Shakti had proven himself in battle with the Long-knives and the Pawnee. He was not a boy, but a man, tall and fair to the eye.
"Why then," his mother questioned, "do you not choose a maiden and give your father and me grandchildren? Are there not plenty of comely girls in the village? Are you not well-respected for your hunting skill? Would not any elder in the whole camp be honored to bless a union between you and his daughter?"
It was not that the young warrior was contented to be alone. He had taken notice of a stunning maiden named Trishna. Shakti felt an exquisite pain in his heart every time he saw her. He ached to touch her shimmering hair and share with her the love that burned in his heart. He was a shy man, though. For all of his courage in battle, Shakti shook with fear at the thought of speaking to Trishna.
He often watched for her at daybreak when she went down with the other girls to fill her water skin at the brook. Three times he meant to speak to her, but could not. He came out from behind the tree where he was waiting so she would see him, but when he opened his mouth, the words did not come. The last time Trishna lingered as she filled her water bag until the other girls had gone back up the hill. Perhaps she was hoping that Shakti would speak to her, but he was frozen with fear. Their eyes met as she passed him on her way back up the path to the village. Trishna smiled, but still he could not say what was in his heart.
The only way he could express such emotions was by playing his siyotanka, the handsome flute his father had given him on the occasion of his first successful hunt. He poured out his emotions in a plaintive melody. The song was unlike any he had ever heard; it came from somewhere deep inside of him. The whole village came to know the haunting melody as Shakti's song because he played it over and over when his day's work was done. If only he could tell Trishna the song was for her.
At night, when dreams of Trishna would not let him rest, Shakti often left his empty tepee and went to the edge of the village. He leaned against a tree and played the sweet soft notes that spoke of his yearning for his beloved. He knew that she was lying on her buffalo robe in her parent's tepee not far away. Perhaps she would hear him play her song and think of him.
It was on one such night that the world changed for Shakti. The stars in the heavens twinkled against the dark sky. The moon was bright and clear and bathed the forest with a soft light that made the trees seem magical. Shakti was sitting beneath an ancient oak with the velvet notes of his siyotanka drifting into the heavens. Never had his melody of love been more mournful or more lovely as he dreamed of the beautiful maiden, Trishna. He knew it was only a matter of time before such a rare jewel would be claimed by another man in the village - one braver than he. He couldn't bear the thought of Trishna taken to wed to the tepee of another. Shakti paused from his song to wipe a tear from his eye and heard a rustle in the brush.
Perhaps it was a bear sent by the Great Spirit to end his misery, he thought, as he sprang to his feet. But it was not. A figure appeared from the shadows. It was his beloved, Trishna, glowing in the moonlight. Shakti was speechless.
"I followed the sound," she said smiling.
Shakti could only look at her in wonder, transfixed by the miracle of her appearance.
When he did not respond, Trishna looked down at her moccasins. "Did I do wrong to come? I thought the song was for me."
"It is for you, Trishna. It's always been for you." That night Shakti found another way to express his love for Trishna without the necessity of words. The whole village celebrated the next day when Trishna moved her belongings to Shakti's tepee.
THE END