Margaret woke up with a feeling in her stomach she knew all too well. Stretched out on a bed made of buffalo hide, she uttered a groan, then softly rubbed her belly in hopes of lessening the pain. The nasty cramps in her lower stomach told her it was that time of the month, and forcing herself upward, reached for her deer hide dress. After slipping into it she gathered the buffalo hide into her arms, which had been soiled by her menstrual blood. By this time Singing Voice had awakened as well, and noticing that Margaret held the buffalo hide, curiously eyed her.
“What happened?” She asked in Lakota.
Feeling slightly sheepish, Margaret lowered her eyes. But Singing Voice had already noticed the stain, and quickly slipped into her buckskin dress before joining Margaret’s side. Taking the buffalo hide from Margaret, she placed it back on the ground. Then gently she took the black woman’s hand into her own.
“Come,” she said to Margaret, then led the way out of their dwelling.
Singing Voice walked quickly and with purpose, as if they had somewhere very important to be. Clearly in a rush, the Lakota woman continued along, making a path for an area where Margaret had never been before.
As they cut through a grassy field, Margaret spotted Dancing Wolf. Kneeling next to a cream-colored horse, he was painting a symbol on the animal’s legs. Creating a zig-zag pattern with bold, bright yellow paint, Dancing Wolf skillfully created the design, which looked to Margaret to be lightning bolts. Shifting her gaze to the horse’s face, she noticed there was a symbol around his eye, as well. It was a blue ring which fully encircled it, and she guessed it had something to do with the horse’s vision. Enthralled by the sight she continued to stare, taking in the beauty of the majestic horse.
Just as gorgeous as his animal, Dancing Wolf worked attentively, his back muscles rippling beneath the reddish-brown tint of his skin. With the sun already out he was lightly perspiring, which made his skin glisten in a way that really caught her eye.
Admiring the way he so beautifully adorned his horse, she couldn’t help wondering what the symbols meant, and as they came closer to the Lakota warrior and his horse, Margaret gave him a soft smile. Returning her gaze he smiled and nodded, but as she reached out to touch the horse, he spoke out sternly.
“Heyah – No!”
On his feet in a mere second, he blocked the horse with his body while giving Margaret a serious look.
“Isnati, isnati!” Singing Voice excitedly said to Margaret, then pressed her hand firmly on Margaret’s back to hurry her along.
With so many words she still had yet to understand, Margaret furrowed her brows in utter confusion, then looked to Dancing Wolf as if for explanation. But his features were still set in a very serious expression, eyes focused keenly on her as he continued to guard his horse.
Startled at the way his eyes had suddenly changed color, she noticed they were now gray.
Not a flat gray either, but a piercing gray, seeming to penetrate her soul in a way she could actually feel. Shocked and hurt all at once, Margaret gave Dancing Wolf a pained look, but all he did was continue to watch her, only turning his back once she was out of reach.
Not understanding why he hadn’t wanted her to touch his horse, she swallowed a lump, steps heavy with distress as she continued along. She’d done something wrong, not only to him, but to the encampment as a whole. Why else was she being brought away from the others, especially first thing in the morning, when it was customary to bathe and eat, then begin her duties? Something was up and she could feel it, which made an empty feeling come into her stomach.
It took another five minutes before they reached a creek in a shaded area, and noticing a large tipi with rocks encircling it, Margaret came to realize that she was being moved. Perplexed as to why her expression went slack, gaze shifting around as if to somehow find answers. There were many questions she was desperate to ask, but her vocabulary was limited, so it made it hard for all the words to come out. Doing her best to retrieve them, she awkwardly spoke in broken Lakota.
“What is this?” She managed to say, eyes shifting from the tipi to Singing Voice’s face.
“Your moon time,” The Lakota woman said back. “Here you will be with others going through the same.”
“Moon time?” Furrowing her brows, Margaret waited for further explanation.
“Isnati,” Singing Voice said, but the look on Margaret’s face let her know that the runaway slave hadn’t yet learned the word.
Stopping just beside the creek, Singing Voice place her hand on Margaret’s lower stomach. Then with a downward motion of her hand, pantomimed something flowing out.
“We tankal – blood out -.”
Nodding slowly, Margaret finally got what she was saying.
“You, on your moon,” Singing Voice continued. “This place, isnatipi.”
