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clamped his hand over her mouth. She did not even have time to scream. With his other hand, he yanked her up against his body; it was impossible for her to escape.
    White Owl could almost feel the fear that radiated from her as her breaths were hitting the inside of his hand in short rapid gasps. Her body was rigid and unmoving, but he knew from their previous encounter that she was capable of putting up a valiant fight, so White Owl did not give her a chance.
    Pressing his mouth close to her ear, he said in a low tone of voice, “Do not fight me and do not scream. I will not hurt you.”
    She did not respond for a moment, then slowly she nodded.
    “I will release you, but if you scream or run, you will only be putting your family in danger,” he added.
    She nodded again, but White Owl did not release his tight hold on her just yet. With his face pressed against her head he was relishing the sweet smell of whatever it was that she used to wash herhair. He was reminded of the intoxicating scent after a summer rainstorm in the deep forest. If only he had time to pull the hairpins out of that prim little bun.
    “I will trust you not to scream,” White Owl said. “And you will trust me that I am not here to harm you or your family. If anyone is hurt, it will only be because you did something foolish.”
    She nodded again, this time even more vigorously.
    White Owl loosened his fingers from her mouth and exhaled a relieved breath when she didn’t start yelling for help immediately. She did nothing—she remained unmoving with her back still to him—even when he pulled his arm from around her waist. Finally, White Owl grasped her by the arm and turned her around so that they were facing each other. Her face was void of any color, and her wide, luminous blue eyes brimmed with tears.
    “Listen to me when I say that I do not plan to hurt you or your family,” he repeated.
    “Wh-what do you want?” she stammered in a voice that was barely more than a hoarse whisper.
    “You.” He said the single word almost painfully.
    Her eyes grew even wider, and if it was possible, her complexion paled more.
    “M-me? Why?”
    White Owl could barely hear her raspy voice. How could he explain something to her that he did not understand himself?
    “You—you are . . . I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about . . .” His voice trailed off. Heshrugged his shoulders as he struggled for the answer to her simple question. It was the first time in his twenty-four summers that he had been at a complete loss for words.
    They were so close that they were almost touching, but not quite. If White Owl leaned forward no more than an inch, their bodies would make contact. He held his body taut and unmoving. He wished he could just reach out and wipe away those tears that were now falling from those lovely blue eyes and rolling down her cheeks.
    “I . . . I,” White Owl drew in a deep breath. “There is something about you that touches me deep inside.” He put his fist up to his chest and sighed heavily. “Since that first day I spotted you watching the pony races, I could not get you out of my head, even before I saw your face. And now—” he paused, still trying to vocalize the strange feelings she had produced within him.
    “Now?” she whispered.
    White Owl studied the expression on her face. She was looking at him differently. The terror that had engulfed her a moment earlier was not as evident now, and to his surprise, she seemed curious to hear what he had to say.
    “Now?” he repeated. “How does a man explain something that he has never known? But from the first moment I looked into your face, I knew.”
    “You knew.” The breath she drew in trembled, making her lips quiver slightly.
    White Owl’s gaze locked with hers. He could lean down and kiss her now . . .
    “Rose,” a voice called out from the doorway of the barn. “Ma needs you.”
    “Oh my!” the girl gasped. “Hide. You need to hide now!”
    For a second,