Blinking those tears away, she looks back at the setting sun, and all that surrounds her. This is her home, the place where her soul knows its only peace. And yet, to be who she must, to become who she will, she must leave both it and the peace it offers behind.

She senses the presence behind her a split second before a light touch descends on her shoulder.

“Han, thiblo.”

A deep laugh sounds behind her as Tacoma moves to the fence. “Those eyes in the back of your head have grown larger, I see. Hau, tanski. Hau, Wiyo.”

The redtail cocks a disinterested eye toward the large man before returning to her preening.

“Beautiful evening,” Tacoma remarks, leaning forward to rest his forearms against the top rail.

“That it is,” Koda agrees. With the sound of thunder, the herd comes over the ridge and runs by, Wakinyan leading them. The herd’s size has nearly doubled in the weeks Koda has been away, and she looks on, impressed. “He covering them all?”

“Oh yeah. He’s gonna be one happy boy come spring.”

Koda shoots him a look before returning her attention to the setting sun.

The two sit in companionable silence until the sun disappears behind the horizon and twilight descends, bringing with it a soft peace of its own.

Finally, Tacoma speaks. “I’m coming with you, you know.”

Shifting on the fence rail, Koda looks down at her brother. “What?”

“When you leave. I figure that’s gonna be either tomorrow or the day after. I recognize the signs.”

“What signs?!”

Tacoma grins, a touch smugly. “How long have I known you? You’re as restless as a cougar in heat, tanski. You love this.” A large hand splays, indicating the ranch. “But your soul is calling you elsewhere.”

Koda dips her head, a touch embarrassed at being so easily read. Tacoma chuckles softly, soothing her with a light touch to her broad back.

“You always were a wandering spirit,” he continues, tone reflective. “It surprised the hell out of me when you bought the ranch down the road and settled in.”

“Tali,” Koda answers, her own voice quiet as her brother’s. “She was happy here. And I…a big part of me was too.” A pause, then softer still, “Still is.”

“But that other part, it’s gotten bigger, hasn’t it.”

Koda nods.

“You’ve changed, tanski.” Tacoma holds up a hand. “No, no, not in a bad way. It’s just….” He sighs, trying to put his thoughts into words. “Ina always said that you were born winyan.”

Dakota turns wide eyes to him, and he laughs.

“No, not to your face. You got into far too much mischief for her to ever let you know that out loud. But she’s always been proud of you. Ate too. And you know the younger ones worship you. Hell, even I do.”

Feeling a hot blush coming on, Koda turns away, glad for the evening breeze which has sprung up with the setting of the sun. It cools her skin, but does nothing for the rapid beat of her heart.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Tacoma doesn’t notice—or has the sense, at least, to pretend he hasn’t. “As I said, you were always self-possessed and mature, even when you were a wild child.” He laughs, remembering. “Which was most of the time. But now…now you have… wakhan. I can feel it coming off of you, even when you’re sitting still, like now. It’s just….” Head lowered, he sighs again. “I wish I had better words to explain.”

“I’ve experienced many things in these past weeks,” Koda replies, still looking to the horizon.

“I’ve heard the stories. Though I assume you edited them for Ina and Ate. Ina especially.”

Koda turns finally to look at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

The two siblings share a quiet laugh.

Dakota sobers. “There’s a great battle coming, thiblo. I can feel it here.” She pounds her thigh. “In my bones.”

“Not here.” Tacoma indicates the ranch again.

“No. This place is safe enough. For now at least.”

“Ellsworth, then?”

“I believe so. I don’t know how I know, I just know that I do.”

“Which is why I’m coming with you.”

Koda rounds on him again. “No, Tacoma. You can’t. You need….”

“To stay here?” His voice is strong, steady, and brooks no contention. “You yourself just admitted that this place is safe.”

“For now, I said.”

“For now,” he concedes. “But it’s as well guarded as any army camp, Dakota. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. We’ve got enough weapons and ammunition to last us for years, if need be, and everyone on this ranch, from the youngest on up, knows how to use them.”

“But….”

“No buts. I am Tacoma Rivers, Staff Sergeant in the US Army. I am a Lakota warrior. I can no more stand by than you can. If there is to be a battle, I mean to be there.”

“Ina will never let that happen.”

“Ina doesn’t have a choice in the matter. I am wichasha. I run my own life, and rule my own destiny.”