Pointing toward the large tipi görükle escort just across the creek, she said it again.
“Isnatipi.”
Margaret stared at the tipi, then back at Singing Voice with an uneasy look.
“Isnati,” she said, while placing her hand against Margaret’s tummy.
“Isnati tankal.”
Menstrual blood, Margaret thought, then nodding at Singing Voice she fully got it. This tipi was a place where menstruating women came to bleed. Seeing that Margaret finally understood, Singing Voice removed her moccasins, then hiked up her dress and stepped into the creek, before venturing across it and to the other side. Doing the very same, Margaret stepped in as well. Ice cold it gently bubbled, flowing over rocks and further downstream.
Light gurgling noises came from the crystal clear water, which was deep enough to reach their knees. Once finally across the water, they stepped back onto land and into their moccasins. Then with Singing Voice leading the way, headed straight for the tipi which awaited.
Entering first was the Lakota woman, with the runaway slave girl just behind her.
And as Margaret fully entered the buffalo-hide-enclosed-dwelling, she took in her surroundings with a curious gaze. Roomy and cozy all at once, she noticed there were animal skins on the ground. Cushions made out of fox skins stuffed with grass served as pillows, while back rests made of willow posts served a function similar to chairs. Small woven rugs hung along the tipi walls, as well as utensils used for cooking.
Three women were seated inside, one thoughtfully at work drying sage leaves, while two others were painting clay pots. Clearly the elder of the group was a fourth woman, who sat at a loom weaving a blanket. Well past her reproductive years, Margaret guessed she was the leader, the one who provided support and guidance for women who came into the tipi.
Glancing away from the blanket she was currently creating, the elderly woman nodded at Margaret, who nodded right back and softly smiled. Shifting her eyes to the other three women, Margaret noticed they hardly looked her way, let alone even smiled to try and welcome her. Looking back at Singing Voice, Margaret silently let her know that this wasn’t where she wanted to be. But of course she had no choice and Singing Voice knew that, so offering a soft, warm smile, let Margaret know that it would be okay. Taking Margaret by the hand, Singing Voice led her closer to the elder, who gave Margaret a look that was kind and reassuring.
“Welcome, I am glad to see you,” the elder said to Margaret. “I am called Good Blanket Woman.”
“Hello,” Margaret replied. “Good morning, it is good to be here.”
Pleased by the black woman’s pronunciation of Lakota, the elderly woman shifted her gaze to Singing Voice.
“She already knows our words?”
“Only a little,” the nineteen year old Lakota woman said. “You can teach her more while she is here.”
“Yes”, she said while gently nodding. “Her name I do not know, but among the elders we like to call her, The One Who Belongs To Dancing Wolf.”
“She is known by the name of the master who used to own her,” Singing Voice said.” It is a strange word to make with the tongue, so I do not like to speak it. But Dancing Wolf and Makawee have agreed to give her a new one.”
“Beautiful girl.” Eyeing Margaret with a thoughtful gaze, Good Blanket Woman checked out her thick long hair, then her richly pigmented skin, before once again looking to Singing Voice. “Has Dancing Wolf not yet made her his lover?”
Offering a shrug, Singing Voice thought for a moment before responding. “I have not yet seen her go into his tipi during the night. “He seems to be waiting, but for what, I do not understand.”
A thoughtful noise came from the elderly woman’s mouth, and after a moment of contemplation she began to speak. “My grandson does not rush into anything, but I have seen how he looks at her. In his own time, he will decide what is right for him.”
“Yes,” Singing Voice said, then briefly looked at Margaret before speaking again. “It’s her first moon time since she has arrived in our camp, so I have brought her to learn from you.”
“This is good,” Good Blanket Woman responded.
“You will teach her a craft, maybe tell her some stories?”
Dancing Wolf’s grandmother nodded in agreement. “She can learn the basics of blanket weaving, take in some culture through the tales that I’ll share.”
“Good,” Singing Voice said, then briefly glanced at Margaret, who just curiously watched on. “Dancing Wolf wants very much for her to speak with him in Lakota, so you can teach her more while she is here.”
“Learning our language is very important,” the old woman said. “I will give her lessons, help her understand so she becomes more fluent.”
