft cloth for which the route is named and bedecked with pink flowers for her older sister's wedding. The color she has chosen is subdued and so will set off the bride’s butter yellow admirably. Wolf is not normally one to consider such things, yet she is devoted to both her blood sister, and her adopted sister.

Springing Doe, the eldest of the three sisters, will marry Grey Owl from the neighboring Rolling Thunder Clan at the site where the two mighty rivers not only meet, but furthermore are easier to cross than for miles in any direction. It is thick with symbolism, but this is good. The romance of the two young people is a product of this summer’s peace talks between their respective clans and will further cement that alliance. Wolf Calling, despite her infatuation with Star Hawk, does not expect ever to marry, as she has sworn to wed no man who cannot beat her in a fair fight. For how can she respect a man who cannot stand up to her, or who tries to throw a fight to win her?

Song's combat style is unique and in no way leans on the magic inherent in her voice, instead combining the motions of the women's dances of her people with the martial arts that she has acquired from Silken Way travelers. So far, she has never met a man who could adapt a defense against her quickly enough to avoid defeat. And if she wishes Star Hawk Burning would challenge her, instead of standing aloof, that doesn't prove that she even has serious feelings for him. He merely... intrigues her, that's all. As Chieftain White Bear's daughter, she naturally wants to know how he compares to her father: what kind of man he is, and what sort of leader he will become.

Likewise garbed in a blend of flowing, silk skirts already donned for the wedding and her ceremonial shamanic regalia, Smoke Cat Watching is dancing, one last time and at the last possible minute, in augury for her adopted sister Springing Doe's bonding ritual. Her magic is strong and, as she loses herself in the sacred movement, glimpses of the future open before her mind’s eye. The portents are good, all is going well and smoothly until the appearance of her spirit animal, the mythical smoke cat, who brings a dire warning. Someone is ill-wishing the marriage, someone who evidently does not want peace between the clans and is cowardly enough to choose this way to go about ruining the negotiations.

Smoke Cat Watching is a powerful young shaman but, at only two years older than Wolf Calling, she lacks experience with curses of such a high level of force. This degree and type of malice smacks of demon mischief, of interference from the netherworld at the instigation of one who has traded bits of humanity for influence over others. It is termed “mischief” because to envision an all-out assault by demons is more than a sane mind can handle. Smoke is not sure whom to trust, even within Sun Horse Clan, as clearly there is someone she doesn’t know as well as she believed; yet, Rolling Thunder is at risk, also. Specifically, Grey Owl is in danger, for it is a death spell cast over the betrothed pair.

"What shall I do?" she asks the clouded, charcoal-hued smoke cat, which, as usual, after delivering its message, yields no further intelligible aid, instead speaking her own wisdom back to her. This is the way of totem animals. And, especially, it is the way of cats.

"Watch! And watch closely!" is her answer. Although it would be helpful to have a clue as to what she should watch for, the shaman knows better than to pester a panther-sized feline for hints it is unwilling to provide. Solemnly, Smoke Cat thanks her spirit animal for its help, its care, and the trouble it has gone to on her behalf. After all, it didn’t have to bestir itself to deliver its warning.

All throughout the wedding rituals, Smoke Cat Watching is alert for the smallest sign of wrongness. However, everything proceeds as it should: the blessing and ceremonial binding of hands by herself and Rolling Thunder’s shaman, the speeches and small gifts presented by the two chieftains, the recording into sacred song of the union by Talks Over the Left and the corresponding lore-keeper of the neighboring tribe. The mistake is a subtle thing, of course, and later in the day when her eyes are getting bleary from watching everything so closely.

Had she not been straining every sense to the limit, it would probably have escaped her notice just as it was intended to do. During the banquet feast, after the marriage ceremony itself but before the night's entertainment of singing, dancing, and drinking truly begins, Star Hawk Burning... hesitates uneasily while cutting his meat, and not for the first time that evening; his fingers quiver, highlighted by the setting sun, as if seeking familiar grooves in wood and metal that are simply not there, and he nearly slices his hand open.

‘That is not his knife,’ thinks Smoke Cat Watching. ‘He’s held it every day for over 20 years; his knife is like a part of him by now. A magical aura of confusion surrounds this one, for the moment, to make people believe that this blade genuinely belongs to Star Hawk.’ That’s ominous, although Smoke isn’t sure yet how this substitution fits into the bigger picture. But if Star Hawk Burning is being selected as a scapegoat, he needs protection also, yet Smoke Cat cannot be everywhere at once. It is a dilemma. However, she does not lack resources of her own. Frantically, the young shaman considers exactly what steps need to be taken most critically, and in what sequence.

"Do whatever you must but keep Star Hawk within sight of as many people as you can; don't let him leave the ring of firelight!" It is a strange order, but Song the Wolf Calling does not question that it is indeed vital. It comes from her adopted sister and shaman, Smoke Cat Watching. Five years ago, at the time of the terrible fever, Smoke’s mother Bronze Mirror, the sister of her mother, Glass Kite, died tragically, and the cousins have been sisters ever since. She would trust the older girl with her life, and is therefore willing to accept, on faith, that doing this will delay her eldest sister Springing Doe’s murder.

But how is she to achieve that goal? She must stall until Smoke Cat Watching can find the true killer, the person who has taken Star Hawk Burning's knife in order to implicate him as the murderer. But Wolf Calling has never cared much for the social graces or knowing how to be good company and captivate your listeners without seeming to do so; that was always more the realm of her sister, Springing Doe, and she dares not use her Song in the midst of so many pre-existing spells, lest something go awry. At first her task is easy, for Star Hawk, obviously, does not want to leave the party too early, but as the company thins, why linger near the common bonfire?

Before more than the very young and the sober and sedate among the elders have gone to bed, therefore, Wolf Calling issues a challenge. Star Hawk Burning has been flirting with a pretty girl from Rolling Thunder who has, in turn, responded with boundless enthusiasm. This scenario provides Song with the excuse she needs to shame and provoke him into combat, a situation that he has so far been deft at avoiding. She may have to maneuver a bit, but Song the Wolf Calling is fairly certain that he will wind up accepting her fight.

