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Young Writers Society


12+ Violence

Tepehkiiha [RC:R1]

by Wolfi


They called her Moon because they found her by its light, splayed out, dead-looking, not far from the charred skeleton of a farmhouse. They lifted her onto their travois, covered her with their own buffalo robes, and walked on.

Misinformation plagued her life as a white woman. The newspapers said the land out west was fertile; she believed them. Her pa said the Texas Rangers would keep them safe; she trusted him. Her ma said walking in the rain would give her a cold; she stayed dry. Her husband said ladies don’t ride horses; she agreed. And she and her friends all said the Injuns were bad, every single one of them, as they murmured over delicate pink china tea sets, supposing Comanche was the longer way to say Apache.

But in a short period of time, she’d see that the land was just dead grass that crackled beneath the soles of all but moccasined feet, the Rangers would be nowhere to be seen when Charlie was scalped, the gentle rain would wash the blood from her quivering and disgraced body, and a horse would drag her to safety on a travois. Eventually she’d learn that there really was a difference between the Comanche, the Apache, the Sioux, the Cheyenne, and the Kickapoo. The Comanche sheared Charlie’s life away. But the Kickapoo cradled Moon in their arms, wrapped her in their fur, and set her up on her feet again.

Over the years, she’d hear stories of settlers who were assimilated into Indian cultures at a young age and, in every sense except for the color of their skin and hair, became one with their tribe, white American habits tucked away in some increasingly distant crevasse of their minds.

She was never quite like them.

Moon became Kickapoo because she wanted to hide from the white culture, ashamed of what the Comanche did to her. Even if Charlie had been alive he wouldn’t have wanted her anymore. She’d heard stories of husbands who hang themselves after their wife’s been fouled in an Indian raid. She’d also heard stories of women who’d drink rat poison before their husbands could find out about what had happened.

But still, a large part of her was always rooted in the hopes of returning to the comforts and familiarities of the white culture, ostracizing though it might be. The Kickapoo had not found her when she was an open-minded child, but when she was twenty-three and set in her ways, and even though as the years waned on they treated her like an equal, sometimes she’d study her reflection in the water and wonder if she’d ever get to go back home. She had a sister who lived east. Maybe she’d consider taking her in.

“Moon,” Yellow Flower said, sitting next to her on the edge of the lake, “why don’t you return to the white men?”

Moon frowned, curious as to how Yellow Flower always seemed to know what she was thinking. “There’s no white man or woman that would want me,” she said simply. “I’d be an outcast.”

“But you feel like an outcast here in the tribe, too.”

“I do,” Moon admitted. She picked up a twig and swirled it in the water. “Do you think I’m an outcast?”

“No. I think you are Kickapoo. But it doesn’t matter what I think.” She plucked a leaf from Moon’s hair. “Are you happy here?”

Moon swallowed. She had been wondering the same thing for many winters. “I… I think I am. I like living this way. I’ve never had so many kind friends before. But there are many things I miss. I miss my husband and my house, and I miss the hope of having a family someday.”

“There are Kickapoo men who would marry you,” Yellow Flower said. “Just yesterday Sitting Bear said you were beautiful.”

Moon smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I don’t deserve anyone like Sitting Bear. He deserves a Kickapoo woman who is strong and works hard.”

Yellow Flower laughed. “That’s true. You are lazy.”

“Hey!” Moon threw the stick at her. Yellow Flower leaned over and splashed her with lake water.

That night she couldn’t go to sleep because she was thinking about what Yellow Flower had asked her. Why didn’t she go back, and send her sister a telegram? Was she even happy here? Would she want to concretize her Kickapoo life and marry someone like Sitting Bear?

She thought about her Charlie. He had been the love of her life.

Like so many other nights, she again began remembering that evening of horror when she saw the Comanche pin him down on his stomach, grab a tuft of his hair, and unsheath a glinting silver knife from his belt. She remembered looking the other way when he screamed, and seeing a second Comanche come for her and toss her onto the ground as if she were a doll. She remembered when it started raining and she crawled over to where Charlie had been, only to realize that they had taken him but left her there to die.

