Chapter Eighteen

That night, the girls couldn’t sleep. They felt as though they were already dead. They couldn’t speak; they could hardly even think. Seconds, minutes, hours all seemed to merge into one. When at last the sun appeared through the window, and the familiar sounds and smells of the morning met their ears and nostrils, they lay still and quiet, awaiting the day’s events with a numb feeling of almost-acceptance.

They were provided with breakfast as usual, but neither of the girls wanted to eat. Meredith hardly noticed that it was a different girl who brought them the tray, and not Willow. Noon came, and so did a great commotion outside the girls’ window. Men were shouting- there must have been at least thirty of them gathered there- shrieking and calling in their strange, insipid language. At last the door of their cell was flung open and two fierce-looking men- dressed from head-to-foot in animal skins and with red pains smeared over their tanned faces- entered. They took out sharp knives and hurriedly cut the chains from the girls’ ankles before pulling them to their feet and brutally shoving them in the direction of the door. Meredith caught Katrin’s eye. Their only consolation was that they were going through with this together.

Outside, the scene was horrific. Crowds of people had gathered around a tall, wooden pole where men were piling wood and dried grass. All the men had their faces smeared with red paint, while the women wore red neckerchiefs or red ribbon in their hair. Children were crying and men were calling. The air was heavy with cruel anticipation. And overhead two vultures circled, eyeing the seen below them with glee.

The girls were pushed towards the centre of the crowd. Every pair of eyes fastened on them. Meredith looked from face to face and could find no pity or sympathy; only curiosity, hardness and in some, raw hatred. One young woman forced her way to the front of the crowd and stepped right up to Meredith. She shook her fist at her, said something which Meredith couldn’t understand and then slapped her hard across the face. Meredith’s eyes welled up with tears. Her face smarted, but it wasn’t the physical pain which made her cry. It was the pain of being treated so cruelly by a stranger, at a time when all she wanted was for someone to show her a little kindness.

Suddenly, the crowd’s attention was shifted to someone or something else. Every head turned to see what was causing such a commotion at the back of the crowd. People were shouting and pointing; a man had appeared among them who was different from the others. He was dressed in skins of a darker colour, and his tunic was intricately woven with many different patterns and colours. He wore a necklace of shark’s teeth and had long, snow-white hair which he wore in two long pleats down his back. His face was hard and unmoved, his eyes black as coal, his skin tanned and cracked like leather. Altogether he looked very imposing.

The man began to push his way forward. The crowd parted for him without hesitation. Faces now showed awe, reverence and even fear. As he drew nearer to where the girls were standing, they noticed that he was leading someone on the end of a rope. It was a young man, bare to the waist, with long, dark hair and a determined chin. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. All around him, people began to gasp and whisper among themselves. Katrin also gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

It was White Bear.

And both girls knew enough about the Indian culture to realise that the great man who was leading him and who now stood before them was the Chief of the Chinukee. He towered over them, his coal-like eyes burning into theirs. Meredith felt almost nauseated by their intensity.

At last, he pushed White Bear forward and barked out a command in a voice which was deeper than any the girls had ever heard before. It sent shivers down their spines and made their blood run cold.

The crowd hushed to a dead silence. Then White Bear spoke up. His eyes were blazing, his fists clenched. In the language of the Chinukee he spoke a few words to the bewildered crowd, then turned to Katrin and Meredith.

“I told you,” he began, “that according to Nahkumetekah, a person who is guilty of kidnapping must be put to death. But what I did not tell you is that a person may go free if someone offers to take their place. Since I am the Son of the Chief, I have the right to offer myself as a substitute for both of you.”

Katrin stared, aghast. Meredith lowered her gaze.

“But... but why? Why would you do that for us?” Katrin asked, quietly.

“I have the right to do as I please,” said White Bear, with an air of authority.

He then nodded at the men who were holding Katrin and Meredith. They suddenly released their grip and Katrin fell to her knees, her face white with grief, her whole body trembling. Why? She asked herself. Why was he doing this? At first she had been a bit dubious of White Bear, but now she felt quite differently about him. After all, it was he who had saved her life. And now he was doing it again.