“And cower like a hokshila when Ina shoots one look at you,” Koda replies, smirking.

Tacoma can’t help but laugh, knowing his sister’s words for truth. Their mother runs the house with an iron fist, and no one dares deny her reign, not even her husband.

“I need to do this, Dakota,” he says finally. “No matter what, I need to do this.”

Taking her brother’s hand in hers, she gives it a firm squeeze, and looks deep into his eyes. “I know.”

Falling silent again, both turn to the sliver of the moon as it rises over the skeletons of trees as old as time.

6

“No. You won’t go. I forbid it.”

“Ina.”

“Mother.”

“No. This discussion is finished. Now leave me, both of you. I have dinner to prepare.”

Stepping away from the juggernaut who is their mother, Tacoma shoots a pleading look to Koda, who rolls her eyes and steps forward, careful not to touch. “Ina, please.”

Themungha whirls, eyes fierce and filled with tears she won’t allow to fall. “I told you to leave me be, Dakota.”

“I can’t do that, Mother. I won’t do that.”

“Who is winyan here?” she demands, her brow like thunderheads amassing before a storm.

“We both are.” Her eyes soften. “Please, Ina. We need to talk about this.”

Sighing, Themungha looks at her daughter, then past her to where several not-quite familiar faces stare back with varying degrees of discomfiture. “Go on with you!” she demands, scowling and flapping her arm at them. “I’ll let you know when the meal has been prepared.”

The small group scatters like startled quail, leaving only mother, daughter, and son behind.

“Start talking.” Arms folded across her chest, Themungha is a formidable sight. Tacoma swallows hard, but Dakota refuses to be cowed.

“I’ll talk only when you are ready to listen to my words, Ina.”

The thunderheads reappear, then scatter. Proud neck unbent, Themungha nevertheless lets her daughter know by her body language that she’s ready to listen.

“The danger. It isn’t over, Ina.”

“All the more reason you are needed here, Dakota. To protect your thihawe. There is no greater need than that.”

“Our family is protected, Ina. I have seen it. I have spoken with our neighbors, the men and women and children who have come to live here. They will protect this place, and everyone in it, with their lives.”

Themungha’s voice carries with it deep, biting sarcasm. “Oh, and you are demanding that they do what you will not?”

“I demand nothing from them, Ina. They do what they do of their own free will. As I do. As Tacoma does.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?” her mother shouts, all but shaking the rafters. “That they will stay and fight, and you will run?”

“I’m not running, Mother. You know this.”

“All I know is what I see. You are leaving us to defend ourselves while you go who knows where and take my oldest son with you.”

Tacoma steps in, his voice even, but firm. “I would go with or without Dakota, Mother.”

Themungha turns to her son, tears finally spilling over onto her rounded cheeks. “Takuwe?”

“Because I am needed.”

“You are needed here!”

Tacoma shakes his head, saddened by his mother’s tone, yet resolute. “I am needed there more.”

Themungha turns away, her face and almost ugly in its anger. “Let the washichun take care of himself.”

“Ina!” Tacoma gasps.

She rounds on them both. “It’s true!” she shouts again. “Where were they when our land was stripped from us? Where were they when our women were raped and our men were slaughtered like sheep? Where?!?”

“Not even born,” Dakota replies, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion. Tacoma stares on, shocked at his mother’s sudden bigotry.

“Oh?” Themungha retorts. “And I suppose it was ghosts who sent you home battered and bloody from school? It was ghosts who spat in your face when you walked into town? Who called you names that took the light out of your eyes and put a stone mask on your face instead? Was it, chunkshi?”

“You know it wasn’t, Ina.”

With a savage nod of her head, Themungha puts her hands on ample hips and stares at them both, obviously believing the matter decided to her satisfaction.

“Mother,” Dakota begins softly. “You raised me to be the woman I am. A woman who will fight for what is right, and just, and good. There are thousands of innocent women and children trapped in prisons all over this country. Thousands more wander, lost and alone, and in fear for their lives. If I turn my back on them because they are not Lakota, I am no better than the people who beat and spit on me because I am.” Lowering her head just slightly, she levels her gaze into her mother’s bottomless eyes. “Is that the woman you raised me to become?”

She sighs when there is no answer.

“If so, then I’m sorry I failed you, Ina.” Turning to Tacoma, she says, “I’ll be leaving at sunrise. With you or without you.”