Why? Why did they leave me?

Turtle Dove said that it was because the Great Spirit protected her with the light of the Comanche Moon, another name for the full moon that makes the night as bright as the day. He said that it had made her skin glow with magic, and they left her behind because they were frightened that it would harm them. Like the Kickapoo, the Comanche believe the moon is very sacred, and that its magic shouldn’t be taken for granted or abused.

“That’s why we gave you the name Tepehkiiha,” Turtle Dove said.

A few weeks after she had spoken to Yellow Flower by the lake, Moon and several women were cooking meals in the wickiup. Suddenly, a cry from outside alerted them to the arrival of strangers. Abandoning the cornbread dough, they hurried outside. Beyond the clusters of wigwams and wickiups they saw a line of riders on the crest of a hill, waiting silently. They numbered about twenty. Their rifles were held skyward at their side.

“White men,” Yellow Flower whispered.

“Rangers,” Moon said, in English.

Sitting Bear came to find her. “Hide,” he said. “They might be coming for you.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it slowly, deciding that he was right. Back inside the wickiup, she wrung her hands in worry and uncertainty. It had been over six years since she’d talked to a white man. Was she missing an opportunity by hiding from them? Would they come anyway in search of her and kill every Indian in their path, not knowing that the Kickapoos were a benevolent people?

There was no use in worrying. She sat down and kneaded the dough, and when it was done she continued to roll it in her hands. She could not bake it yet because the clay oven was outside.

Moon was not accustomed to being alone. Ever since she was placed in this village, she was always surrounded by people. She cooked with the women, played with the children, gathered wood with friends, and slept with Yellow Flower’s family in their wikiup. She had learned the Kickapoo language fairly quickly because there were almost always conversations to listen and contribute to. Sitting there, rolling the lump of dough from hand to hand, Moon was keenly aware of how strange the silence was. She didn’t like it.

She heard the soft treading of moccasins outside and put the dough down. “Come, Moon,” Sitting Bear’s voice said. “Turtle Dove waits for you in his wickiup.”

She climbed out. “What? What for?” To her knowledge, no woman except for Turtle Dove’s wife was allowed inside his wickiup. Otherwise, only the greatest Kickapoo warriors and elders ever entered, to discuss strategies and make important decisions. When trading partners like the Comanche visited, sometimes they were invited there as well.

“You know what for,” Sitting Bear said, looking down at her solemnly.

He was right. She did. “Are there white men there?”

“Yes. Two. One says he knows you.”

Oh, Great Spirit. Who could that be? Her pa? One of her friend’s husbands, maybe?

The line of Rangers, two men short, were still on the crest of the hill, and some of their more anxious horses danced in place and tossed their heads. Moon knew that the men were watching her and judging her, and she wished she could tuck her long blonde hair under a hat or something. She felt ashamed.

“Be proud of who you are,” Sitting Bear whispered in her ear.

Was her insecurity really that obvious? Probably. She paused at the mouth of the wickiup, and took one long look at the congregation of the Kickapoos - her family - standing in a c-shape that curved around one side of the village, like a fortification in between she and the Rangers. She caught the glance of Yellow Flower, who smiled encouragingly.

Moon ducked inside. Turtle Dove indicated the spot next to him and she took it quickly, keeping her eyes downcast all the while. She could see the dusty black boots of the two white men sitting across from them, but she didn’t look up to see their faces.

“Do you know this man, Moon?” Turtle Dove asked.

“I don’t want to know,” she said. One of the white men shifted uncomfortably, probably unnerved to hear her speak Kickapoo.

“He says he is your husband.”

She almost laughed. This was all a joke, then. “My husband is dead.”

Turtle Dove didn’t answer. She looked at him, then finally at the men across from her.

There he was. Her husband.

“Howdy, Amie,” Charlie said.

She was struck by such a sudden rush of emotions that she didn’t know what to say.

Her husband searched her eyes. “Can you say anything, Amie?”

“Tepehkiiha,” she said, breathless.

“Wha… What’s that mean, honey?” The English grated harshly and loudly on her ears.

“My name is Tepehkiiha.”

