A woman's voice cried, "The pale eyes squaw is not for you, Wolf Paw. I will not have her in my wickiup." Running Deer, the older of Wolf Paw's two wives, strode up to Wolf Paw, thrusting her face into his. Behind her came Burning Pine, the younger wife, a papoose strapped to her back, looking equally determined.
"My wives will do as I say," Wolf Paw grumbled, but there was no strength in his voice.
Burning Pine said, "Your wives and children are hungry. We are eating roots and bark. We have no food for any pale eyes."
For now, Black Hawk's band was hidden away on an island of dry ground in the heart of a great marsh north of the headwaters of the Rock River, well into the Michigan Territory. But there was scarcely any game or fish here, and they could not stay in this place much longer.
Wolf Paw said, "I have brought cattle."
"Then the people will eat well because of my husband," Running Deer said. "But the pale eyes woman will not need to eat." Running Deer turned to the crowd. "Many women lost their husbands in Wolf Paw's raid. It is right that the women avenge themselves on this pale eyes."
White Bear's back crawled with gooseflesh. Running Deer meant for the women of the band to torture Nancy to death.
For as long as they could make her pain last, it would take their minds off their hunger and sickness and sorrow. And their own fear of death.
It must not happen. But how could he prevent it?
Feeling like a drowning man being swept away on rapids, White Bear watched Running Deer and Burning Pine lift Nancy from the ground and carry her off, with her feet dragging. Wolf Paw and most of the braves who had returned with him followed.