After the meeting where my judgment was passed, Ohitika took me outside. Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to take my backpack and all my belongings with me. His teepee was on the outskirts of the village, near the edge of the forest. I immediately had to think that maybe I could escape better that way. If the opportunity arose, I wanted to take it because I certainly wouldn't be a prisoner in an Indian village. I had to meet other white people somewhere. _White_ ... Now I was thinking like an Indian.
The Ohitika tipi was smaller than the meeting tent. Here, too, the floor was covered with blankets and skins, which made it look quite cozy. Along the walls of the tent were all sorts of everyday items, as well as a few of those three-legged wicker frames that served as a kind of backrest.
A young woman, more like a girl, was sitting by the hearth, doing some handwork. She held a cut piece of leather in her hands and made stitches with a thick bone needle. When she looked up and a streak of light from outside fell on her face, I saw that she was quite pretty. She had large brown doe eyes, even features, and thick raven braids that fell over her shoulders. Her ears were adorned with round pendants about the size of two euro coins and made of a shiny yellowish-white material that shimmered like mother-of-pearl.
She couldn't be older than me, I thought as I took a closer look. Was that his wife? I felt a faint pang of jealousy at the thought, although that was totally nonsensical. I didn't want anything from Ohitika!
The girl kept her big eyes fixed on me. They looked at me as intently as Ohitikas, and I suddenly noticed the similarity in their facial features—same straight nose, high cheekbones, and full lips... Maybe she was his sister.
Ohitika told her something in Lakota and she listened without interrupting. Then she bowed her head and put her handwork aside. Ohitika left the tent and the girl came towards me. She moved as gracefully as a ballet dancer. In contrast to her, I felt like a bumpkin.
"Wihinapa," she said, pointing to her chest as she stopped in front of me. She was about the same height as me.
I assumed she meant to tell me her name. "Wi-hi-napa?" I repeated. The strange sounds tickled my throat. It was a very throaty language.
She smiled and appeared to be enjoying herself. My pronunciation probably sounded odd to her. I told her my name and she repeated it, pronouncing it with an "l" instead of an "r" just like Tatanka Wakon did.
"Malie." Even after several auditions, she couldn't get the "r" right. Maybe that letter didn't exist in their language. Like the Chinese, I thought. I shrugged my shoulders. It didn't bother me. I wouldn't stay long anyway.
Wihinapa frowned as if frustrated at her own incompetence. Then her gaze wandered down to me and her eyes narrowed. My bare legs were probably taboo here. I had seen a kind of long pants under the knee-length dress on all women. She motioned for me to come along and led me to the back of the oval tent interior. There were some stacked leather blankets, cookware, and various leather bags and sacks whose contents I could only guess at.
Wihinapa opened a leather blanket to reveal a white suede dress. When she unfolded it and held it up in front of me, I saw that it was embroidered on the sleeves and shoulders—not with beads, as I had often seen on Native American jewelry, but with long, thin stripes in shades of red, brown, and yellow . Long fringes hung down the bottom hem and under the sleeves. It actually looked quite pretty and the leather felt soft and supple. She held the dress out to me and looked at me invitingly.

"Me?" I asked, dumbfounded, pointing at me. She wanted me to wear this beautiful dress, which was even more decorated than her own?
She nodded. I shrugged. All right, as she wished. She also handed me a pair of leggings, also made of white leather—actually they were just a pair of knee-length leg warmers—and embroidered moccasins. I was a little embarrassed to undress in front of her, when at least she averted her eyes. But as I stood there in my bra and panties, her eyes widened and I could see the questions in them. What a pity we haven't been able to talk to each other yet. I decided to keep my underwear on for now and wash it at the next opportunity. Then I tried to put on the leather leggings, and it seemed like I was pretty stupid doing it, because Wihinapa giggled and came to my aid. She wrapped them around my calves and fastened them above the knees with leather straps, noticing my bandage on my ankle. It was an odd way of wearing pants—they left the thighs all bare... Wasn't Wihinapa wearing panties?
I slipped on the dress myself and then slipped on the moccasins, which fit me surprisingly well. When I was done, I tugged at my new robe, which hung to just below my knees. I felt disguised, a bit like carnival. But it fit me fine. I wouldn't stand out as much now...apart from my strawberry blonde hair, of course.
