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address you, or call out to you while we rest, then that is the name I will use.”
    A low growl was her captor’s only response.
    She leaned forward. “If you do not like that name, I could use zuzeca. ” This time she didn’t give the Cheyenne warrior a chance to speak. “Yes, that name is also fitting.”
    Winona took immense pleasure in the heavy silence. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. Her own daring surprised her.
     
    Night Shadow glared into the shadows. What game was this woman playing? His lips tightened; his temples throbbed with pain. Woman? The daughter of Hawk Eyes couldn’t be much older than Jenny would be.
    But she was old enough to marry. Thinking of whom she’d been about to marry sent throbbing pain shooting down along the scar. It settled in his tightly clenched jaw and ached like a badly torn muscle.
    Across from him, almost forgotten, Winona spoke. “It means ssssnake.” She’d lowered her voice, slurring the S sound so it sounded as though she were hissing the word.
    Night Shadow glared at her. He heard the smug satisfaction in her voice.
    “How about—”
    “Enough,” he ground out.
    A twig snapped. “Then give me a name,” she demanded.
    Night Shadow rubbed his temple and resisted the urge to jump to his feet and gag his troublesome captive. But in order to gag her he’d have to tie her, and he had no desire to hurt her or leave marks upon her body. Thus far he’d garnered her compliance by separating her from her sister. He tried to keep in mind that she truly was an innocent pawn in the game of revenge he’d set in motion.
    “I will give you a name if you stop with the questions.” Night Shadow waited. He heard her shift position, then sigh.
    “For tonight,” she agreed.
    Night Shadow figured that was reasonable. Why couldn’t she have been a submissive, frightened captive? Instead she seemed bent on making each day with him difficult. He stretched out his legs. No matter. His life for the past fourteen years had been hell on earth. What was another few months?
    Finding Jenny was all that he cared about.
    “Are you asleep? Give me your name.”
    The demand snapped him from the dark pit of despair that threatened to swallow him.
    “Clay,” he said, his voice deeper than normal as he struggled to maintain control over his emotions.
    “Clay?” Scorn laced her question. “That is not the name of a Cheyenne warrior.”
    Night Shadow scowled. Did she think him fool enough to give her his Cheyenne name? His fight with Henry Black Bear was his and his alone. He would do nothing to endanger his Cheyenne family. If Winona’s father learned who he truly was, he would retaliate against the innocent Cheyenne.
    Crossing his arms across his chest, he leaned his head back. “You asked for a name. I gave you the name my father gave me.”
    “Your white father?”
    Night Shadow ignored the derision in her voice. Instead of allowing himself to be drawn into a battle of words, he closed his eyes. “No more talk. We ride soon.”
    The night hid the pain he knew would be reflected in his eyes and etched in deep lines around his mouth. Darkness crept through him, swallowing and invading, smothering his soul and spirit.
    The sound of his name spoken aloud for the first time since that tragic day left him shaken. Why had he given her a name long dead to him? He’d planned to give her a false name, but the name Clay had left his lips.
    Nightmarish images of a day he longed to forget flew at him like arrows from the enemy: each one found its mark in his heart, until he felt as though he were once again dying.
    But he could not forget—dared not forget—not even for a short while. The past had given birth to Night Shadow, a warrior with a thirst for revenge so strong it became the reason he survived, and gave him the courage to live.
    His fingers gripped his wrists as he stared into the darkness, seeing nothing but more pain and more black nights ahead. Yet, at the end of that