"And I will always love you," Redbird said. Her voice was a croak, as if she had not spoken in days.
She turned to Yellow Hair. "Now he will live."
Laughing and crying at once, Yellow Hair thanked Redbird again and again in their common language, calling on her God to bless Redbird.
Bless me? But what of that man in the mine?
"Give White Bear the tea of elm bark now. Later, little food, only little," Redbird said. "Easy-eat food. Hominy good. Later, soup with meat."
Yellow Hair eagerly agreed.
"Must sleep," said Redbird. She slurred her words, too worn out to speak clearly.
She could lie down in another room, Yellow Hair said, leading her away from the canopied bed where the weeping grandfather bent over White Bear, holding him by his shoulders.
"I gone many days?" Redbird asked.
Yellow Hair's deep blue eyes widened. She shook her head at the word "days." She assured Redbird that she had been silent only for an instant. She had been singing, then she closed her eyes, and a moment later when she opened them again, White Bear had opened his. Yellow Hair hugged her so hard it hurt her.