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panting. His heart thundered in his chest, and his body was moist with sweat. The moon was still high in the sky. He lay motionless on his sleeping mat and listened to the crickets sing, as the light breeze clapped the leaves together. The nightmare still vivid in his mind, he tried to abandon the awful memories and think of something else—something peaceful.
    Had he been anyone else, peace might've come easy. But for him, a slayer of women and men, there was no such thing. He hunted with purpose, for a promise made. And he'd do whatever was necessary to fulfill it.
    He thought of the man who hired him to kill the witkowin , the crazy woman and his lips thinned. The wasichu was evil, like his father. They both had the empty stare but one still walked this earth.
    He sat up and struggled for a breath that wasn't paired with a sharp pain in his ribs. As he stretched his strong arms above his head, his back seized and spasms shook his whole body. The muscles didn't recuperate after the last time. The wounds had healed, but the flesh was a mangled, deformed mess. Rigid and raised the scars drew a grotesque pattern on his back and sides.
    He traced a long, bevelled scar down his forearm. He would never forget the pain he'd endured. It intoxicated him and afterward he felt delusional. Full of angst and fear wondering if he was ever going to escape the dreadful memories of the life he'd been thrust into. He grabbed his shirt. Within the vacant eyes of the forest he went without one. When living among the wasichu , he never took it off.
    He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair to untangle it. A fingertip caressed the eagle feather tied on the side, and his chest seized. I promise.
    Wakina neighed and stomped a hoof, and Otakatay came alert. He grabbed his knife, rolled to the side and in two quick, soundless strides was behind a tree, waiting. He heard a branch snap, and then another and another. He raised his blade.
    A deer pranced through the campsite and stopped at the bushes on the other side. The large buck stared straight at him.
    He lowered his knife.
    The deer bolted, disappearing into the trees.
    "You should've known it was a helpless deer," he said to Wakina.
    The horse turned his head, ignoring him.
    He smiled and dug into his saddle bag for an apple. He sliced the shiny red globe in half, gave one piece to Wakina and took a bite out of the other.
    The horse didn't even chew it, but swallowed the fruit whole.
    "You, my friend, are a glutton."
    Wakina bowed his gray head and nudged Otakatay's hand for more of the apple.
    "I don't think so." He held up the fruit. "This is mine."
    After he finished his half of the apple, he picked up a few dry branches and brought them to the pile of ash near his bed roll. Once he had the wood smoking he blew on it to fuel the fire. Satisfied with the height of the flames, he gutted and cooked the fish he'd caught yesterday.
    Leaning against his saddle, he picked at the trout on his plate. The moon made its descent. The sky changed to orange and yellow as the first rays of dawn shone down.
     
    Nora woke early and prepared some coffee. She added two more tablespoons of the grounds to make it extra strong. Pa had been out late the night before and lay slumped over the sofa. One arm dangled to the floor, while the other was tucked under his chest. She checked the tin in the cupboard above the stove. The money was gone. There had been thirty dollars in there. He'd taken it to gamble and drink, again.
    Her face heated as anger raced through her veins. They were never going to have their own place if he continued on like this. Now with all their money gone, how would they survive until the end of the month?
    She checked the cupboards, cornmeal, yeast, baking soda, one jar of fruit, one jar of meat and nothing more. She was thankful for her garden, but that wouldn't feed them for long. The garden was planted for the purpose of supplementing their meals. With no meat and no money the