Standing Bear took an arrow to his side. He stood between us and the tribe, unflinching. Arrows pierced the mountain sky, some falling into the rocks above and below us.

Little Deer and I tucked ourselves behind a rock. We watched helpless, as Standing Bear fought with his tomahawk to fend the tribe off who prized his scalp. Without a word, our jaws dropped along with our hearts as he fought them off one by one, until at last he was taken down and scalped.

Little Deer climbed over to the edge of the raging water. I, frozen in fear, heard the banshee cries until it filled the mountain side and echoed with a bone chilling shrill in the valley. Standing Bear paid the price of his betrayal and killing of the chief's son.

I turned to Little Deer standing the cliff's edge, as if she could once again find our escape as she had done in the darkness of the cave. But her answer was to jump to an almost certain death. I staked myself toward her in a hypnotic gaze. She smiled, made a sign of the cross, to let me know, that no one could quench her faith. She stepped off the ledge and disappeared into the torrent of water.

I fell toward her until my bruised and bloodied knees scrapped the granite rock. I looked down into the cavernous jaws of jutting rocks and the spray freshening my face of death. I turned and twisted back to see the painted braves drawing closer, blocking any other escape.

A certain awakening took hold like an ice pick that dug into my spine, lifting me, making my blood run cold. One of the Indians put their hand out toward me. It was then I realized I was worth far more alive, to be abused and tortured. I stood backward until my heart dropped and my arms had nothing to hold, unless I surrendered to my captors.

The icy water cut through me like a thousand blades, as I plunged into the abyss below. I closed my eyes and held my breath expecting to feel the battering ram of rocks. The thunder of water filled my ears. I waited for the shouts of heaven's chorus to take its place. But the water and its weight consumed me, buried me where I let go and waited for it be my silent grave, to hold me down and drown me. Water filled my lungs, choking, suffocating my once promising life.

I opened my eyes to see that the threat of death was not over. The white water snared me like a ghostly grip toward rocks and boulders. My head smacked and bled from dead wood branches, blood stinging and blinding my eyes, reminding me I lived. Clinging to deadfall debris, I fished myself from a slow bend of silt and gravel.

I crawled until finding tufts of grass and a fallen tree. I curled into a ball and shook with violence. From the corner my eye, I watched, wondering if the Indians would scale down and search for me. As I spied the foam and swirling water, Little Deer's body drifted over and caught on a branch. She looked to me, lifeless as a ragdoll.

I dove toward her from the bank and tugged on Little Deer until she was half out of the water. I sank to my knees and cradled her in my arms where I said goodbye despite the threat of being found.