"You'd better slip away with her now, Hawk," says Wolf Calling in a somewhat ribald tone meant to carry. "She’s popular and if you lose track of her, you’ll lose your chance. Or have you had too much to drink and already misplaced the... er... edge you need?"

Star Hawk's cheeks burn red as he instinctively reaches for his knife since, female or no, a slight to his honor like that must be settled one way or another, and he fumbles the one he finds in its place. Slowly, despite the enchanted confusion, he begins to suspect that someone is playing a nasty joke on him, at the least.

Song the Wolf Calling is jeering at him, "Well, which is it? Can you not keep hold of your own blade, or are you just naturally clumsy?”

"Do not push me too far, little girl," he snaps at her, convinced that she knows more about the incident of knife swapping than she is telling.

"Or what?" she retorts. "I’ve insulted your pride, what? Twice, three times? Are you just going to let me get away with it because I’m a woman? Will you lose your honor, as well, over this? Or will you kick off your boots and fight? I, Song the Wolf Calling, challenge you, Star Hawk Burning!"

“What I ought to do is punish you like the child you’re acting. But, thank the spirits, I am not your father. I have no right to give you the swat on the backside which you so richly deserve,” counters Star Hawk.

Wolf waggles her hips and… er… tail at him invitingly, though her eyes never leave his face. Several pairs of eyes now watch the two of them. Quiet wagers are being placed. “If you think you can… Come and get me!”

Although it doesn’t show in his expression, Hawk is dismayed. He only meant to admonish her, perhaps shame her a little in public. How did he allow Wolf Calling to provoke him this far? Star Hawk Burning does not like it that things are spinning so utterly beyond his control. Then, Star Hawk smiles, thinking he sees a way out of this mess. The pretty girl is gone, but he doesn't notice. Half solicitously, he remarks, "I wouldn't want you to get your beautiful outfit all dirty and torn. We'll fight some other time."

Eerily calmly, Song says, "You're right. These clothes are too nice to ruin. I suppose I'll just have to take them off, in that case. But we fight now."

To everyone's great astonishment, Wolf Calling pulls her silken dress over her head and stands boldly, bronze skin barely covered in a short loincloth and a few strips of gauze, quickly twisted into a halter. Star Hawk Burning's throat feels thick, but he sounds perfectly normal when he manages to speak. "No weapons."

"Of course not, Hawk," she answers. "You seem to be lacking in keen edges, anyway." Taking her own knife, Song begins to carve a large half circle in the beaten turf; it is for Star Hawk to complete the circle, and then both will ground their blades by burying them to the hilt in the earth. By tradition, the first to leave the circle or be unable to continue, loses. Wolf Calling has by now succeeded in gaining the attention of a wide group of spectators. But she does not know how long she can maintain that interest.

The minute the foreign knife is grounded, a ripple of doubt, or maybe relief, seems to pass up and over Star Hawk. He blinks as he steps into the circle, as if wondering how he got into this ridiculous situation, suspecting that he has been manipulated, but knowing that it is too late to back down now. The only thing for Star Hawk Burning to do at this point is to save face by finishing this silly match as soon as possible. And really, Wolf Calling has more than earned a little sting to her ego; this will be more effective than a scolding. He tosses his own vest and shirt to a friend and prepares to enjoy this.

Wolf Calling must make this bout last as long as possible. She has no desire to hurt Star Hawk, well… not seriously, but she is prepared to do so if it is the only way to save both him and her sister. As she dances lightly into the ring, she knows her strategy: feint, retreat, draw him out, and engage in contact only rarely. Yet, he is not being cooperative, standing like a tree at his pole of the circle, near the knife that should be his, waiting for her to get close enough to simply grab and heave out of the enclosed space.

It's an emotionally frustrating tactic, since she did have a plan of attack all worked out, but then it strikes Song that, logically, this is exactly what she wants: delay. The female fighter stops swaying and twirling, and sits down exactly where she is, seemingly having nothing better to do than plait little braids into her glossy, midnight black hair. Besides, this conserves her energy, and she might need it desperately, later, when Star Hawk Burning finally decides that he’s stared at her in a disapproving manner sufficiently. It also irritates him back, as a nice bonus.

Star Hawk laughs. "What, not so eager to fight now, young one?” Song is acting exactly like the little girl he called her, playing with her hair. Either she’s plotting something and this is a trap, or he’s underestimated her highly. In that case, their romance is over before he ever started it. He will not bond himself to a foolish or stupid woman.

"No, of course not. Why should I be?" she replies. "I've already won, in that you're doing what you didn't want to, while I'm perfectly at ease.” Wolf Calling fakes a yawn. “In other words, as long as you refuse to fight, I remain undefeated with absolutely no effort on my part, which I confess is rather pleasant. And this is making you uncomfortable to be trapped in a situation you’ve actively avoided for so long. But we can continue any time you feel that you're rested and ready, Star Hawk." Song winks at him audaciously. “Or we can discuss why you’re reluctant to lay a finger on me, Hawk, if you prefer…”

"A challenge is too serious a thing to play games with, Wolfling. Nor am I a toy for your amusement." Star Hawk Burning becomes stern and stalks slowly towards her, ready for her to spring up and flee. Instead, she continues to sit mutely, and her apparent unconcern annoys him. He slows, frowning down at her as he warily approaches Song; quick as a snake she lashes one foot behind his ankle and rising, punches him hard in the ribs. As he regains his balance, she does run away, smiling. Oddly enough, he smiles, as well.

Smoke Cat Watching knows that now is the time to act. While Wolf Calling is monopolizing Star Hawk’s focus so notoriously, the newlyweds should be relatively safe. Deciding that she has nothing to lose by trusting her counterpart, she confides in Rolling Thunder Clan's shaman, Blue Turtle Dreaming, sharing her foretelling with him. Although he presents a laidback image, bordering on laziness, not much gets past Blue Turtle’s sleepy, brown eyes. He, too, has felt something disturbing.