Wihinapa mumbled something in Lakota and gave me a questioning look while touching my ponytail. I nodded, knowing what she wanted from me. She removed the hair band and examined it curiously, pulling the elastic apart between her fingers and snapping it back again. He jumped out of her hand. She looked at me startled. I grinned and after a moment's hesitation, a bright smile appeared on her face as well, showing her white teeth. At that moment I felt a certain connection to her and was reminded of my best friend Sarah. As different as we were, Wihinapa was ultimately just a girl like me.
She began detangling my hair with a bone comb, then braided it into two pigtails that fell over my shoulder, though not quite as long as hers. Now I would have liked a mirror to examine my transformation. Anyway, Wihinapa looked very pleased as she stood in front of me and gave me a scrutinizing look, hands on hips.
She said something, a torrent of words in which I thought I could only make out the word Ohitika. Since I didn't understand anything, she finally sighed and made a funny face that made me grin. Finally she took my hand and pulled me out of the teepee.
I spent the whole day with Wihinapa. I saw nothing of Ohitika; most of the other young men also seemed undressed. Only a few children played in and around the tent village and the women went about their business. First we went into the shady grove where we met some other women gathering wood. They weren't staring straight at me, but I could feel their shy eyes when they thought I wasn't noticing. Wihinapa showed me which dry branches to pick up and how best to carry them on my back.
"Chan," she said, pointing to the wood. I understood that she was trying to teach me something Lakota and repeated everything she showed me. The other women and girls listened and smiled behind their hands when I I was stupid at the pronunciation. Some, however, looked at me with undisguised suspicion. I noticed again that I was dressed comparatively formally. All the other women wore only simple brown leather dresses without much embellishment. Wihinapa must have provided me with her best attire I was hoping I wouldn't tear it apart by snagging on a branch or something.

In addition to the wood, we also collected some edible berries and roots, which I later cut into small cubes in front of the tent to prepare our supper, a meat broth. Wihinapa showed me how to light a fire. How deftly she rubbed the two sticks together... the bottom one had a circular indentation into which the other stick was placed and twirled rapidly between the hands until smoke rose. She blew on it and stuck some dried moss in between to feed the small flame. When I tried, I failed miserably. But she just smiled indulgently.
She added the root vegetables and a few dried strips of meat to the water that was bubbling in the suspended leather bag with hot stones. Since we were cooking outside because it would have been too warm inside the tent, I could see everything that was going on. The half-wild dogs sniffed around our kettle. In the meantime they had gotten used to my strange smell. I avoided them anyway, just to be on the safe side. Now and then Wihinapa would shoo them away with a pebble thrown.
In between, the old woman came over to us and took off the bandage made of birch bark. I was amazed to find that the swelling underneath was almost gone and it didn't hurt anymore.
My stomach growled as the smell of food rose from all around us. The sun was already low over the horizon and meanwhile the first men were returning home, many of them dressed only in loincloths and with captured small animals in their hands. But Ohitika didn't come. I squinted at Wihinapa, who didn't seem concerned.
She filled us both a bowl of the soup and I spooned it up with little enthusiasm. Again, I sorely missed the salt and other spices I was used to. If there was only stew here every day, it would be a very monotonous diet. But I had to strengthen myself if I ever wanted to dare to escape.
After lunch, Wihinapa took me to a spot on the river that was relatively flat and wide and easily accessible from the bank. It was already dusk, mosquitoes or small flies buzzed in clouds near the water and blew away as soon as we approached. Some women and girls were bathing in the river, all naked. Luckily there were no men here! Wihinapa made short work of getting rid of her clothes. Then she waded into the water and slipped all the way in. I was still undecided on the bank. She turned to me and waved at me.
I slowly undressed and looked around unobtrusively. The bathing spot was a little off the clearing, hidden from the tents by trees and bushes. It was getting dark quickly, the last violet glimmer was already over the horizon and was gradually fading into gray. What if I snuck away from here? When Wihinapa wasn't looking because she was swimming... But there were the other women. Little by little they came out of the water again and rubbed themselves down with sand before they put on their clothes. I just took off my moccasins and leggings, I didn't want to take off my dress in front of them all. Then I gathered up my skirt and went into the water with my feet, where I washed my face as best I could. Wihinapa gave me a surprised look, but she didn't push me, and for that I was grateful.
