Running Wolf. Jenna KernanЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“How are you called?” Running Wolf asked.
His voice resonated inside her, rumbling through her like the roll of thunder. She pressed her clasped hands to her chest, squeezing tight to hold on to her courage.
“Snow Raven.”
“That is not a name for a woman.” He frowned as he swept her with his gaze. “But it suits you, for you are not like any woman I have ever met. You are causing trouble, you know. No one knows what to do with you. Some say you will steal a horse and run, but then we would catch you and you would die.”
She squeezed her eyes shut at the images now assaulting her mind.
“Ah,” he said. “So you do feel fear. For a time I thought you were immune to such emotions.”
She looked at him now. “A warrior does not admit to fear.”
“But a woman does. She cries and uses her tears to gather sympathy. Yet you do not.”
“Would that work?”
“It would make you less interesting. And you are very interesting.”
“I do not want your interest.”
He laughed. “Then you should not have unseated one of my warriors.”
From the moment Snow Raven came charging into my first scene on her white horse I have been in love with this character. My heroine is the daughter of a Crow chief and is bright, stoic and brave—even after being captured by her enemies. At first she wants only to survive until she is rescued. But when faced with the needs of her fellow captives she grows into a warrior, forgoing her own happiness to win their freedom.
My hero, Running Wolf, is the war chief of his Sioux tribe and an enemy to the Crow people. Running Wolf is at first intrigued, then confounded, and later fascinated by the captive Snow Raven. They both resist a love that will cost them all. He must lead his people and protect them from their enemies, while she must try to bring her people home. What chance does love have when pitted against duty?
I had a wonderful time writing about two Native characters who lived on the North American Plains in a time after the Spanish and before the Americans came to challenge their dominance. The research for this story was a joy—especially learning all I could on earning coup feathers. When I discovered that a woman could become a warrior I was thrilled.
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Running Wolf
Jenna Kernan
Award-winning author JENNA KERNAN writes fast-paced Western and paranormal romantic adventures. She has penned over two dozen novels, has received two RITA nominations, and in 2010 won the Book Buyers Best Award for her debut paranormal romance. Jenna loves an adventure. Her hobbies include recreational gold-prospecting, scuba diving and gem-hunting.
Follow Jenna on Twitter @jennakernan, on Facebook or at www.jennakernan.com
For Jim, always.
Contents
AUTHOR NOTE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Snow Raven raced her gray dappled mustang, Song, along the lakeshore, her horse’s powerful muscles rippling with each long stride. She loved how she and Song moved together, how the air rushed against her face and lifted her hair. Her father said that riding was the closest that a person ever came to flying.
This was the very reason Raven did not wear her hair in twin braids like the women of her tribe, but neither did she quite dare to wear it as her father and brother did. The warriors cut their forelock short and used grease and pitch to make the hairs stand up as stiff as a porcupine’s quills. Instead, Raven made her own style and had wound narrow braids at her temples and wrapped them in ermine that was decorated with shell beads and quillwork like the men. The rest of her hair she left loose and as wild as the mane of her mustang. Her dress was also a mixture, shorter than a woman’s, made from a single buckskin like a man’s, but for modesty and comfort she wore both loincloth and leggings beneath.
Raven wore a skinning knife about her neck, as most females in her tribe did, but she also carried a deerskin quiver from the six-point buck she had felled when she was eight. Within, metal-tipped