Together the shamans arrange that they will take turns: one will guard the tent of Grey Owl and Springing Doe from witchcraft or evil manifestations, while the other seeks for clues to the identity of the ill-wisher. It is likely that there is only one malefactor with any supernatural power, but he or she might have accomplices willingly or unwillingly carrying out part of the dastardly plan. Finding Star Hawk's stolen knife would be ideal, but there are other leads to follow. For instance, the girl who was so friendly… Who was she and was that typical of her?

Blue Turtle Dreaming is well over 30, despite looking younger, and remains unmarried but states that he is destined to wed later in life. He is very wise and, as his appellation suggests, a slow and methodical individual rather than being mercurial in temperament. It distresses him deeply that demon mischief might have arisen within his clan and passed unnoticed by him, just as Smoke Cat feels the same.

Both hope against hope that the primary threat is from some outsider, although the most likely enemy would be from some other Tishatayo Clan who would benefit from continued hostilities between Sun Horse and Rolling Thunder; however, no plainsman or woman with honor would follow a leader who practiced such underhanded and evil tactics for any appreciable amount of time. So, who else has the most to gain?

Named not only for her deer-like grace and beauty, but also her intuitive wit that always seems to leap to the truth, White Bear's oldest daughter, Springing Doe, is making a somewhat controversial marriage. Integral to the peace talks, she exercised her charm as well as her shrewdness in eventually joining two stubborn old men at the table in a mutually beneficial accord. Of course, she had help; her counterpart, one of the top candidates for the next chieftain of Rolling Thunder Clan, a young man named Grey Owl, was always there to lend a quiet word of wisdom just when it was most likely to be heard. They spent the long summer evenings talking of inconsequential things, unwinding the tensions of the day from their shoulders, and falling deeply in love.

Before Springing Doe made the difficult choice to leave Sun Horse and dwell with Grey Owl, however, there was talk of her becoming the eventual leader of Sun Horse Clan, rather than some male hunter, although Star Hawk was always a strong contender for the position, as well. Many attempted to matchmake them, but although they remain good friends, there was never any real attraction there. As it is, Spring is virtually universally popular within her birth clan for her ability to instinctively know the right thing to say in any situation and is likewise generally receiving a warm welcome in her new one. Now, her interpersonal skills and flair for politics have helped seal Grey Owl's place as the next in line to become chieftain of Rolling Thunder. Together, they are both kind and formidable; her calm extroversion balances her groom's more introspective but passionate and sensitive character.

A few malcontents have whispered that a child of Springing Doe and Grey Owl could potentially unite the rival clans, which are, as of yet, only tentatively at peace. Such a thing has not even been proposed as a possible political reality in the future, since Spring has vowed to commit completely to her husband’s tribe. Nevertheless, rumors spread, especially when the malicious tongues of dissatisfied souls from each side help them along, and other clans in the area have been made uncomfortable by this gossip. An extended truce is one thing, but to permanently reset the balance of power is another. For a thoroughly lovable girl, Springing Doe has a remarkable number of enemies that she's never met, but to actually kill her… It seems like an excessive and incredible reaction.

Blue Turtle Dreaming and Smoke Cat Watching have made progress in piecing together the puzzle. The two shamans have tracked down the ‘pretty girl’ who was earlier so flirtatious and friendly to Star Hawk but later seemed to disappear when Wolf Calling’s dramatic scene made her too visible. This was doubly difficult because, upon reflection, all anyone is able to recall about her is that she’s "a pretty girl". Obviously, she didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention to herself and become memorable.

Still, under the whiff of demon power, her aura is familiar to Blue Turtle, and retracing her steps eventually leads him to the girl herself. She is indeed a young woman from Rolling Thunder Clan who has been given a thin "don't remember me" charm as a disguise. Her name is not important; she is a virtual nonentity with very little sense of self, aside from self-indulgence and self-interest. The only salient fact that the maiden has to offer is that she had hoped to win Grey Owl for her own and hence was infuriated by Springing Doe's arrival on the scene. From jealousy and resentment, a thorn festered in her heart that the assassin was able to turn to his own account, using her as a pawn.

Smoke Cat's subtle magic entices the conceited coquette to reveal further details. Her mission was not merely to entice Star Hawk Burning into the shadows as quickly as possible, but to get close enough to him to steal his knife. This she accomplished with relative ease, she feels smug to relate, thereupon hiding the blade in a prearranged spot near the riverbank. Of course, by the time Smoke Cat Watching and Blue Turtle are able to investigate, the knife is no longer there. Someone else has it now, and means to use it, undoubtedly soon. Neither shaman can wring more information from the young woman; she does not know the killer's true identity.

Song the Wolf Calling is experiencing something new; she is losing. Historically, her matches have been quick and furious, and surprise has been her greatest asset. Now, though, she must draw out her fight with Star Hawk Burning for as long as she can, and she is beginning to tire faster than he is. It is not a pleasant reality to face.

Wolf Calling practices, naturally, yet practicing is just not the same as sparring. Only a couple of much younger girls have shown any enthusiasm about learning to fight, so the women can’t match her and, having defeated all the men who would risk their pride, apparently frightening the others, none of the men are willing to spar with her, either. So, training alone and unchallenged, Song has grown a bit lax. Unfortunately, over time, it shows.

As Wolf Calling's reflexes slow and her endurance ebbs, Smoke Cat and Blue Turtle are conferring about what to do next. They are closer to finding the killer than they were. But eliminating clan members one by one as they are accounted for is tedious, not to mention, excessively time-consuming to be feasible. It would also alarm the partiers, which is precisely what everyone involved wishes to avoid, even the culprit.

