Firebird
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4
Firebird woke in the pre-dawn darkness to a familiar cramping low in her belly. She lay still for a moment, one hand pressed to her abdomen, and knew. Her moon time had come.
Morning Star was curled against her right side, one small hand tucked under Firebird’s midriff shirt as always, breathing softly in sleep. On the other side of the tipi, Red Hawk stirred, sensing she was awake.
She carefully extracted herself from Morning Star’s embrace and moved to where Red Hawk lay. Kneeling beside him, she whispered, “My moon time has started.”
He nodded, fully awake now, understanding immediately. “You will take Morning Star with you?”
“Yes. She cannot be without me for a week. And...” Firebird hesitated. “It’s time she learned about becoming a woman. Her body will change soon. She needs to understand before it frightens her.”
Red Hawk reached up and touched her face gently. “You are wise to teach her. She trusts only you.” He paused. “Will the other women...?”
“Accept her? Becky said they would. The moon lodge is sacred. No one will turn away a spirit child who comes with her protector.”
“Go then. I will tell the others you have entered your moon time. Take what you need.”
Firebird gathered their things—sleeping furs, a change of clothing for herself, Morning Star’s softest dress, dried meat and berries for the days ahead. She filled a water skin and collected the soft moss and leather ties the women used during moon time.
When everything was ready, she knelt beside Morning Star and gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up, little one. We’re going on a journey.”
Morning Star’s eyes fluttered open, confused. “Where?”
“To the moon lodge. It’s a special place where women go during moon time. Remember Becky told us about it?”
Morning Star sat up, suddenly excited. “Just us? Just you and me?”
“Just us, for several days. No men allowed—not even Red Hawk.” Firebird smiled at the girl’s delighted expression. “We’ll rest, and talk, and I’ll teach you things you need to know.”
“About being a woman?” Morning Star’s voice held wonder mixed with nervousness.
“Yes, baby. About being a woman.” Firebird helped her dress, then wrapped a blanket around her shoulders against the morning chill. “Come. The other women are waiting.”
They stepped out into the grey dawn. Red Hawk stood at the tipi entrance, and Morning Star threw her arms around his waist. “I’ll take care of her, big brother!”
He smiled—one of his rare, genuine smiles—and touched the top of her head. “I know you will. And she will take care of you.” His eyes met Firebird’s over Morning Star’s head, and something warm passed between them.
The moon lodge sat at the edge of camp, partially hidden by a stand of cottonwoods near the stream. Smoke rose from the smoke hole, and Firebird could hear low voices within—women talking, laughing softly.
She called out in Cheyenne, “We seek entrance. Firebird and Morning Star come to the moon lodge.”
The flap opened and Becky Sunflower appeared, smiling. “Welcome, sisters. Come, there is space by the fire.”
Inside, the lodge was warm and dim, lit by a central fire and the soft glow of dawn filtering through the hide walls. Five other women were there—some Firebird recognized, others she’d only seen in passing. All looked up as they entered, and their faces softened when they saw Morning Star clutching Firebird’s hand.
“The spirit child is welcome here,” said an older woman Firebird knew as Gentle Rain. “And the warrior who protects her. Sit, rest. You are among sisters now.”
Firebird settled near the fire, Morning Star immediately crawling into her lap. The other women went back to their quiet conversations, their beadwork, their rest. The atmosphere was peaceful, unhurried—so different from the constant activity of camp life.
Becky brought them warm tea made from willow bark and raspberry leaf. “For the cramping,” she explained. “And to help your moon time flow clean.”
Morning Star watched everything with wide eyes, taking in the women’s relaxed postures, their unbound hair, the way they moved slowly, without urgency.
“This is nice,” she whispered to Firebird. “It’s quiet here.”
“Yes, baby. This is a place of rest and renewal. For the next few days, we don’t cook, we don’t work. We just ... be.” Firebird kissed the top of her head. “And I’m going to teach you about your body, about what happens when a girl becomes a woman.”
Morning Star looked up at her, trust absolute in her dark eyes. “Will you tell me everything?”
Firebird smiled, even as her heart clenched with the weight of what she needed to explain to this eternal child. “Everything you need to know, in words you can understand. I promise.”
