Chief Joseph was returned to our lines that morning, exchanged for an eager-beaver lieutenant who had fallen into our hands the day before. Joseph spent the next hour or two in quiet talk with the remaining war leaders. And we waited.

I made myself some dinner that night. I rinsed out my half of a tin cup, put a handful of flour in it, stirred in some muddy water and drank the concoction. It could have used some salt. I spent the rest of the evening shivering and blowing on my hands for warmth.

The children were quiet this night, too exhausted and hungry to complain. They crowded close together, their eyes full of confusion. Poor things. Their ponies were gone, their warrior-fathers dead or missing. They had nothing left but the rags they sat in.

I perked up when the sharpshooters came down from the firing pits. I strained my eyes to see if Hawk was one of them. I had nearly given up looking when he came into the tunnel, muddy and his hair matted in one clump. He leaned on Poker Joe’s rifle. As I came closer, I saw that his leg was bloody. Wordless, I took his gun and eased him down.

He closed his eyes and almost but not quite smiled. “I knew you would be here,” he said, sounding almost as content as if he had come in from tending the stock and wanted his dinner. I suppose I could have joked and said something stupid like, “I just got back from shopping and found the most wonderful pair of shoes,” but no. I leaned against his shoulder and savored his muddy, bloody, stinking presence, because he was Hawk and I loved him.

I wanted to blurt out that my name couldn’t possibly be Bright Star because of the exploding shells, and it was all a mistake, but I knew I had no business loading my childish, selfish problems on his shoulders. A bigger matter loomed, obviously.

I looked around for something to bandage his leg. I finally resorted to pawing through someone’s possessions and found a bolt of cloth that must have come from the government stockpile at Cow Island. It was a gorgeous, impractical hunk of lavender brocade probably destined for obscurity on some post trader’s shelf. Goodness knows what use anyone would ever find for it.

I unrolled a yard or so until I found clean fabric. Using a knife nearby, I hacked off a portion and hurried back to Hawk, who was alert and watchful. There was no overlooking his sigh when he saw me, which gratified my heart.