Tracing the knife from its hiding place in the hollow by the riverbank in search of whoever retrieved it has proven fruitless. It must have been the would-be murderer, though. Thankfully, the site was covert enough to prevent a curious child or clumsy adult from stumbling over the weapon. There are too many footprints overlapping there, with a full and tangled range of emotions; one malevolent person is impossible to track very far. Soon they will be totally out of options. Smoke Cat Watching begins to toy with an audacious and desperate plan, but much will depend on the endangered couple.

A few feints and retreats later, Song attempts a usually successful spin kick but midjudges her timing marginally, enabling Star Hawk to catch her ankle. His grasp on her is incomplete, a fleeting touch, yet it throws her out of balance, and she falls. Star Hawk pounces and manages to pin his opponent. "Yield," he demands of her.

"Never," she answers, struggling to squirm loose.

Looking with regret at the scrapes and bruises on her, he makes a generous offer, saying, "Fine, we'll leave the circle together. It will be a tie."

"I can't," Wolf Calling breathes in response, "I can't."

Star Hawk doesn't understand. He is slightly hurt by her rejection of his noble gesture, but more than that, he is curious. There is genuine agony in her voice at the prospect. "Why not, Wolfling?" Star Hawk Burning asks, easing his hold on her by a tiny fraction.

However, she cannot tell him in front of so many people, in case one of them might be the murderer. If the assassin knows that his attack is anticipated, he might do something rash and unplanned; the risk of that is just too terrible to contemplate.

Slipping an arm free, Song the Wolf Calling does something she hopes will disconcert Star Hawk even further than sharing with him the, admittedly astonishing, truth. In place of an answer, she reaches up, drags his face to hers, and kisses him.

With his heart reeling a little and his thoughts utterly scattered, Star Hawk considers. It is a beautiful kiss: long and soft and deep. When and where did she learn to kiss like that? But no, that’s not what he should be concerned about right now. There is something in the shadowy depths of his mind that still disturbs him, something he may have taught her himself, long ago? She is wily, his Wolfling. Almost, he thinks of it in time. Almost, he pulls back and away quickly enough to dodge her knee, but his breath whooshes out as she scores on his solar plexus instead of the original target, somewhat lower on his body.

Smoke Cat Watching knows that she is seeing the final few moments of the challenge between Wolf Calling and Star Hawk, regardless of the fact that Song has managed to free herself temporarily. From the stern faces of her father Chieftain White Bear and the elders beside him, lore-keeper Talks Over the Left clearly the iratest, as soon as Song the Wolf Calling has her wounds treated, she will be busy listening to a lecture on the… ill-advised… nature of her actions that evening. Smoke cannot count on her to delay Star Hawk Burning any longer; there is no more time to distract or investigate. She has only one plan, not even a brilliant plan, but it will have to do.

After notifying Blue Turtle Dreaming of her intentions, Smoke Cat goes to the newlyweds' tent. There is a code of scratching and stomping that all three girls used when they were younger to alert one another to the need to talk away from adult ears, and this she uses now. Within instants, Springing Doe responds and appears at the tent flap, hastily wrapped in a clinging robe of yellow silk. Nonetheless, the two young women look much alike, viewed as silhouettes in the firelight, bride and shaman, cousins and adopted sisters. Smoke Cat is counting on stretching that surface resemblance.

They all need to be very brave, but Springing Doe trusts her middle sister and shaman implicitly. She must since, according to their strategy, Smoke Cat is meant to substitute for her while she takes on the guise of ‘pretty girl’ and returns to the main group. It might raise suspicions were the captured co-conspirator to vanish altogether from public sight. Grey Owl’s part in the scheme, for now, is to pretend that no switch has occurred, and act as though he is unaware of any imminent danger. His role will become more active later. And, when her spell-crafting is finished, Smoke Cat Watching will wait passively for the assassin to make his move, wait for him to try to kill her. Hence, she prepares with utmost care.

Wearing her new disguise as ‘pretty girl’, Springing Doe returns to the main party barely in time to see her youngest and, until tonight she would have said, most impetuous, sister Song the Wolf Calling's ultimate defeat at the hands of Star Hawk Burning. He catches her against his chest with her wrists locked behind her, kisses her first this time and then, looking as pained as if she had bitten him, shoves her away and punches her, knocking her out cold. Clearly, Song cannot continue. She loses.

At this point, there is much chattering and fluctuation among the crowd, as wagers are settled, moves analyzed, and repercussions discussed. Suddenly, Springing Doe feels the chill of the flat of a knife being drawn down the back of her neck. She resists the urge to shudder and resolutely keeps smiling in front of her. This proves to be wise.

There comes a raspy, whispered laugh, harsh and unpleasant. "Smart girl not to yelp or turn around," the voice says. "Stupid girl not to make yourself useful isolating Star Hawk NOW!"

As soon as she senses that the menacing presence has gone, Springing Doe rises with a giggle and tosses her hair, slowly sauntering towards Star Hawk and her unconscious sister. It sounds more like a nervous titter to her, but it passes for normal. She runs her fingers over Star Hawk's bare arm, seeming inclined to glue herself there, forestalling his efforts to pick up Song and carry her, presumably, somewhere more secluded for the treatment of her injuries. "Go see to your own hurts," the apparent ‘pretty girl’ says unexpectedly. "I'll care for Wolfling's."

"Wolfling's?" Star Hawk queries. "My Wolfling's? I'm supposed to entrust her to you?”

Springing Doe hopes she doesn't break character by replying, "And do you think she'll be happy to see you hovering over her, after you just beat her? Literally?” She snorts. “Leave her to me. I'll be as gentle as if she were my own sister.” Strangely, he believes her. "Also, she may feel sick after coming to, and I'm sure she'd want privacy for that. Go lose yourself somewhere else along the river and clean those cuts and scrapes." Spring is not sure that this is the best solution, but neither she nor Song can keep Star Hawk in the firelight any longer, and if the killer wants them together, then she wants the opposite. Besides, she needs to update her sister so they can decide on the next measures to implement.