“Oh, alright.” He looked pained. “What’s that mean?”

“Moon.”

He glanced down at the dead fireplace. She in turn stared at his hat, and wondered numbly if he had any scalp left, and if he did how he was alive. He wasn’t supposed to be alive. They took him from her. They killed him.

Abruptly, she stood up. Turtle Dove grabbed her wrist but she yanked free and left the wickiup without a backwards glance. She stormed towards the lake and felt tears stinging in her eyes. She knew the whole village was watching from behind but she didn’t care. She wanted to die.

She was almost at the lake when she glanced back and saw Charlie following her, his spurs ringing with each step. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What was he doing? What did he care if she drowned? A fouled woman is better off dead, isn’t she?

She plunged into the water just as he caught up. “Amie!” he yelled.

She continued to wade further into the water, but curiosity got the best of her. “Why’re you here?” she cried over her shoulder.

“I’ve been trying to find you,” he said. “Now, come on back now. I’ve looked too long to lose you in a lake.”

She turned around, the water well up to her waist. “Why did you want to find me?”

“You’re my wife, Amie.”

“Who’s been taken up by a Comanche!” she sobbed. She turned back and plunged her head under the water.

“Amie!” Charlie kicked off his boots and waded in after her. “I don’t care about that no more.”

Her ears were under the water so she couldn’t hear him. Suddenly his arms were around her and he pulled her head out of the water. She struggled fiercely to get free, like a fish on a hook, and in the process of trying to hold her tight, Charlie’s hat fell off.

With that, Moon was still.

“Charlie,” she whispered.

He looked embarrassed, and snatched the hat out of the water. “I didn’t want you to see that yet.” He covered his head.

The fleeting sight of his scalp - or lack of - was like a branding iron to her memory. “How… how did you survive it?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “The Rangers saved me,” he said. “Got me to a doctor right away. Two of ‘em went back to find you, but… they were both kids and, well, they got lost. The rain didn’t help much with the tracks, either. I’ve been trying to find you ever since I got better. Didn’t think I’d find you way down here. In southern Texas. With Kickapoos.”

“Charlie,” she said again. She was crying, but this time it was for a different reason.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to scare you right away like that.”

“No, it’s not that. I still don’t understand why… why you’d try so hard to find me. Or how you’re still alive.”

“Yeah, well.” He hugged her to him. “Here I am. Fine and dandy. And I don’t give a damn to whatever a Comanche did to you. Wasn’t your fault. All these years must have been tough on you, yeah?”

“Yes, but…” She noticed that the Kickapoos had followed Charlie to the lake, and were now all standing nearby to watch, squinting in the orange glow of the setting sun. She shook her head. “No. I’ve been well taken care of.”

“Learned how to speak Indian and everything too. How d’you say your name again?”

“Tepehkiiha.”

He attempted to pronounce it and utterly failed.

“Let’s get out of the water, shall we?” she asked.

They waded to the shore, and were accepted by the jubilant faces of the Kickapoo village, who were a people that liked to see happy endings.

Questions

So. I came up with and wrote this thing in one single day, and I'm not very proud of it. It needs a lot of work. Good thing this is a revision competition, I guess!

1. I think a lot of the writing is cut and dry because I didn't have a lot of time to edit it. I like the first paragraph's descriptions, but after that it's not very consistent because I was just trying to get the story out in time and didn't worry about flowery language. What areas need the most work in terms of describing or explaining things? Are there any parts that have too much?

2. Do Moon and Charlie need more definable character arcs? (the answer is yes, obviously, but in what way, I guess?)

3. The ending's rushed. In what ways would you have liked me to elaborate? What loose ends should I have tied?


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Mon Mar 13, 2017 8:47 pm
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wakarimasen wrote a review...



Howdy, Wolfical. (: I'm not particularly confident in my reviewing skills, but with your questions to guide me, I think I can give some specific feedback.

1. The cut and dry descriptions are perfect. I think it really sets the rough, tense atmosphere of Moon's world. Perhaps the only thing that could be expanded on is describing the wigwams, etc. in more detail. I think a lot of people still think all "Indians" live in little teepees and stuff like that - using flowery languages to describe their living spaces, where they cook, sleep, etc. would help us create more accurate mental imagery of authentic Native American life.

