The summer was drawing to a close. The days became shorter and the nights cooler. I had never paid more attention to the seasons than here. But that was the only way I could track roughly how much time had passed since my arrival. The weeks went by and with each passing day my hope that I would be able to get away from here soon became a little smaller.
Did I still want that? I pushed that thought away and went back to my work. Wihinapa and I were busy cutting strips of meat in front of the tipi to hang on a line to dry in the sun. It was the meat of a deer that Ohitika had killed. I had had to help Wihinapa gut the animal. At first I was dreading this job, but I've gotten used to it. Good thing I wasn't a vegetarian before. Then I would have had bad cards here.
From the village square I heard the monotonous, hypnotic beating of the medicine man's drum. The men danced the buffalo dance, for the great fall hunts would soon begin to stock up for the winter. They took turns every few hours, then others took over the heavy buffalo-skin robes and donned the horns, with which they moved lumberingly in circles like buffaloes.
"What's ailing Wakinyan?" asked Wihinapa. She used my Lakota name often now. I knew by now what it meant: Wakinyan-hihunji-win - Who comes with the thunder. It came from the fact that on the night Ohtika me A severe thunderstorm had raged, a white girl in strange clothing, appearing so suddenly in her hunting grounds... it must have seemed like the thunder had spat me straight out.
"I'm fine," I replied lightly.
I looked to Wihinapa's always busy hands. I'd made rapid progress with the language over the past few weeks and understood most of what was being said, although I still couldn't always express myself in the way I wanted to.
"We're moving soon?" I asked.
She smiled brightly at me. Her name, meaning "rising sun," suited her well. "Yes. To the buffaloes. Then there's feasts and dancing every night and we might even meet some acquaintances from other tribal groups."
I tried to put on a cheerful expression that hid my concern. "Will we come back here?"
"Chief Mazzukata will decide that. We usually spend the winter in sheltered hunting grounds, here in the Cheha Sapa or further west in the Chachli Wakpa region."
I didn't like moving away from here, because I hadn't given up hope that one day I might return to the cave. I didn't know exactly what I was hoping to find there. But that cave with its crystals had something to do with my arrival here, I was sure.
I sighed and went back to slicing up the tough raw meat and handing the strips to Wihinapa, who hung them on a line stretched between two sticks. After a while I noticed a young man running towards the chief between the tents. He was taking a break from the buffalo dance and stood at the edge of the village square to watch the other dancers. As the young warrior - a scout, I thought - approached, he turned to him and invited him to speak. I ignored her. Scouts often came and reported this and that to the chief—of game they had observed, or of tracks left by enemy tribes...
But fifteen minutes later the news had spread like a prairie fire throughout the village. When Wihinapa and I heard it from another woman, I felt a surge of excitement. I straightened up and looked for the announced guest who was supposed to be on his way to the village, but he was not yet in sight. Could it really be? Would I see a white man again after so many weeks?
Wihinapa gave me a worried sideways glance. "This is bearded Tom," she explained quietly. "He comes to us several times a year to trade. He makes a living alone in the mountains from hunting and trapping. We like him because he always brings the kids something special."
I pretended not to care at all, but internally my excitement was growing. Would I be able to speak to him? I had so many questions!
Half an hour later, the announced finally arrived. Accompanied by an escort of small boys and young men, he rode into our clearing on a bay horse. A long rifle hung from his saddle and he led a mule laden with sacks and packs wrapped in leather. I left my work and followed Wihinapa to the vacant central square where everyone was now gathering to greet the trader.
He really was bearded. A wild brown beard completely covered the lower half of his face. A few strands of silver ran through his hair. He had pulled his hat low over his forehead and squinted against the sun. His skin was so tanned that he didn't look much different from the Indians.
He dismounted his horse and hit the ground with his heavy boots. His clothes were light-colored suede, he wore a fringed jacket and worn pants. I was fascinated by this appearance, which could have come from an old western film.
Bearded Tom doffed his hat as he stepped in front of the chief and made the Indian gesture for 'Hello.
"Hello, Chief," he said in English, adding a few words in Lakota. He spoke it fairly well.
Mazzukata returned the greeting and gestured towards his tent with an outstretched arm. "Bearded Tom is welcome in the chief's tent."
"Thank you, Chief. But I have a few things to unpack first."
Tom went to his mule and untied one of the sacks, hauled it down and opened it. The children involuntarily crowded closer around him and when he looked at each other his eyes sparkled. I felt a bit reminded of Santa Claus and had to grin.
"Well, you little worms," ​​he said with his good-natured bass. "Uncle Tom has had a lot of time again, he's so lonely up in the mountains, so I carved this and that for you."
He began handing out small carved figurines to the small children, who received them in awe. I edged a little closer to get a better look. The figures looked like little Zica's wooden horse. Tom was a really gifted craftsman. There were all sorts of animal figures, bears, pumas, deer, wolves... But he also gave out little leather bags to the older kids. I watched as a girl opened her pouch and pulled out beads of a glassy, ​​dark amber material, which she licked enthusiastically.
"The sap of the maple," said Wihinapa, staying by my side. "He boils it until it hardens and makes candy out of it."
I could understand the children's joy, because I hadn't gotten much sweets here—except berries and other fruits of nature.