It doesn’t take long for Song the Wolf Calling to regain awareness. She is taken aback to see who her companion is, but Spring, still bespelled to look like ‘pretty girl’, immediately hisses urgently, “Not here; trust me, we must talk!” That suffices to convince Song that there is something vitally important about this oddity, and therefore the two young women move a short distance away from camp in silence. As Springing Doe tends her sister's wounds, she idly taps her fingers on her thigh or slides her hands together in the same rhythm as the stomp and scratch code that Smoke Cat used earlier, and Wolf Calling has no trouble recognizing it as such.

"Spring?" she barely whispers, just in on the off chance that someone is close enough to overhear. Her elder sister only nods. "What are you doing here, and looking like that?”

Springing Doe says, "Taking care of you, obviously, while Smoke Cat insists on caring for me by taking my place."

"Is that the entire plan?" Song inquires uneasily.

"It's thick with spells, but essentially, that's all of it," the bride replies. "My husband is there to help her, and Blue Turtle Dreaming laid down an extremely difficult enchantment before he left to guard the flirty, female accomplice I currently resemble. We can’t expect any further assistance from him, though, since performing the magic drained him severely."

"It’s not enough," is Song's taciturn response. "How else can we help?"

"Well, I've been thinking…" Springing Doe begins, but is interrupted by Star Hawk Burning.

"I would hope so!" he says rudely. He has not, perhaps serendipitously, followed his instructions to go and lose himself downstream somewhere, but rather trailed the pair of girls instead. The hunter can be preternaturally quiet when he focuses all his will on it. As noiselessly as the sisters had been careful to tread, neither heard so much as the rustling of grass from his footsteps. And now, Star Hawk wants explanations, starting with who stole his knife, and why!

Swiftly, the chieftain’s daughters brief Star Hawk Burning on the situation. "In short," Wolf Calling summarizes, "someone wants to use your knife to kill my sister and her new husband."

"Pointing the finger of blame straight at me," concludes Star Hawk. "How do you know all this is true?"

Now, Springing Doe answers. "As Smoke Cat's auguries have foreseen, so it has happened... thus far. We are trying to prevent the more deadly consequences."

Star Hawk Burning looks ready to go and fight again immediately, "Who? Who is so evil?"

"Someone skilled at wearing masks," Song responds.

Spring adds, “Unfortunately, we know no more at this time.”

"You'll have contingencies already in place, " Star Hawk says mainly to himself. "Don't bother with the details. Time is of the essence since we don't know when this assassin may strike. Just tell me what I can do that doesn't interfere with your plans."

The older sister again replies, "we are concerned that if he fails to kill his target, yet succeeds in escaping from the nuptial tent, he might behave erratically and commit some random, horrible crime."

"I see, yes," says Star Hawk thoughtfully. "The horses, then. You'll need someone to watch the horses in both camps. Not simply to prevent the enemy from bolting, but also to keep him from harming the animals or spooking them and forcing a stampede through the celebrating crowd like a weapon."

"Can you do that, watch either side of the river at the same time?" wonders Springing Doe.

"I can from that little knoll up there," he informs them confidently.

"May your arrows fly far and true, then, and may they not be necessary," Wolf Calling tells him, more or less as a dismissal since she wants to resume speaking alone with her sibling.

After Star Hawk Burning’s departure, Song at once returns to the prior topic. "What were you going to say before? I’m thinking about several things, but mainly the danger of the murderer getting away, combined with the fact that a tent can have doors anywhere you can make one. And a killer will surely have a sharp knife handy…"

"Yes, exactly," approves the big sister. "We could each watch a back corner and raise an alarm in that event. Also,” Springing Doe adds, “if you return to camp now, you won’t be allowed to help any further tonight. White Bear will be duty bound to hear the elders out, at least, and you know how long that could last. But if we wait, say… hidden near the wedding tent… for the other elders to get tired of standing around frowning and go to bed, we’ll only have to deal with our father’s disapproval, without an audience.”

Song the Wolf Calling grins conspiratorially. “It really is nobody else’s business, anyway.”

For Grey Owl of Rolling Thunder Clan, today has been a day of amazing experiences. First, he was married to, if not the woman of his dreams, then a girl so close that it makes no difference. But his delirious happiness has been interrupted with the intelligence that someone wants to kill his bride! And, incidentally, put an end to him, as well.

Now he is lying in his nuptial tent pretending to be asleep, his hand linked sweetly with that of another woman. Smoke Cat Watching, the Sun Horse Clan shaman, is also feigning sleep; her head is turned slightly towards him and away from the tent flap. Her whole posture practically begs to be murdered, from an assassin's point of view, with a slim triangle of moonlight falling across the bodice of her filmy... night dress, Grey Owl supposes it must be termed. He lies farther into shadow.

He wishes he knew what Springing Doe was doing at this moment. It would help his anxiousness if his wife’s safety were guaranteed simply because she’s not with him, but it isn’t. His new sister-in-law and his own shaman are doing the best they can, but nothing is ever certain. The young man also wishes he knew when the killer plans on coming. Grey Owl sternly pushes these desires from his mind and reflects on their own preparations. His presence is crucial. It is his job to actually apprehend the knife wielder. Smoke Cat has been so busy learning magic that she has given little thought to acquiring skills in physical self-defense. Experimentally, he had her try to throw a punch, and it was feeble. It is best that she remains armed and out of the way.

Smoke has poured much of her power into a single spell, designed to take Star Hawk’s stolen knife out of the equation. Rolling Thunder's shaman, Blue Turtle, has already worked a massive enchantment over the interior of the tent making it, for the next few hours, a space which renders inoperable all magic initiated once the nullification is in place. Only Smoke Cat's one incantation, cast immediately before, retains its effectiveness. Now, Blue Turtle Dreaming is exhausted and has withdrawn from the action to guard ‘pretty girl’ for the rest of the night. He has just enough strength left to keep the female pawn sequestered. However, the ‘rest of the night’ is nearly endless measured second by second. The waiting is awful.

