Title: A Sioux from two White (1/2)

Author: BellamortsDaughterNesha

Movie: Dances With Wolves

Summary: A true Sioux child is born from two White parents.

Chapter Summary: Dances With Wolves tells us the four times he and Stands With a Fist had peace.

Authors Note: I don’t claim to know a lot about history, Sioux’s, or this characters. This is a possible sequel to the movie… until I receive the actual sequel and hit my head in the desk for being dumb :P. You really have to watch Dances With Wolves, or read the book, to get it.

Oh yes before I forget. I didn't want to make a format difference between English and Lakota because... it was confusing. The story does tell when they are speaking in either language. The italics means that the dialogue was in the past, something that Dances With Wolves remembers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately they are not mine. They belong to Michael Black, otherwise I would… have met… Mary McAwesome aka McDonnell.

For seventeen months they had been on the run. For seventeen months they had run, hid, fought, hid, and run once more. For seventeen months they had been free without really having freedom. For seventeen months Dances With Wolves and Stands With a Fist had survived.

It hadn’t been easy, for either of them, to part from the tribe. Adjusting to a nomad life had been extremely hard, even for Stands With a Fist, who had previously only moved depending on the tribes needs. But they weren’t a tribe anymore, they were simply a couple of Sioux trying to survive and trying to not be captured by the white men. Shelter was never established for more than a couple of days, food was obtained on meal basis, and their meager belongings were always kept ready in case they had to suddenly flee.

They had come too close a couple of times, once they had even been separated for a whole week. Their reunion had been heartfelt and full of tears from both parts. She had made him promise her to let her fight. He had agreed.

Today they had been blessed by having placed a long distance between them and the white men which meant they would have one of those rare peaceful moments. Moments of peace were very far in between, in fact, he could count them with the fingers of one hand. Throughout their seventeen months on the run they had only three moments of silence and peace, not counting the one he was observing today.

Today, Dances With Wolves had waken alone. He instantly reached over trying to pull his wife, his Stands, close to him. It wasn’t that it was cold, after all they were in fall, but it was the custom of sleeping spooned next to her. Panic had gripped his heart and mind in an instant. “Stands!” He had exclaimed. “Stands With a Fist!” He quickly scrambled up, pushing the buffalo fur away. He looked around, his blue eyes wide as he checked his surroundings for any sign of her.

She was nowhere to be found.

His brain quickly told him she couldn’t have been abducted, he would have noticed, he would have felt something. He quickly mapped the area around their small provisional settlement. They were in the middle of two large rocks, the rocks were flanked by green hills, full of trees, nearby was nothing but plains of green and brown. Where could she be? He tried to remember once more and suddenly his eyes sparkled. “The stream.”

Taking his riffle in case some white men were around, Dances With wolves started towards the small stream less than half a mile away. He knew of her longing for nature, for a peaceful moment, but he also knew she knew about not going away by herself. “Stands!” he exclaimed once more, this time in a lower voice. She would hear about precautions once he got to her. When he finally found her he quiet down almost instantly.

Stands With a Fist was sitting on the edge of the stream, her feet were naked and dipped in the clear water. He could hear her soft giggles as she played in the water with her feet. He soon realized that she wasn’t only giggling, she was also talking. With a protective touch she gently framed the swell of her belly in which their child lay. At almost full cycle, Stands With a Fist, was the image of perfection. Her hair was longer, shinny, and with the same tussled look that he had learned to love. Her skin radiated with joy she had of becoming a mother, and her eyes sparkled with the promise of shaping a young life. Her costume, although work with love for its intricate embroilery, was more than tight around her figure but both she and Dances appreciated how it showcased their growing child. He strained his ear to hear what she was talking about, his brain instantly changing from English to Lakota.

“My child.” She continued without knowing he was there. “You will earn the way of our people, you will learn to hear and understand nature, to respect all of its creatures, to live in peace.”

