As Willow Wand grew taller, the time came when she thought of wedding. Young Fir Tree, the most daring of the young braves, loved her, and Willow Wand knew that she loved him. And when Fir Tree went to old Chief Seafog, Willow Wand went with him, which made it not difficult for them to receive the old man’s blessing. 70
So on one brilliant day in Indian summer, Fir Tree and Willow Wand were married. The fallen leaves danced at their wedding feast and the blue mists of autumn were the bridal veil. Every one was as happy as an Indian could be. And in the starlight, Fir Tree took Willow Wand to his tepee. He brought a great buffalo robe from the tent and spread it on the hillside, and they sat down close together and looked up at the stars.
“I love you, my brave Fir Tree,” said Willow Wand.
Fir Tree put his arm about her. “And I love you, my little Willow Wand,” he said. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. I would not have you like the rest. They are good; they grind the corn; they do the work, but their faces are like stones. Yours is full of secrets and lovely memories. What makes you so different, my love?”
“My secret, Fir Tree. My father says that a woman’s secret is her beauty.”
“But a woman must tell her secret to her love,” and Fir Tree looked off into the distance.
“Willow Wand must not tell her secret even to her love,” she said very, very softly.
“You cannot trust me nor love me then, Willow Wand,” said Fir Tree, growing stiff and cold.
“I love you, Fir Tree. I will tell you my secret.”
Fir Tree continued to look off in the darkness, but he bent his head a little so that he might not miss anything she said.