"Not an outsider," Grey Owl whispers to Smoke Cat Watching. “I want it to be an outsider, but it’s not, is it?” She considers shushing him, yet who could tell that this wasn’t mere ordinary pillow talk from more than a few feet away?

"No. Someone would spot him," she confirms. "Invisibility would take too much energy to sustain over the course of a whole night." The shaman omits mentioning the possibility of shapeshifting. However, though a shapeshifter might be able to pass unnoticed, she is more inclined to agree with Grey Owl: not an outsider.

Time creeps by, and the party sounds begin to die down as people turn in or reach a less rowdy stage of intoxication. Periodically the two ‘sleepers’ exchange a few words or stretch to keep alert. And finally, when the stars have wheeled long paths overhead, there is the faint noise of footsteps approaching the entrance to the tent. Maybe they belong to a lost, wandering drunk... But no!

The wedge of light widens, spreading across Smoke Cat's hair, and then is blocked by someone slowly sneaking inside. In the blackness, all three take a moment to collect themselves, and then the darker silhouette glides toward the supposedly defenseless girl. It would be smarter to deal with Grey Owl first, but Smoke Cat Watching has made herself an incredibly tempting target. A knife catches the light briefly, before it plunges violently downwards. A single drop of blood wells from the woman's chest.

And then the knife simply stops. The killer's hands tremble on the hilt, but it will go no farther. Frantically, the assassin now tries pulling the blade back, but this fails as well; it is stuck fast! Smoke Cat, the weapon still attached to her like a fly in amber, swiftly kindles a lamp while Grey Owl tackles the intruder. Shadows jump crazily over the tent sides as the two men struggle, but it is soon over. Grey Owl, after all, was armed with a stout stick and didn't quail at using it.

Calmly, Smoke Cat Watching removes the knife adhering eerily to her body. "Well, old one, I certainly didn't expect you to visit us tonight," she says.

The man Grey Owl is busily tying up is one of the respected elders of Sun Horse Clan and their official lore-keeper and teller of tales, Talks Over the Left. Known for his jokes and funny stories for the children, and his ever-sober counsel in governing the clan, he has always given the impression of being a well-balanced and fulfilled individual. "If it comes to that, you were not supposed to be here, either," the bound elder retorts tartly. "My magic?"

"Cancelled,” the shaman assures him. “But, of course, you tested that already. Tell me the truth, old one, and I'll see what may be done for you," Smoke Cat Watching promises their prisoner.

"You want to know why, of course," replies Talks Over the Left, wearily.

"Yes, but first, are you working alone in this, or can we expect other... interruptions?" she demands.

"No." The elder’s evasive monosyllable earns a glower from Smoke Cat. "No,” he elaborates, “I am not alone; there is also a young woman of Rolling Thunder. However, she is irrelevant and knows nothing. So, no, there will be no more attacks." He falls silent, a bit sullenly, awaiting the next question as though this were a game.

"Why? Why would you do this?" Grey Owl blurts out, goaded beyond his limits and incapable of processing the would-be assassin’s overwhelming hatred when he barely recognizes the killer on sight.

"It is a long story young man. Are you sure you have the temperance to listen with no further violent outbursts?" the attempted murderer needles his intended victim, all suavity and false solicitude in his tone.

"Go on," his captor grits from between clenched teeth.

"Really, I hold nothing against you, boy, except for your abysmal choice of brides. But the daughters of White Bear… and yes, I've seen which way the wind is blowing regarding Wolf Calling and Star Hawk… must not be allowed to monopolize the power in this region. That this one is shaman of Sun Horse Clan is already too much," Talks Over the Left says, as if this were perfectly reasonable. The man’s swiftly changeable attitude causes Smoke Cat to wonder, not whether but for how long, his mind has been disordered.

Blinking as if dust were being blown into her eyes, Smoke Cat Watching evaluates the elder’s statement. "You'd really kill to prevent what you see as potential dynastic ambitions?" she asks. “Influence in the leadership of two tribes and in the magic and spiritual life of only one?”

"Don't be stupid, shaman. I have more respect for your intelligence." Now it is Smoke who struggles to keep her temper. “But they… you three… are the most precious treasures of your father’s heart. And White Bear must suffer as I have suffered. I lost my son to the same fever that took your mother, Smoke Cat, all because our clan leader allowed Rolling Thunder to claim the best trade route territory that year rather than fight for it. The medicine was too slow in coming. My wife practically stopped eating entirely from grief and didn’t survive the next winter. He cost me my family, as well as leaving you bereft of yours, Smoke Cat Watching. Respect for the death of your mother is the only reason I held off acting against you prior to this…"

This time the young shaman plays a waiting game; truthfully, she is aghast at the old man's stored up vitriol. Grey Owl can barely wait for more details and nearly questions him again, then, but he does not want to split the elder's attention and divert him from the tale. At last, as the grudging silence stretches on, Smoke Cat remarks, "There are many potential suspects at a wedding; you selected your opportunity well."

Talks Over the Left looks smug but also nettled. "Yes," he says, "but the coup was to deprive her father of Springing Doe just at her proudest and happiest moment."

"I see. Presumably depriving me of more family in the form of my adopted sisters isn’t a concern for you. Or was I intended to be the last victim, so that you could considerately end my sorrow?” Only the flare of Smoke Cat’s nostrils betrays her fury. “When did you plan to eliminate Wolf Calling, since waiting for another wedding would be so... unoriginal?" the shaman questions dryly.

Smoke Cat Watching doesn’t even bother to curb her sharp tongue anymore. “I’m sure you could have arranged for quite a triumph for Song tonight in the ring, if you’d expanded and strengthened the confusion on Star Hawk’s, or rather not his, knife a bit to affect all of him. Or wouldn’t a victory over the next chieftain have been a significantly proud and happy enough accomplishment to warrant her demise? Still, losing two girls in one night would have been devastating,” concludes Smoke Cat, “even if you couldn’t figure out a way to finish me off, as well.”

