Sobbing and clutching her baby, Redbird watched the orange sun disappear behind the pointed treetops on the western shore of the little lake. She thought, Iron Knife, so strong and always there when she needed him, must be gone. Her two sisters and their new husbands, probably dead.
The people mourned, some sitting on the ground, some walking about distractedly, some standing, holding each other.
And now Eagle Feather was stricken. She could not get the chill out of her body.
When it was dark she relit her fire. Floating Lily woke and cried, and Redbird held her to her breast. Then she crawled under her lean-to to look at Eagle Feather. His eyes were still shut. He had not moved since his outcry, and his breathing was shallow.
I cannot bear this. Eagle Feather lying as if dead, White Bear vanished, most of my people dead.
Why have I been spared to suffer so?
Black Hawk began to mourn aloud for his lost people:
"Hu-hu-hu-u-u-u-u ... Whu-whu-whu-u-u-u-u ..."
The rest of the people joined in the wailing. Redbird noticed that Wave and He Who Lights the Water cried out, too, and tears ran from their eyes. She liked them for joining the mourning.
Owl Carver was sitting beside her, holding the hands of weeping Wind Bends Grass. His own features, as much of them as she could see in the twilight, were still and drawn, shrunken by sorrow.