By the time we got back to the tents, darkness had fallen over the village. Now the tipis glowed from within with a diffused golden glow like giant lanterns. The painting on the leather covers came to the fore in this way. In fact, everything seemed very peaceful. You could almost think I went to a camp during the holidays, where we all dressed up like Indians. But that wasn't true. I was still a prisoner here and everything was so strange to me.
Wihinapa was still whispering to a friend in front of the tent while I withdrew and slipped into my tipi on my camp, which she had shown me earlier. It was in the back, near the tent wall. I listened to the faint words of a foreign tongue and the sounds of the night... the call of an owl, a crackling sound in the undergrowth of the nearby forest, the soft whinnying of a horse tethered to a nearby tent... all of it would have I could easily rock myself to sleep, but I was too agitated inside. I thought of my family, my friends. What I would have given to write one of Frau Buhner's unannounced tests. Or being annoyed by my brother Max. Although Wihinapa was a nice girl, she couldn't take the place of Sarah, who I could talk to about anything.
When Wihinapa entered the tent, I pretended to be asleep. She moved almost silently and did not light a fire, but undressed and slipped under her blankets as well. Their camp was an arm's length from mine. I lay still, even fighting back the urge to swipe at a mosquito buzzing cheekily around my ear. I finally heard her even breathing.
Why hadn't Ohitika come back yet? Anyway, this was my chance! I felt a little guilty... Wihinapa had treated me so kindly, and now I was going to steal her best dress—because I didn't think I could undress and dress in the dark without waking her. I would give her my old stuff for that. Very quietly, I threw back the blanket and crawled towards the tent wall. My knees and hands made no sound on the soft skins.
The leather walls of the tipis were held to the ground with wooden pegs from the outside. I took a good look at it in daylight. I lay flat on my stomach and stuck my arm under the tent wall as far as I could. Then I tried to pull one of the stakes out of the ground with my hand. It was stuck deep and it took forever for me to loosen it a bit. I broke out in sweat all over my body. At any moment Wihinapa could wake up or Ohitika could come home. Finally the downward tapering wood slid out of the ground. Now the opening under the tent wall was wide enough for me to push through.
I held my breath until I made it. Outside lay stock still for a while, heart pounding in fear. Ahead lay the dark edge of the forest, no other tent I had to sneak past to reach it. The opportunity was favourable. Seeing or hearing nothing to indicate that anyone had noticed me, I crouched and hurried as quietly as possible towards the dark tree line. Where should I turn? I didn't know and decided to worry about it later. What a pity I had to leave my backpack behind, but anyway there was nothing useful left in it that would have helped me escape.
I hit the dark undergrowth. It crunched and rustled under my feet. So I could only move very slowly and carefully, especially since I could hardly see my hand in front of my face. The moonlight fell only mutedly through the dense treetops.
When I reached the river, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I could keep walking in the water and at the same time would cover my tracks. I also knew that the river would lead me back to my starting point in the mountains.
I took off my moccasins and was about to wade into the water when suddenly a hard hand grabbed the back of my neck.
I jumped so violently as if I had been struck by lightning. I almost cried out and I thought my heart had stopped. But then it began to throb all the faster and harder. The hand released me, but I couldn't move, didn't even dare to turn around.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure loomed in front of me. The moonlight reflected off the river water illuminated the young man's slightly wry features. I finally recognized him by the collar of bones—this was the guy who had been arguing with Ohitika in the meeting tent. He hadn't given me a particularly friendly look back then, and he seemed just as grumpy now. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at his gaze. He was lewd and hateful at the same time. What had I done to him?
"Vitkovin vashichu," he spat at me, and a few other things I didn't understand.
I took a step back, but his hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, hard. He pulled me closer to him with a jerk, almost bumping into his broad, bare chest. I swallowed. He stared me in the face and ran his free hand up my arm. Now I wanted to let out a scream, but my throat was constricted.