The old man sighs. All the rancor seems to have left him, suddenly. "It doesn't matter now," he murmurs, and slumps forward.

Outside the tent, White Bear's daughters have been standing guard... just in case… mere slips of slightly denser darkness among the tall prairie flowers. It has been a long night so far, and both are tired. Additionally, Song the Wolf Calling is beginning to get sore and stiff from her earlier bout with Star Hawk. But they have a duty to protect their people against the chance of the killer's escape.

If he gets loose, he might decide that the death of any couple, or any family, would do as well. Every so often, therefore, they switch places and smile encouragingly at each other. Suddenly there is light and a flurry of movement inside the tent. Shortly, order is restored, however, and it appears as though Smoke Cat's plan has been successful. Nevertheless, the sisters must continue watching from a distance... just in case. Wolf Calling fingers her knife. Springing Doe hopes her new husband was not hurt.

Inside the newlyweds' tent, Talks Over the Left's head is bent, so no one sees his eyes begin to glow just faintly green with demon mischief. As he has been talking, the old man has also been working at his restraints with preternatural force and agility, and as the loops of rope fall to the ground, he throws his head back with much more strength than a normal elder should possess. His crown connects with Grey Owl's jaw, and the younger man collapses, unconscious. Talks Over the Left leaps up and runs to the nearest wall. He heaves, and tent pegs go flying.

Before he dives through the opening created, though, the uncannily spry old man aims a tremendous kick at the tent's center pole, cracking it, and bringing the roof down on top of Smoke Cat Watching. This happens so fast that none of the young women immediately think to scream for help, even though that was exactly what Song the Wolf Calling and Springing Doe had been prepared to do… just in case.

As Talks Over the Left emerges from the collapsing tent, he spies a female whose face is identical to that of ‘pretty girl’ and, not caring why she is there, decides that the tool he’d previously discarded is once again useful. In two tremendous bounds he reaches the undercover Springing Doe and clutches her to him to act as a hostage and a living shield.

The second he touches Spring, however, the would-be killer identifies her aura, and grins evilly. "Even better," he says, chuckling as he jettisons the idea of physically hiding behind her. Springing Doe feels a greasiness and a shadow spread over her, and she finds it difficult to think. "Go," he orders her, "run away!" and pushes her vaguely towards the horses. Overpowered, Spring has no choice but to comply, although the effort she is making to resist is resulting in a severe migraine.

Barely an instant after that, the elder throws a spare tent peg at Wolf Calling, and sprints in her direction, now wearing the semblance of Springing Doe, just as the older girl unwillingly mimics himself. Song falls, hit in the forehead by the substantial chunk of wood and stunned. ‘Not again!’ is her last waking thought. What goes through Talks Over the Left’s mind, though, is that this is practically perfect; he has snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. One sister will take the blame for him and hopefully be executed, and the younger one will serve as a human shield until he’s well away from this place, and therefore free to kill her, too.

At that point, Smoke Cat slithers free of the partially caved-in tent, the lamp in one hand and Star Hawk's genuine knife, point sticky with a single drop of her blood, in the other. Her eyes tell her that Talks Over the Left, possibly wounded, is awkwardly shambling closer to the horses, while Springing Doe runs to aid her sister, perhaps also wounded and certainly lying on the ground. But the shaman has learned the hard way not to underestimate demon mischief and hesitates, just for a minute, to act. Meanwhile, she mutters over the barely lit lamp, and it flares up brightly again.

Wolf Calling's head hurts, she's dazed from a blow, yet there's something important that she has to do. She's not sure what or why, but she’s trying to remember. Springing Doe's head hurts, she's dazed from a spell, yet there's something important that she has to do. She's not sure what or why, but she, too, is trying to remember. Curiously, both siblings find that the lamplight helps them concentrate through the pain. Or maybe it is not so strange, since this is Shaman Smoke Cat Watching’s flame and meant to bring illumination.

The sisters have a prearranged signal, something they agreed beforehand would yield the greatest effect if the murderer should break free. No one would be taken unawares or killed in their sleep because… because… Everyone would awaken alert because… They were to yell... to yell... "Fire!" both girls shout simultaneously: the one word most designed to rouse alarm in a prairie people, where wildfires leap to consume the dry, waving grasses almost faster than one can blink. Each Tishatayo child knows that, in the steppes, especially in summer, any uncontrolled burn means virtually instant death.

"Yes," agrees Smoke Cat softly, as if the siblings had asked for her opinion or requested it from her as a gift, “fire!” And with that, she hurls the brilliantly glowing lamp at the man who resembles Springing Doe, at the only one not shouting. She might not be able to throw a punch, but objects are a different story. The hot metal strikes him squarely in the middle of his back, and the sparks catch and cling like burrs, blazing intensely and sinking into cloth and skin.

Talks Over the Left swiftly reaches Song the Wolf Calling and scoops her up from the ground. Hugging her closely, he glares furious loathing at Smoke and snarls, "Douse your flames, Hellcat, or your precious little sister burns with me."

Bitter tears well in the shaman's eyes, but she obeys the demonic old man's command. Springing Doe runs a few more steps away from the action, compelled against her will. Song, jostled fully awake, however, still has her knife. Fiercely she twists and stabs it immediately beneath his ribs and upwards; now, he is bleeding from the liver.

Sadly, this will kill him quickly, but not instantaneously. Wolf Calling accepts that she is about to die and goes limp in her captor's arms. This gives Grey Owl, just now emerging from under the tent, a clear target, and snatching Star Hawk's knife from the young shaman's slack fingers, he throws it unerringly a whisker’s width above Song’s drooping head at what seems to be his own wife's lower left shoulder; so, Talks Over the Left is bleeding from the tip of the lung, as well, and is having difficulty breathing. He abandons Wolf Calling to pluck out the knives and try to heal himself.