Her words always calmed him and gave him peace but also made him see how much he needed to make things right for them, for her and their child. Thinking back all of their peaceful moments were somehow linked to her and their child and he knew, without a doubt, that he had to spread that peace.

Six months ago he had waken just like today; alone in their cot. Unlike today, Stands With a Fist was no more than five feet away, sitting on the bare floor, knees drawn to her chest and head resting on her knees, her hair covered her face. Although it looked like she was crying he knew by her soft breathing that she wasn’t. He moved towards her, he didn’t call her name but only touched her back tenderly. It didn’t make her look up but it did stop the soft, almost imperceptible rocking of her body.

“Stands?” he asked, his voice breaking through the silence of the night. “Are you alright?”

Stands With a Fist slowly rose her head and looked ahead of her. Her lips were curled in a secretive smile and her eyes sparkled both with happiness and fear.

“Stands?” he asked once more.

Stands With a Fist finally turned to look at him. “I love you” she whispered, her thick Lakota accent laced with her English words.

He looked at her confused, a little fear wearing towards his heart as his eyes quickly scanned her body for signs of injury or blood. “I love you” he repeated her words.

Her curled lips moved to a full smile as she heard his declaration. She took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling once more. “Haven’t bled two cycles.” She finally said in nothing above a whisper.

He frowned, not completely understanding what she was trying to say. She must have seen his confusion for she quickly looked upward trying to figure out a different way to say it in English but finally settling in saying it in Lakota. “I am with child.”

Seconds passed before the words registered in his mind. He was going to be a father? John Dumber was going to be a father to Christine Dumbar’s Child? Dances With Wolves was going to be a father to Stands With a Fist’s child? “What?”

She frowned knowing this time she had said it right. “I am with child.” She repeated, her words more punctuated.

His face broke into a full grin and to say that he hugged her tightly was an understatement. “A child!” he exclaimed.

Stands With a Fist giggled and held him back tightly. “A child.” She replied softly as she moved back a little, took his trembling hand, and pressed it against her slim belly. “Our child”.

It took almost two more months for another peaceful moment. Stands With a Fist was curled besides a small fire, its warmth seeping through the air, through her clothes, and unto her skin. He could watch over her all the time, her figure was forever etched into his mind’s eye but even then he loved to observe her. Her eyes danced with the colors of the flames turning from grey to dark green. Her smile was soft but clearly defined. Her hand was making tiny circles on her burgeoning belly. Over the crackling of the fire he could hear her humming a song he had heard in the camp from others rocking their children.

He was instantly alarmed when her humming stopped abruptly, her eyes widened and her hand halted on the side of her belly. “Stands?” He whispered in case she had sensed danger around them.

Her eyes shifted towards him. “Come…here” she whispered in her broken English.

He didn’t doubt her need to have him near; whether it was a whim or true danger. With silent steps he closed the distance between them but Stands With a Fist didn’t move one muscle. “What is it?” He asked, his riffle ready to protect his family.

“Hand” she said moving her own hand off her belly and towards him for him to place his hand on. He quickly placed it in Stand’s open palm and waited to see what she would do.

For fear of losing the sensation she didn’t move but instead brought his hand close to her belly. He felt nothing but the soft rise and low of her body as it responded to her breathing. He shook his head telling her he didn’t feel anything. Frowning she let go of his hand and slowly got into a sitting position. She placed both hands on her belly and waited. “Stubborn as father” she declared.

Dances With Wolves couldn’t help but laugh. He put his riffle down and leaned forward to press his lips against her belly, at least to the cloth that protected it. “Strong as its mother.” He corrected.

Stands with a Fist threaded her fingers through his hair and giggled. He suddenly felt a rippling within her belly and against his lips. He moved back surprised and stared at her with wide eyes. “Is that?”

Stands With a Fist nodded, her eyes sparkling with joy at finally sharing with her husband the movement of their child. “Strong and healthy… be a great Sioux.”