Preparing for the Moon’s Coming
The lodge was quiet that morning. Soft shadows stretched across the ground as the sun dipped behind the hills. Firebird sat close to Morning Star, her special spirit-child, whose wide, trusting eyes held the simple wonder of a child no older than five, though her body was growing strong and tall.
Firebird gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair from Morning Star’s forehead and spoke softly. “Morning Star, I need to teach you about your body. About changes that are coming.”
Morning Star’s gaze lifted to meet hers, unblinking, her small hands clutched in her lap.
“Do you see the moon tonight?” Firebird pointed upward. “The moon changes, little one. When the moon is full, it shines bright and strong, like magic in the sky. Just like the moon, your body has a special rhythm that will come soon—something called your moon time.”
Morning Star looked confused. She scrunched her brow, then held out a hand to touch Firebird’s cheek, as if reaching for comfort.
Firebird smiled, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s like a gift, Morning Star. Your body is getting ready to change. When this gift comes, blood will flow from between your legs for several days—”
Morning Star’s eyes went wide with fear.
“No, no, baby—it’s not like being hurt. It doesn’t mean you’re sick or broken.” Firebird pulled soft cloths and moss from a basket nearby. “See these? When your moon time comes, we put these here,” she gestured gently, “to catch the blood and keep you clean. Every woman has this happen. It means your body is becoming a woman’s body, strong and powerful.”
She held Morning Star close. “When the moon comes, we will come here, to the Moon Lodge, together. The other women will be here too. We rest, we tell stories, we honor the power of our bodies. You will never be alone. I will always be with you.”
Morning Star relaxed slightly, snuggling closer.
“But that’s not the only change coming, baby.” Firebird took a breath, choosing her words carefully. “Your body is growing. You’re getting taller. Soon, your chest will grow bigger—you’ll have breasts like mine.” She gestured to her own body. “Hair will grow in new places—under your arms, between your legs. Your hips will get wider. These are all signs you’re becoming a woman on the outside.”
Morning Star looked down at her own small chest, then back up at Firebird with questions in her eyes.
“And inside, you’ll feel new things too.” This was the hard part. Firebird’s heart beat faster, but she kept her voice calm and gentle. “Sometimes your body will feel warm. Tingly. Like you want to be touched in new ways, in new places. These feelings are natural, baby. They’re a gift from your body waking up. There’s nothing wrong with them. Do you understand?”
Morning Star nodded slowly, though Firebird could see she didn’t fully grasp it yet.
“When you feel those warm feelings, those tingles, you come to me. Always. You tell me what you’re feeling, and I will help you. I will touch you the way your body needs. I will give you comfort and pleasure because I love you and I am your protector. This is safe between us. This is sacred.”
Firebird tilted Morning Star’s chin up gently, making sure she was listening.
“But Morning Star, you must never, ever let anyone else touch you that way. Especially men. Do you hear me? Men will see that you’re growing into a woman’s body, and some might try to touch you. You must always say no. You must come find me immediately if anyone tries. Even if they say it’s okay, even if they say they’re helping you—only I can touch you like that. Only me.”
“Not Red Hawk?” Morning Star asked, her voice small.
“Red Hawk is safe. He’s your brother and he loves you. But no, not even Red Hawk. He knows you are mine to care for. He will never touch you that way. But other men—warriors, visitors, anyone—they are not safe. Do you understand, baby?”
Morning Star nodded more firmly this time. “Only you.”
“Only me,” Firebird confirmed, relief washing through her. “You are my special child. Your body is growing, but your spirit stays young and innocent. That’s what makes you sacred—you’re a spirit child. The touching between us is different than with other people because your heart and mind are like a little girl’s, but your body has a woman’s needs.”
She cupped Morning Star’s face in both hands. “When you feel the warm tingles, when you want to be held or touched or nursed—you come to me. When your moon time comes—you come to me. When you’re scared or confused—you come to me. I will never turn you away. I will never shame you. Whatever your body needs, whatever your heart needs, I am here. Always.”
“Always?” Morning Star whispered.
“Always. Even when we’re old women with grey hair. Even when we cross into the spirit world. You are mine, and I am yours. The mountains, the rivers, and the stars watch over you—and I watch over you forever.”
Firebird pulled her close, feeling the girl’s small frame relax completely against her.
