Chapter One
Mahpee woke in the small isolated cabin with Brave Flower in his arms. He breathed deep, taking in the scent of her hair and adoring the faint flowery smell.
She stirred, and he tightened his hold. Not wanting to let her go.
It was early, the forest birds singing loud and over one another, the dawn light was milky as it snuck into the cabin.
They’d made love only once. For her first time, that was enough. Mahpee could have gone for another few entries into her sweet little body, but the last thing he wanted was for her to be sore or exhausted today.
Tonight they’d enjoy each other again. He had some new things to teach her and he was sure she’d be happy for the lessons.
Ouray and Faith were moving around outside, and after a few minutes, Mahpee got the urge to check on them. He lived by instinct and was used to following it.
Carefully, he unwound himself from Brave Flower. She was naked and curled up, her small breasts slanted, her delicate pink nipples soft now.
He tucked the blanket up to her chin then straightened it to make sure her tiny feet were covered. He stood and slipped from the cabin.
He stretched, arms above his head and spine arching, and surveyed the clearing.
The horses grazed, the river continued its gurgling journey, and the fires smoked despite the flames having died down long ago.
Naked, he gathered firewood, checking the gloomy tree line. All seemed in order. It had been a quiet night on the mountain with no visitors to their little corner.
After stoking the fires, he patted Ouray and Faith, happy they were well, then wandered down to the river.
The water was snow-cold on his warm feet, but he ignored that and went deeper into the calm section he’d seen Brave Flower pleasuring herself in.
That wouldn’t happen for him—as the icy temperature circled his balls, he gasped and they retreated into his body. In one quick drop, he dunked under, completely.
He stayed there, running his hands over his hair and around his torso. The creek near his tepee wasn’t as fast flowing, cold, or deep as this one. He considered it a morning treat to both chill and cleanse his body this way.
He burst upward, sending a spray of splashes as far as the bank.
“What a way to start the day.”
He turned at Brave Flower’s voice. “You’re awake.”
“I am.” She nodded at the canopy. “The birds saw to that.”
He chuckled. “That is the way. When they wake up, so do we.”
“It’s cold. The river.”
“Yes. Join me.” He nodded at the blanket she had wrapped around herself. He hoped she was still naked beneath.
She appeared to think about it for a second or two, then released the material.
It pooled at her feet, and he drank in the sight of her. Her soft curves, the delicate shape of her breasts, the fuzz of dark hair at the junction of her thighs. And her skin, so white and perfect, untouched—the same way she had been until the night before…by him.
Suddenly, he didn’t feel so cold in the groin region anymore and he gripped his growing cock.
“Mahpee!” A deep voice boomed from beyond the horses. “You are called upon.”
He stared past Brave Flower, Faith, and Ouray. “Hinto? Is that you?” He spoke in Chochmi.
It was Hinto, and he strode from the shadows, boots sending up puffs of dust and his bow bouncing on his back. His face was dark, eyebrows pulled low, and he had an air of urgency about him.
“Oh!” Brave Flower stooped and grabbed the blanket. She slung it around herself, her cheeks reddening as she gripped it at her throat with both hands, covering her body again.
Hinto’s attention went from Mahpee to Brave Flower. His gaze dropped down to her bare ankles and back up again.
That irked Mahpee. “What do you mean? Called upon?” He spoke so Brave Flower could understand him.
“Exactly that.” Hinto turned to him. “The Elders wish to speak to you.”
“Why?” Mahpee strode from the water, his cock deflating now it seemed any morning fun with Brave Flower had evaporated.
“Yas, he returned at first light with news,” Hinto said.
“What news?” Mahpee squeezed the water from his hair then banged his hands on his hips.
“I don’t know, he went straight to the Elders.” Hinto tutted. “Put some clothes on.”
* * * *
Hinto watched a dripping Mahpee walk past him toward the cabin. He had a string of red crescents on his ass cheeks. Fingernail marks, Hinto would bet.
So it didn’t take him long to mate with the pale face woman. No wonder he hadn’t been home to camp.
“Who…who are you?” the woman in question asked, a note of apprehension in her tone.
“Hinto.” He banged his bare chest, jangling the beads that hung there. “Of the Chochmi tribe.”
“The same as Mahpee?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded low and deep after her soft one.
She swiped her tongue over her bottom lip.
This close to her, he could see her mouth was pretty and pink. It reminded him of a flower bud. He’d only seen her from a distance before, when he’d been hiding in the shadows of the trees.
“So you live with him,” she asked. “Mahpee.”
“We share a home winter and summer.”
“You do?”
“They are big homes.” He hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt. “And we are as close as brothers would be.” He banged his chest again then gestured to the cabin where Mahpee was getting dressed. “Born within days of each other.”
She nodded as though trying to imagine where they lived and when they were born. Then she raised her chin. “And you also speak my language because of Henry Butterleigh?”
“Henry Butterleigh was a good friend to the Chochmi, we mourned him when he died but know that he will be taken care of by the spirits as an honory member of our family.”
“So I have heard, that he was a good friend, I mean.”
Hinto stepped closer. She was so small and delicate, thin, too—the strength of body the Chochmi women had didn’t seem to exist. Yet she must be strong, in spirit at least, to be out here alone, without her people.
When Mahpee had first told of her existence, Hinto had wanted to fire arrows at her, chase her away with his machete. Trespassing wasn’t allowed. But now…now he found her fascinating, alluring…he wanted to know more.
He stepped closer.
She didn’t move.
He came so close he could feel her body heat. Hear her breaths. Smell her flowery skin.
Most grown men would flinch with him looming over them.
But she didn’t.
Maybe the name his friend had given her was more accurate than he’d first thought. Courage ran through her stem-like body, infusing her petals and leaves with bravery.
He stared down at her eyes. A blueness he’d never seen before stared right back. They were watery and deep and flashed in the morning sunshine. It was as if he could see the depths of her soul. There was nowhere for her to hide her spirit in their watery clearness.
“Do they hurt?” he asked.
“Does what hurt?”
“Your eyes. They are a strange color.”
“I have blue eyes. That is not strange.” She didn’t blink.