Suddenly bearded Tom looked up to make sure he hadn't forgotten anyone either. His gray eyes fell on me and stayed with me. My heart pounded against my ribs.
"Hey, you there," he called out in amazement in English. "Are you...?"
"I'm Marie," I croaked, aware that I was now the center of attention.

"A white woman..." said Tom, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe he was meeting someone like me in this village. It really couldn't be overlooked. My reddish blonde hair shimmered golden in the evening sun and rose from all the blackness around me. And my skin just wouldn't tan any more, it was exasperating. I hadn't looked at myself in a mirror for a long time, but even my underarms were covered with freckles. How did I have to my face look like?
"How did you get here?"
"That is a long story."
His expression darkened a little. "They didn't have you...?" he asked softly.
Suddenly Ohitika appeared on my other side. I didn't know where he came from, hadn't seen him all evening. But I felt his presence without having to turn to face him.
I cleared my throat. "They didn't kidnap me, if that's what you mean. I just... ended up here."
"Aha," Tom said, not sounding like he understood. I didn't understand myself, so how was I supposed to explain it to him?
"So are you a guest here?"
I nodded. "Roughly. Tom... tell me please," my voice trailing with excitement and I licked my lips, "what year is it?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Which year?"
I could only nod. He stroked his beard and shrugged. "The last time I was in civilization was 1864, but out here nobody cares..."
His voice faded in my ears. I had already suspected it, but actually hearing it now brought me back to the full extent of my situation. 1864! Over a hundred and fifty years in the past.
I got dizzy. I would never come back. I might as well have been on another planet. Even if I escaped from the village here, maybe went to 'civilization' with Tom, it wouldn't do any good. I'd still be here, all alone, stranded in a time that wasn't mine.
I turned on my heel and ran into our tipi, away from all the eyes staring at me. As if through a fog, I heard Tom's astonished shouts behind me, but I didn't pay attention. I slipped into the tent, the leather flap falling behind me, bathing everything in a comfortable twilight that made me feel safe and secure. It was back there in the corner... my backpack. In the meantime it had been returned to me. I pulled him towards me and squatted on my bed. I rummaged through it for something familiar, something that reminded me of the life I was meant to lead. in which I was at home. There was the Prospectus of the Presidents' Heads—a memorial that didn't even exist at the time. My raincoat, the hairbrush I bought with Sarah at DM. Sarah. I missed her so much. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I covered my face with my hands and let the sobs that erupted shake me.
When the door flap opened, I only felt it in the change in the light in the tent. I turned away from the entrance a bit, but didn't have the strength to stop crying. My shoulders shook and my face was wet with tears streaming down my neck and onto my lap.
Then I felt a warm hand on my back, first very gently, then slowly and gently stroking up and down. There was something comforting about the touch. I knew it was Wihinapa even though she didn't say anything. She just sat with me and let me cry until my tears stopped on their own. And as I wiped my face and turned to her, I suddenly felt that maybe I wasn't completely alone after all.

"Malie is sad. She wants to go home," I heard Wihinapa say quietly. Ohitika had come into the tent. I was grateful he had waited until I stopped crying. I didn't want him to see me so smeared and dissolved.
But I was amazed that Wihinapa seemed to know what was wrong with me, even though I hadn't told her. She understood me without words and that fact gave me a strange pang in the chest area.
Ohitika sat across from me. His face was serious, but not as withdrawn as usual. He studied me and I looked away. My eyes still felt puffy and I knew my face would get all blotchy when I cried. But if he found that repulsive because he thought my crying was weakness, he didn't show it.
"Malie has never spoken of her home," he said.
I sniffled softly. "It is very far away. I may never go there again," I explained, my voice still hoarse with tears.
Ohitika's jaw muscles tightened for a moment, as if making up his mind. Then he asked, "Can bearded Tom take you there?"
I looked up, surprised at the offer. I thought I was her prisoner? Would he really just let me walk away like that? But what good would that do me... I glanced at Wihinapa, who was sitting behind Ohitika, her brows furrowed in sadness. And I found that I hadn't felt like a prisoner in a long time. She had become a friend to me and the other villagers, apart from Thokala-gleschka, didn't see me as an outsider so much anymore. And Ohitika... I swallowed and slowly shook my head.
"No. He can't. It's not possible because... because I don't know how to get there myself. Just..." I stopped, but his gaze beckoned me to continue. "The cave," I explained. "I have to find the cave I was in. Back on the night of the storm when the bear came." I wasn't sure if there was a cave there, since I had woken up out in the woods, but it was the only clue I had.
Ohitika said nothing for a long time. There were muffled sounds outside, voices including Tom's harsh, loud one and high-pitched children's laughter, the barking and growling of two dogs fighting, the chirping of birds in the woods. I sat very still, trying to control my anxiety. Ohitika wouldn't be pushed, I knew that. I soon had to learn patience when dealing with this man. As in the very beginning, I couldn't read anything in his expression that would indicate his thoughts.
Finally, quite unexpectedly, he spoke. "I'll talk to Chief Mazzukata. If he allows it, Ohitika will go to the place in the mountains with Malie and look for this cave. Huh."
He rose cross-legged and slipped out of the tent before I fully realized the meaning of his words.