He could only nod in agreement.

Everything seemed to be going on course. They hadn’t seen a while person in months, not that he was leaving her anytime soon which had been his mistake two months ago. They were ridding side by side in silence. He was looking around, riffle ready in case he saw anything suspicious or any food. His ears were in tune to everything around him, including Stands With a Fist who appeared to be crying silently. He didn’t mention anything until she approached him, ready to talk.

They continued that way for a couple of more miles and they would have continued if Stands With a Fist hadn’t commanded her horse to stop. Dances With Wolves’ horse took a couple of more steps, the time that it took him to realize his wife had stopped. As soon as his horse stopped he jumped off it and went towards her. “Are you ready to talk?” He asked her in her native language, at least the one she considered her native language.

A small nod was the only signal that he received. He reached to place his hands on her hips, to help her get down. It wasn’t an easy task since she was already full with pregnancy. When they managed to safely place her feet on the ground Stands With a Fist leaned heavily against him, her breathing shallow as sobs wrecked through her body. He gently coaxed them into a sitting position, his arms around her, protecting her and making her feel safe enough to talk to him about what was causing her such distress.

“Stands… please tell me what’s wrong.” He continued.

Stands With a Fist looked at him and only cried a little harder. When she manage to calm down enough to talk she slowly told him what was wrong, her pace even too slow for talking in Lakota. “Our child is not going to be raised properly.” She finally accepted. “He or she will be raised the white way, won’t it?”

Dances With Wolves looked at her, his hand going to rest on her pregnant belly. He shook his head lightly before stopping. He wasn’t going to lie to her at all, that promise he had made the first time they had been separated. “Our child will be raised in the Sioux traditions, he or she will know everything that we know, everything that we teach, I do think that we should teach it both cultures, for his own advantage.”

Stands With a Fist listened carefully, holding tightly unto him and slowly calming herself. “Dances With Wolves.” She said softly as she thought what he said. “The white men will not take the baby, right?”

“No, no.” He quickly said in English before switching back. “I will not let them take our child away, both of you will be protected, I promise you Stands.”

“And our child will now how to hunt, how to use what is around to survive, how to understand nature, how to be peaceful?” She continued asking, needing to be reassured. “Will our child have a Sioux name or a white one?”

Dances With Wolves looked straight into his wife’s eyes; she was scared, not for her safety but for the safety of what she knew as her own. When he had been younger he had dreamed of having children and giving them proud English names, but now, after everything that had happened, all he wanted was to give his children what was best for them. “he or she will have a Sioux name.” He told her softly but strictly. “I want our child to be as beautiful and helpful as you or as strong and valiant as Kicking Bird, and that only comes from our Sioux teachings, you don’t have to worry Stands, you won’t lose what you know and you will pass it to our child.”

Having been reassured by her husband, Stands With a Fist leaned even more towards him. Her weight slowly made them lean back against the slightly wet grass underneath them until they were laying down. She only wanted to be with her husband, their child, and nature. Soon she fell asleep, one of her hands on her belly and dreamt of three children playing in the fields happy and protected.

“Dances With Wolves?” He could hear her voice from far away, but Dances was still remembering how beautiful she looked that time, her tearstained face in peace. “Dances?” She continued pressing. The voice changed from Lakota to English. “John Dunbar!” She exclaimed almost playfully.

Hearing his old name made him jump out of his daydream. He was still looking at the place that Stands With a Fist had been occupying but she wasn’t there anymore. Instead she was standing beside him, her hand located on her lower belly which of course made her belly stand out even more if it was possible. “Yes?” He asked trying to mask his surprise at not having seen her move away.

“It’s time.” She whispered as if by raising her voice again she would break something magical. “Our child meets father…. Soon.” She said in English, her eyes sparkling like never before.

He didn’t question how she knew their child would be born that day, instead he got up, took her hand in his and slowly lead her back to their small settlement. Today was the day a child of two white people would be born truly Sioux.