“Then this time here will be good for her.” Taking Margaret’s hand into her own, Singing Voice gently squeezed it before letting it go. “I will leave her with bursa escort bayan you with now.”
Having only been able to capture bits and pieces of what the women had said, Margaret looked to Singing Voice with an uneasy glance. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel safe because she did, but she was still getting to know everyone else in the tribe. Both Singing Voice and Makawee had become friends to her already, so being around others she wasn’t familiar with wouldn’t be so easy to deal with.
“I must go now,” Singing Voice announced to Margaret, before adding some reassuring words. “You will be fine, relax. And when your moon time is done, I will return to bring you back.”
Understanding enough to know that her friend would indeed return, Margaret offered a nod and then weakly smiled, before watching Singing Voice leave the tipi. Only once she was out of sight, did she shift her gaze, looking at the old woman who was now standing up.
“Follow.” A simple phrase she knew the girl would understand, Good Blanket Woman led the way out of the tipi.
On reaching the creek she gestured for Margaret to undress, then step into the ice cold water. With a bar of deer tallow soap in one hand, Margaret cleansed herself thoroughly, then rinsed off the silky, bubbly lather. Rather than put on the same dress she had just stripped out of, she was given a new one, which was very soft and made of newly tanned animal hide.
Although similar in style to the one that she usually wore, this particular dress had images of the moon painted upon it. She had just slipped into it when the elderly woman began to sage her, and having been shown by Makawee how to properly smudge herself, fanned the swirls of smoke into her face and all along her body.
With Margaret now bathed and purified, the two women headed back into the tipi, where they both kneeled down on the floor cushions. Clearly shifting into teach-mode, Good Blanket Woman grabbed a piece of animal hide which resembled a breechcloth, except it was shorter and covered less skin.
Placing a thick layer of moss along the surface which would touch her sex, she created a makeshift pad, then gave it to Margaret to put it on. The belt-like undergarment nearly fit perfectly against her crotch, and Margaret immediately understood that the thick layer of moss would catch her blood. Lowering herself to one of the cushions on the ground, she settled comfortably against it, which was filled with a mixture of grass and buffalo hair.
Now feeling more relaxed, Margaret’s gaze went to the fire pit, which was a circle of rocks that surrounded a pile of kindling twigs. A clay pot sat right on top of it, releasing a scent that made Margaret’s stomach rumble. She didn’t need to speak a word, as Dancing Wolf’s grandmother knew she was hungry, and in seconds Margaret had a bowl of bone broth soup warming her hands.
Thick pieces of marrow were added in for extra flavor, and not wasting a moment, she eagerly dug in. Spooning it hungrily into her mouth she greatly enjoyed it, loving the flavorful, thick broth which coated her tummy with a nourishing fat. She even sucked on the bones as well, getting as much of the marrow out as she could.
With breakfast now over, Margaret was shown how to loom, and with keen attention watched as the elder gracefully worked the material into an intricate pattern. Woven from a mixture of softened tree bark and thin strips of deer hide, the blanket she created was only half done, but Margaret could already make out what an intricate pattern it truly was. Every now and again Margaret was given the chance to weave too, and with painstaking effort did her best to continue the pattern which had already been created.
Hours passed but Margaret didn’t notice, and after reaching a stopping point which they would come back to later, the elder gestured to a bowl of herbs, which needed to be made into poultices and teas.
As they worked, words of Lakota left the elders mouth. Some of the words were understood immediately by Margaret, while others were accompanied by animated motions. Knowing the names of all the herbs they worked with, Margaret had knowledge of what they were for. She had prepared them for medicinal use back on the plantation, and with her grandparents passing down the knowledge which had been given to them, Margaret had assisted in healing dozens and dozens of overworked slaves.
Taking note of the way that Margaret crushed, chopped, and pulverized, Dancing Wolf’s grandmother keenly watched on, both surprised and pleased that the girl knew what she was doing. Not much instruction was needed in this area at all, and it made her curious as to where the girl had picked up the knowledge to make medicine like a Lakota.
“Very good.” Speaking in Lakota, the elder pointed to the herbs that Margaret was making into a paste. “Your hands make good medicine, I can tell. You are of value to our tribe.”
Filled with warmth at the compliment, Margaret bursa escort smiled, then spoke slowly in broken Lakota.