2. Hm. Perhaps explaining how long they'd lived together, how they met, etc.? I read that Charlie was the love of Moon's life - but what other showy (as opposed telly) indications can you give of their relationship?

3. For the ending, maybe elaborate what she was thinking about him as they left the water? She must be in shock at these sudden revelations. And I can't help but wonder how Charlie's feeling. Maybe Moon sneaks a tentative glance at his face and tries to read the expressions. Something along those lines.

I like how you've kept this story so PG-rated. Clearly, some really horrible stuff's happened to Moon, and you got that point across really effectively without being explicit or graphic. You clearly have a lot of exposure to the Western genre, and I like how you're giving it your own respectful and sensitive spin while staying true to the setting.

I've read quite a few stories of "white" girls being kidnapped by hostile "Indian" tribes. They almost always portray the Native American tribes as barbaric, brainwashing people. Instead, you've shown us a young woman being taken in by a caring, accepting tribe following a heavily traumatic experience at the hands of another, and their support as she is given the option to reclaim her old life.

I can't wait to read what happens next in the story of Tepehkiiha! Keep up the amazing work. :)

-Al




Wolfi says...


Aww, thank you so much Al! I think your reviewing skills are fabulous. Thanks for the advice. I'm glad you appreciate that I showed the caring side of a Native American tribe because that's what I was hoping to portray. :)



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Sun Mar 12, 2017 4:17 pm
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hexglass wrote a review...



Hey, Wolfical!

It's difficult for me to describe how much I loved this; there's something so beautifully gentle about the way this is written, the emotions that emerge from the narrative. Thus, it's also really hard for me to pinpoint anything that might be of use to you, but I want to try!

To answer your questions: first, the description. This is terribly vague, but the only way I might be able to explain what I felt might've been missing. In the first part / everything that came before Moon's dialogue with Yellow Flower by the lake, I felt the construction of the setting, story and characters melted quite unobtrusively into your descriptions -- we were introduced to everything or everyone we needed to know, but not in such a way that made it obvious the story had somewhere to go, if that makes sense? Of course, that's not to say that the rest of the story was in-you-face or unpalatable in any way; I still enjoyed it immensely! It's just that, going back and rereading a few times, this is what stood out to me most.

Perhaps that's a little of what you mean by cut/dry description? It's possible that where the description was more fluid, more gentle and expansive, it was like having flesh on bones (if you could call narrative/storytelling bones, because they're really not; it's just the best metaphor I can come up with, right now).

I wouldn't say there's any part that has too much, though. I'm really torn between saying this part could benefit from more description and saying that it's perfect as it is, because the emotion and stillness is so tangible:

Turtle Dove didn’t answer. She looked at him, then finally at the men across from her.

There he was. Her husband.

“Howdy, Amie,” Charlie said.

She was struck by such a sudden rush of emotions that she didn’t know what to say.

Her husband searched her eyes. “Can you say anything, Amie?”

“Tepehkiiha,” she said, breathless.


Really, though, since you say it's rushed, I think what really matters is how you want to flesh it out more -- I didn't get a strong sense that it was 'rushed' when I read through the first time, but if you feel that it is, I'm able to pick out some parts near the end that progressed a little more quickly than I expected.

Which leads me onto your second question! Once again, I really love it as it is, but this is a review challenge, so I'll try to explain how I feel about Moon and Charlie (they're gorgeous characters, honestly). There are two main parts I want to draw attention to, one for Moon, and one for Charlie:

The line of Rangers, two men short, were still on the crest of the hill, and some of their more anxious horses danced in place and tossed their heads. Moon knew that the men were watching her and judging her, and she wished she could tuck her long blonde hair under a hat or something. She felt ashamed.