“One more thing, baby.” Firebird’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “The touching we share is private. It’s sacred between us. We don’t talk about it with others. Not because it’s wrong—it’s beautiful and full of love. But because most people wouldn’t understand. They don’t know what it means to love a spirit child the way I love you. So what we share in our bed, in our private time—that stays between us. Like a secret the spirits gave us to keep. Do you understand?”
Morning Star nodded against her chest. “Our secret. Because they don’t understand.”
“Exactly. You’re such a smart girl.” Firebird kissed the top of her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You are my special baby, Morning Star. Though your mind stays young, like a little flower, your spirit is strong. And your body is becoming strong too. All of these things together make you who you are—perfect and sacred and loved.”
Together, they sat quietly as the sun slipped behind the hills, the soft light wrapping them in a calm promise of strength, care, and gentle change. The other women in the lodge had given them space for this private teaching, but now Becky Sunflower approached with warm tea.
“She understands?” Becky asked softly in English.
“She understands,” Firebird replied. “When her moon time comes, she’ll know what to expect. And when her body wakes up with new feelings...” she glanced down at Morning Star, already drowsy in her arms, “she’ll know she’s safe with me.”
Becky nodded with approval. “You’ve given her a great gift—knowledge without fear. That’s what every spirit child needs but rarely receives.”
Firebird held Morning Star tighter, grateful for the wisdom of Fasting Woman’s teachings, grateful for the courage to love without shame, grateful for this eternal child who had become the center of her heart.
Firebird’s First kill
The pale winter sun hung low above the jagged hills when Firebird pressed her back to the cold boulder. Frost clung to the shadowed rock, seeping into her buckskin sleeves, but she barely felt it. Her breath misted in the sharp air, visible only for a heartbeat before vanishing into the white silence that blanketed the Powder River country.
Somewhere deep in the box canyon, smoke from the lodges rose in thin columns behind the screen of pine—her people safe, for now. She had been tasked to protect the narrow southwest throat of the canyon entrance, where two massive stones stood like sentinels, forcing any rider to pass single file. It was her vigil, her test.
The warning had come moments ago from a swift-footed scout: two riders approaching—white men with the hard look of thieves or slavers. They rode with careless dominance, unaware of the trap that waited in the canyon’s mouth.
Firebird adjusted her grip on her knife. The hilt was worn smooth from years of another warrior’s hand, now hers. At five feet tall, her frame was small, but her spirit vibrated like a drawn, tight bowstring. Her thick, full waves of bright copper red hair spilled like flame down her back, a beacon to her name. The distant crunch of hooves grew into the sharp clop against frozen ground. She lowered herself into the deep shadow at the boulder’s base. First rider—dark coat, wide-brim hat—passed barely two arms’ lengths away, all focus ahead. Behind him followed the second, his mount’s flank brushing the stone.
Firebird moved with sudden, uncoiled speed—springing onto the rump of his horse, one arm crushing against his mouth before he could shout. The man jerked, wild-eyed, but the cold edge of her blade slid clean across his throat. Blood steamed in the air. She shoved him forward, planting her bare foot on his back. With a leap, her momentum carried her to the second horse’s rear.
one motion, she plunged her knife deep into the lead rider’s left side, just under the ribs. He gasped, trying to turn, pistol half-raised—a flash of steel and wood in his hand. The gun barked once. Somewhere ahead, a cry of pain rang out, female, but not fatal.
The man buckled in his saddle. She pushed him off the horse’s left side. She sprang down with him as he fell, kneeling over his heaving chest. His eyes flickered between shock and the slow fog of death. He wheezed, a wet rattle. Firebird studied him for a heartbeat, her mind calm. She thought No suffering. Clean kill.
She drove the blade into his heart to the hilt of her razor sharp knife. His body shuddered once, then went still. Snow-darken earth drank the warmth beneath him. Firebird rose, her hand and the knife dripping her enemy’s life blood
She threw her head back, arms lifting toward the pale sun, and her voice split the winter air—fierce, soaring, carrying over rock and snow until it echoed between the canyon walls.”Héé-ya! Héé-ya! The wind carries my spirit! The earth swallows my enemies! I am Firebird, flame of the Cheyenne! This is my first strike—my first song of victory! Let all hear—the warriors of my people fly strong and fearless!”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.