He let it go, savored the post-orgasmic lethargy that had taken over his body and the sweet feel of the woman in his arms. Outside, the sun had set, a breeze wicking the sweat from his skin.
“Are you cold?” He kissed her hair, unable to get enough of her.
She snuggled deeper into his chest, her voice soft and sleepy. “A little.”
He pulled up the sheet, covering them both, his fingers tracing the graceful line of her spine. A golden silence stretched between them, the minutes passing, long and languid. Whatever they’d had to say had been communicated through touch, through kisses, through the union of their bodies. What were words compared to that?
After some time, she spoke. “What are those wreaths?”
He followed the direction of her gaze. “They’re not wreaths. They’re Sun Dance rings or crowns. I made them myself to wear during the ceremony.”
“You wear them on your head?” She narrowed her eyes if trying to imagine this.
“I’ll show you.” As reluctant as he was to leave her side even for a moment, he climbed out of bed, crossed the room, and took down one of the crowns. He placed it on his head so that the ribbons trailed down his back, then did a slow turn so that she could see how it looked. When he faced her again, he found her sitting up in bed, her bare breasts exposed, her gaze moving over his naked body, stopping at his penis. “Of course, I wasn’t naked.”
She laughed. “What did you wear—besides the crown?”
“Most dancers also wear smaller sage rings around their ankles and wrists. Men wear a kind of long loin cloth, almost a skirt, that covers their lower body to the ground.” He removed the crown, set it back on its nail, and got back in bed, settling down once again with Naomi in his arms.
“Winona told me that’s how you got these.” Naomi ran her fingers over the piercing scars on his chest, her touch cool. “Don’t be angry with her. She told me only because I asked.”
“I’m not angry with her.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Naomi’s ear. “Yeah, these are my piercing scars from my three Sun Dances.”
She kissed one and then another. “It must have been painful.”
Oh, yes—more painful than he’d imagined it would be.
“The pain is the point—or part of it. Women bleed every month for the good of their people and suffer when they give birth. That’s how new life comes into the world. Sun Dance gives men a chance to bleed and suffer for their people, too.” That’s how it had been explained to him. “Warriors make an offering of their flesh so thatWakan Tankawill watch over their families and communities.”
The frown on her face told him she was struggling with that idea. “Can’t you just pray or fast or something?”
He tried to explain, simplifying things, struggling to translate both words and the concepts behind the Sun Dance into English. “Sun Dance is one of seven sacred Lakota rites. Nowadays, it’s part of the Red Road, the spiritual way of life, for many Native peoples, not just plains nations. Mostly men, but also women, give up food and water for four days and nights and dance in the sun. Warriors—”
“Are you awarrior?” She looked up at him, amusement on her face.
He chuckled, caressed her shoulder. “The word means something different to us. A warrior isn’t someone who fights wars. He—or she—protects those who are weaker than he is, takes care of the vulnerable people in the community, takes responsibility for the things that need to be done. Sometimes that means fighting. Most of the time it’s simple stuff like shoveling snow off an elder’s sidewalk or defending a kid against bullies or speaking out at a meeting against a bad tribal government policy.”
“Or rescuing people?”
“That, too.” He went back to the Sun Dance. “Warriors who choose to self-sacrifice are pierced with sharpened pegs. The protruding ends of the pegs are attached to leather thongs that hang from the tree that stands at the center of the Sun Dance area. The idea is to dance while looking into the sun and pulling back until the pegs tear through your skin.”
She winced, her fingers explored his scars again. “How can you survive four days in the heat and sun without water? Do people ever get sun stroke and die?”
“One of the duties of a Sun Dance chief is to watch out for people. Those who look like they’re in trouble get sage tea. But Sun Dance is a way of life, a discipline. Sun Dancers spend a year preparing through prayer, sweatlodges, andhanbleceya—vision quest—which also requires you to go four days without food or water. By the time a man reaches the Sun Dance grounds, he ought to be ready.”
“Did you do all of that—sweatlodge, vision quest?”
Chaska nodded. “My grandfather put me on top of a mountain and kept watch that entire time to make sure I was safe.”
“Did you have a vision? That’s what it’s about, right?”
“Yes, but it’s also about getting clear in your mind, understanding the path you’re meant to take. That’s where I decided to go to college to study engineering.”
“You’ve done three Sun Dances then.”
“I was supposed to do four. Every cycle includes four Sun Dances, so once you’ve committed to it, you repeat that entire year-long process four years in a row. But I walked away from it.”
He told her how proud he’d been to step into the arbor with his father and grandfather, how proud he’d felt to be part of a tradition that passed from father to son for countless generations. “Old Man wanted me to start learning the ropes, to take my place in the arbor, even though my heart was set on engineering school. For a while, I thought I could do both.”