The first, here, is because i'm interested by the idea of her insecurity. I can understand the shame she feels about her past and the scrutiny she might come under, with her racial background at odds with her community among the Kickapoos, at least in terms of appearance. However, I do get the feeling it hasn't been explored as deeply as it could have been -- I'll explain myself! You've discussed the marginalisation she might experience if she returns to the white American community, as well as the way she doesn't feel she fits in with the Kickapoos, especially as her morals and values are already so deeply ingrained. That's more than enough evidence to back up the insecurity she feels now, but (and this is completely based on feeling so it might be very, very far from correct) I didn't feel as strong an emotional connection to her insecurity, so here when it manifested as a very emotional, instinctive reaction to scrutiny, I was a little surprised. Once again, I want to repeat that these are tiny observations I've only made because I'm looking for them; they really don't detract from your story.

“Who’s been taken up by a Comanche!” she sobbed. She turned back and plunged her head under the water.

“Amie!” Charlie kicked off his boots and waded in after her. “I don’t care about that no more.”


The second is this one. To be honest, when Moon was musing over all the opinions she'd taken to be fact in the past and pondered over women riding horses, I got the impression that Charlie was a frustrating conservative and this was part of Moon's emancipation, or self-discovery. However, she was so in love with him that I really wanted to forgive him, and this really did it for me! Because we don't see much of Charlie in the story until his return, every nebulous idea I had of his character came from Moon, so I think there's some value in expanding on his position in Turtle Dove's wickiup. I am personally exceptionally bad at capturing character, so I have no trust in my ability to provide any suggestions that might help, but right now I'm thinking of using body language to define his character a little more? As a reader, I wouldn't mind suspecting, just a little, that Charlie had become more open-minded (or, if he already was, feel free to take this as you see it!) in the years they've been apart.

As for the ending, I guess I can see that, but for me it's really nothing huge. I want to point out this passage:

Abruptly, she stood up. Turtle Dove grabbed her wrist but she yanked free and left the wickiup without a backwards glance. She stormed towards the lake and felt tears stinging in her eyes. She knew the whole village was watching from behind but she didn’t care. She wanted to die.


Perhaps the abruptness (even in the first word! Your writing voice is incredible) of this passage was intended, in which case disregard this. I'm bringing this up because I feel like a lot of emotional dilemma or fleeting fragments of thought spurred this action, but it's difficult for me to see what exactly that was, so it makes her movement unexpected.

All in all, this probably hasn't been very helpful, so I apologise. If there's anything you want to clear up or pursue, please just ask/PM me!

I honestly enjoyed this short story a lot. There's so much beauty in your words, so much emotion in clarity -- a genuine sort of simple elegance to your writing. I would love to read more of it, please keep writing!

~ hexglass




Wolfi says...


Wow. First of all, you must be quite the writer yourself, because the voice and language you used in this review is beautiful! It's a work of art in itself. Secondly, the points you've pinpointed are phenomenal catches. During certain times in the narrative I would unconsciously wonder whether or not Moon or Charlie's thoughts/actions were out of place, and here you've helped me see and understand right where it needs the most help! Thank you so much for this. <3



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Sun Mar 12, 2017 3:44 pm
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PrincessInk wrote a review...



Hi! I'm reviewing for the contest :)

Maybe I'd like to see some more facial description for Charlie. If you haven't seen people for a long time, probably you would examine the person's appearance and see how it has changed or something like that, right? (This is just a preference.) Also more description of her surroundings scattered over the story would be nice.

If you want to have a character arc for Moon, I think you need to think a little about the theme of the story. So what way do you want Moon to change? My guess is that your intention to let Moon realize that living with the Kickapoo is not going to ban you from the whites' society (because you keep mentioning that throughout the story). Charlie only came out in the second half of the story, and it's hard to suggest the direction because the time span for him is so short (ten minutes or so).

Your ending was a bit unclear. I like open endings, like the one in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but a little hint about which direction they were going were, because I kind of feel as if Moon's character arc was unfinished, in a way.

Your story was really lovely and I liked Moon, but you're right--it is rather dry and has a "rushed" feeling. It would be much better if you added more color to your story in later revisions.

Have a great day!

Princess Ink




Wolfi says...


Thanks so much, Princess! :)




Don't go around saying the world owes you a living; the world owes you nothing; it was here first.
— Mark Twain