The old man's masking magic is wavering; one moment he is Spring and she is the elder, and the next they appear as their proper selves. He is panting and sweat pours off him, but the wounds do seal over and the internal bleeding becomes sluggish. Talks Over the Left inwardly acknowledges that his revenge is lost to him for the moment, yet his demon strength remains enough to get him to the horses and safety. Swerving on his heel, he changes trajectory and outpaces the real Springing Doe rapidly. The sparks reignite, but he doesn’t slacken in his running. Grey Owl starts to pursue the homicidal lore-keeper, however his wife calls him up short.

"No," she says, striving to focus her quickly gathering and reordering thoughts. "Star Hawk Burning." She cannot quite convey the concept yet, but Spring realizes how important it is that Grey Owl does not obstruct the other young man’s field of vision and line of fire. And just then, as if on cue, the smoldering ill-wisher and attempted murderer stumbles and crashes to the ground, feathers sprouting from his back, and the arrow tip protruding from his chest wet with heart blood. With his death, the disgraced elder's spells dissipate and vanish. Everyone rushes to see how badly Song is injured. Everyone but Smoke Cat, who walks grimly over to the corpse that housed the demon mischief.

Smoke Cat Watching looks down into the dead elder's eyes. There's no doubt that Talks Over the Left is deceased. However, the pupils of his eyes still gleam eerily green with demon magic. The young shaman had been hoping that his case wouldn't be so advanced, but he has opened a doorway that she must shut. “I am not a Hellcat, old one,” she murmurs, “nor is any being from that realm permitted here; I will not allow it!”

Children awakened by the cry of "Fire," and whose attention was drawn by the burning old man, later swear that out of his mouth and the wound in his chest, a roiling, churning darkness issued, blotting out the night with its deeper blackness. Then, however, the sparks arced up from his body, interlacing and lashing down the stirring mass with strands of light: first a few threads, to a web, to a cocoon, until finally the viscous shadow subsided and ebbed completely away. And, intriguingly enough, the children are backed up in their claims by the more fanciful adults, and those who had too much to drink.

With that unpleasant and taxing feat performed, Smoke Cat presses a hand weakly to her forehead. Her head hurts, and though she isn’t dazed she does feel faint, but she knows where her duty lies, and that her adopted sisters need her. Thankfully, Star Hawk Burning, returning from his distant knoll, is there to take her arm and guide her steps to Song the Wolf Calling's side. He, too, is acutely anxious. After all, his Wolfling was knocked unconscious twice in one night. The girl herself is holding a cool, damp cloth to her head, now, and smells slightly of scorched villain, yet her mood seems almost mellow. "It’s over?" she asks.

"And done," her sister and shaman confirms.

Chieftain White Bear prowls through the dawn of his camp. Many guests are lying rolled up in tiny tents near the bonfire of last night... the intentional fire. Fortunately, the unplanned blaze did not grow out of hand, and neither the wedding nor any lives were ruined. So, despite a disturbed and disturbing night, his people are safe, and that is good. The spirits have blessed him with strong, intelligent, and capable children. Perhaps soon he will have fine grandchildren as well. But there is time for that. Mentally, he accounts for the current locations of his daughters.

All have done well for themselves, proven themselves many times over, and are now resting in a much-deserved sleep. Springing Doe and her new husband have found a smaller, but more anonymous and intimate, tent in which to spend the remainder of their wedding night. If they are not lost in dreams, it is no one else’s business. Smoke Cat Watching, his adopted child, is curled up in her own dwelling, still just a whisper away from waking yet dropping towards deeper slumber as the sun rises. She almost insisted on tending to Song herself but was persuaded to compromise; Smoke will leave her wounded sister as another’s responsibility if they promise to fetch her at once if her aid is truly needed.

Song the Wolf Calling is the most worrisome. When Smoke Cat earlier examined her injury, the shaman proclaimed that she was lucky to have received only a glancing blow from the tossed tent peg. However, Wolf Calling will be closely monitored, just in case. Not even the most outraged elders have any desire to scold her after the motivation for her erratic behavior was made clear. At the moment, Song is drowsing in Star Hawk Burning's tent, as he has volunteered to stay awake and periodically ask the girl if she is aware of who and where she is. So far, she has always known and oddly been less exasperated with the questioning than one would think.

Star Hawk Burning is sitting cross legged at the entrance to his tent as White Bear comes abreast with him. "I hear you are entrusted with the health of my youngest girl," the chieftain says softly.

"For now," replies Star Hawk Burning, "and for now it will do. She needs time." That there is more, in his opinion, that Song the Wolf Calling needs… namely him… goes unspoken.

"Indeed, Star Hawk, it will not be easy. When she is herself again, she will say, among other things, that she let you win," Song's father says wisely. “It is her nature; my child will always push her boundaries and test you, if she is not actively a trial to you.” Nevertheless, White Bear may be grave, but he is smiling slightly, and there is nothing in the chieftain’s voice to suggest that he is discouraging Star Hawk Burning from pursuing the girl in any way. Both men recognize that she is worth the effort.

"We'll see what we will see," the young hunter philosophizes. "She went to a great deal of trouble to save my life and my honor. How can I do less?” He shrugs eloquently. “Time to wake her..."

As for the ‘pretty girl’, she will be spiritually cleansed and then cast out of Rolling Thunder Clan. But exile on the Silken Way is not the most terrible punishment that could be meted out. Her name, the gift of her identity in the tribe, has already been stripped from her since her misdeeds irreparably tarnished it; she must strive to earn another in some distant land.

Overall, as Blue Turtle Dreaming sits reflecting on events in his own camp, he is pleased with how deftly the threat was handled, although the young ones should have asked for more help, and sooner. It was not exactly what he would have done about the problem, had it been his to deal with from the beginning, and it was a close call. Yet they have learned much, hopefully, and it is a good day! Perhaps he will take a nap.