She weakly pulled herself back up onto her feet. Looking desperately at Meredith and at the people around her, she realised that she had to get away. She could not watch this boy die for her sake. She hurled herself into the crowd and fought her way through to the other side. Then she ran. Ran as fast as she could, away from Meredith, away from White Bear. Away from everything.

It seemed like all she ever did was run away from things. Meredith though she wasn’t scared of anything. She had tried to tell herself that she wasn’t scared of anything. But really, she spent most of her life running away from the things she was scared of.

And now she was frightened- very frightened. She had never felt so lost, so confused. Not even the relief of being set free was enough to comfort her.
At last, she collapsed in a heap by the side of an old, stone well which was quite apart from the village, and cried. All the trauma of the last few days came pouring out in the torrent of her tears. There was no-one to comfort her; she had to face her grief alone.

When at last she could cry no more, she stood to her feet. She was thirsty; she would take a drink from the well before deciding what to do next.

It was an old-fashioned well with a wooden bucket and rope pulley, and it took her a moment to work out how to use it. When at last she did succeed in lowering the bucket and drawing it back out again, her attention was caught by something floating on the water’s surface.

She picked it out. It was a large purple feather, larger than any feather she had ever seen before. She wondered what kind of bird it had come from. Perhaps an eagle. Maybe even a golden eagle.

She let the bucket slide back into the well and sat down with the feather. It must have come from one of the Indians’ headdresses. Funny; so far she hadn’t seen any of the Chinukee wearing feathers, let alone purple ones...

Then the penny dropped. But it felt more like a heavy weight dropping than a penny. It hit her with such force that something like electricity went right through her body and literally sent her springing into action. She had no time to lose. How fast was it possible for her to run? She was about to find out...

Her legs seemed to move on their own accord as she made for the place where the crowd was gathered. She knew that White Bear’s life depended on her getting there in time. Faster, faster, she pounded the air with her fists and gritted her teeth together. The warm wind blew dust into her face as tall grass, bushes and then mud-huts flew past her on either side. How far had she come? Surely it could not be far now...

Suddenly the top of the pole came into view. Dark-grey smoke was swirling around and above it, and the smell of it met her nostrils.

“Oh no!” she cried, running all the harder. “I hope I’m not too late...”

She turned a corner and found herself at the back of the crowd. It appeared to have doubled in size, and the people had broken out into a riot. The noise of it was deafening. Katrin’s heart sunk to her boots as she saw White Bear being tied to the stake and two men beginning to light the grass at the bottom with torches.

“Stop!” cried Katrin at the top of her voice, as she shoved her way into the crowd. “You’ve got to stop! I’ve found some evidence to prove we’re not guilty!”

Some heads turned but the majority ingnored her as she tried to push her way to the front.

“Let me through!” she pleaded, trying to make herself heard above the din. “Let me speak to the Chief!”

Eventually the crowd made way for her and she hurried over to where the Chief was standing, arms crossed, his expression cold and seemingly unmoved. She held up the purple feather for him to see.

“Look!” she cried, waving it in his face. “I found it in the well. It must have belonged to those other Indians, the Inukhuh. It was them who kidnapped the baby... not us!”

The Chief stared at her blankly. It was obvious he did not understand.

“The feather!” cried Katrin, waving it all the harder. “From the Inukhuh! They took the baby- not us!” She rocked her arms as though she were cradling a child in an attempt to make him understand.

Suddenly the Chief’s expression altered. He laid a large, thick hand on Katrin’s shoulder and hurriedly barked out a series of commands in a voice which was even louder than before. Immediately the men who had been lighting the grass stopped what they were doing; several others hurried away and returned, seconds later, with buckets of water. To the crowd’s astonishment, they began to throw the water over the fire and over the torches.

A few buckets later, the fire was put out altogether.

It was the Chief himself who walked over to the stake, took out a knife and cut the rope from his son’s wrists and ankles. White Bear- his face pale and worn- fell gladly into his father’s embrace.