But as he came closer through the white tree trunks, a hand raised in greeting, she saw he was not White Bear. His full head of hair had a brave's feathers tied into it. A Winnebago. She saw a second rider behind him. An attack? But they were approaching slowly, their hands empty. The Winnebago dismounted and led his pony till he was standing over them. He wore four red and white feathers, one hanging from each silver earring, two tied into his hair. A leader of warriors. Heart pounding, she moved protectively closer to the lean-to where Eagle Feather lay. Owl Carver slowly got to his feet. She glanced at him, and when she saw how grim his face was, her own terror increased. Another Winnebago rode out of the woods, dismounted and stood beside his companion. The first man turned to take something from his saddle. Scooping Floating Lily up in her arms, Redbird leaped up to give the alarm. The brave held out a restraining hand. "Wait! We are two only, and we come to talk peace." The man spoke Sauk. He faced her, smiling tentatively, and held up a beautiful calumet, its red pipestone bowl gleaming in the sunset, its polished hickory stem as long as a man's arm. Owl Carver drew himself up in all his white-haired shaman's majesty. "Who are you?" "I am called Wave," said the man holding the calumet. "This is He Who Lights the Water. He does not speak Sauk." Redbird glanced down into the lean-to, to make sure Eagle Feather was all right. "Who is in the lean-to?" Wave asked a little suspiciously as He Who Lights the Water stepped forward to look in. "My grandson," said Owl Carver. "He is sick." "Many of you must be sick. And hungry," said Wave. "Time your leaders took pity on the women and children and ended this war." More Sauk men and women were coming over now to see the newcomers. The two Winnebago were men of courage, Redbird thought, coming alone as they had into a camp of fifty or more desperate people. Redbird's mother came to stand beside Owl Carver. She asked what was wrong with Eagle Feather, and Owl Carver explained in a whisper. "Children will eat anything they can get their hands on," Wind Bends Grass scolded. "Now he will probably grow up to be a madman." Redbird held back a shriek of rage. Black Hawk and the Winnebago Prophet strode through the gathering crowd to face the newcomers. Black Hawk carried under one arm one of those heavy paper bundles captured at Old Man's Creek. He glanced at Redbird, and she thought she saw reproach in his eyes, even though he had said he forgave her for her part in Yellow Hair's and Woodrow's escape. Flying Cloud addressed Wave in a strange tongue. "This Winnebago brave is the son of my sister," said the Prophet pompously in Sauk. _Does he think that means we are saved?_ Redbird wondered, sick of the Winnebago Prophet forever claiming that victory awaited just a little farther along the trail, when it was so clear that the trail led only to death.