“Grandparents taught. Know many herbs, how to heal. Like to help sick become well.”
“This is good, to have that talent. Our Creator makes the healing through your hands.”
Agreeing with a nod, Margaret kept on working, and soon they had several bowls of herbs all ready and waiting. While some would be dried others would be boiled, or made into pastes or pressed out to extract the oil. Her nostrils took in the scent of each, some sweet and aromatic while others were pungent and woodsy.
Dancing Wolf’s grandmother said the names of each herb as they worked, so that Margaret knew what they were called in Lakota. Somewhere along the way they fell into conversation again, and as Margaret listened, Good Blanket Woman began asking some questions.
“Your people” she began, pulverizing the roots of a plant which would later be used as a salve, “from which place do they come?”
“Texas,” Margaret replied, before adding more words to explain even further. “I was sold from my parents at age twelve.”
Finding this concept of selling a human being rather strange, Good Blanket Woman wanted to know more.
“Sold to do what? And your parents, do they still live?”
“I do not know,” she simply replied.
With so many Lakota words she still needed to learn, Margaret had a hard time properly expressing just what had happened before her escape. She wanted to share and grow closer with the elderly woman, but with her knowledge of Lakota so limited, it would be difficult to get it all across.
Understanding the language barrier, Dancing Wolf’s grandmother knew the best way was through the power of touch, which would allow her to view some images. So holding out her hand for Margaret to take it, she gently made a suggestion.
“I will look, if you let me.”
Suddenly recalling how she had been certain that Dancing Wolf read thoughts, Margaret came to realize that he did, which meant that his grandmother had the same gift. For a moment she was a little uncertain, as she wasn’t really sure about doing it this way.
But until she learned to speak the language more fluently, it only made sense. Gazing deep into the elderly woman’s eyes she only saw kindness, and knowing she possessed a spirit which was filled with peace, Margaret placed her palm into Good Blanket Woman’s.
* * * *
As the girl’s palm met with her own, Good Blanket Woman received a flash, coming in as a violent, white jolt. Suddenly the past was the present, playing out right before her as if she were actually there…
Burning sun. A throng of people. Then she saw Margaret, on an auction block. Young, frightened, and small from malnourishment, she trembled.
A sea of pink-skinned faces stared at her. Men leered and their women stared icily, while eyeing the shackles which bound her ankles. Like an animal, she was on display. The heat of the sun gave no mercy and little Margaret was sweating, ashamed of the stink that she gave off.
Her tongue felt swollen, so thick in her mouth as she was suffering from thirst. Then suddenly she was taken off the block, sharply jerked by a chain connected to her neck. A quick glance at her parents was all that she got, as they stayed behind to be sold off as well. Her mother’s eyes were filled with sorrow, dark with a crushing despair.
Helpless to do anything, her father lowered his head and wept. Spirit broken and masculinity stolen he hid his eyes, posture slumped as chin dipped to his chest. Tears streamed down Margaret’s face as she was taken away, then shoved roughly into a cage for transport…
Almost immediately another vision came in, brightness thick and so intense, Good Blanket Woman was temporarily blinded. Seconds passed before she could fully see, and as images came forth, the elder focused intently.
There was pain, cruelty, thins that Good Blanket Woman did not want to see. She saw a younger version of Margaret passed out from pain, and then there was nothing but blackness…
Wincing, recovering from the flash, Good Blanket Woman let go of Margaret’s hand. Eyes moist with emotion, she gazed at the young woman for several long moments. Then taking her into a hug, whispered some words right into her ear.
“My heart hurts badly for all they have done to you.”
The statement was simple but Margaret deeply felt it, and returning the hug, she swallowed a lump. By the time they pulled back, Good Blanket Woman had fully wet eyes, and having noticed this, the three women who sat off to themselves came forth.
“You are crying,” one of them said. “What has happened to make you this way?”
“I saw pictures of what happened to her.” Nodding at Margaret, Good Blanket Woman was holding her hand. “She had much sadness before coming to our people. Her spirit was harmed in a terrible way.”
Gazing at Margaret with curious expressions, the three Lakota woman did not know what to say. So retreating back to their spot from which they came, they resumed the crafts which they had been doing.
“This man, the one who you used to call Master… “
Waiting for Good Blanket Woman to continue, Margaret gently nodded.