Weeping Tiger glared at the teepee on the far end of the camp. There Prowling Thunder lay in bed with another woman, a whore from another village. Weeping Tiger fumed, her black hair swirling around her ominously in the wind.
Redfoot approached her carefully. "You should not think of him so. The two of you were never promised. It's a man's right to choose."
"Mind your own business," Weeping Tiger snapped.
Her best friend sighed and shook her head. "When you're done sulking, you know where to find me. And I will accept your apology."
She walked away, leaving Weeping Tiger alone by the skinny tree, far from happy and even farther from contrite.
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