It took him a few minutes to realize that he was in Windhawk’s lodge. He sat up slowly, searching for his sister. With a sweeping glance, he discovered that he was alone in the lodge. He found to his relief that the pain in his chest wasn’t nearly as acute as it had been, and he was hungry. It took several tries and considerable effort, but finally he managed to stand up by holding on to the lodgepole. He noticed that his chest was wrapped and bandaged, and knew that it was Joanna’s handiwork. He had vague, shadowy memories of her feeding him and forcing liquids down his throat. Tag staggered toward the opening, pushed back the flap, and walked outside. His glance automatically went to his own tipi. No smoke rose from the top opening as it did from all the other tipis, and he realized for the first time that Morning Song wouldn’t be there to greet him. Tag was wearing only a breechcloth, and he began to feel the cold. It was snowing lightly, but a strong wind whirled the flakes about so they weren’t sticking to the ground.
