From Bone Dancer...
Little Hawk rode beside a clear creek on a narrow trail. Turning often to check on the other horses, he noticed that they seemed to appreciate the slow pace. It would be wise to let them drink and rest before the final ride home. At the pace he was going, he should reach the village before nightfall. What would the people of the village say of him when they saw the many fine furs and horses he had taken from the Whites? And how proud Grandfather would be when Little Hawk distributed the bounty of his raid to the old and needy. It would put him in line for an appointment to the Kit Foxes or the Brave Hearts or the Crow Owners. He would be on his way to an honorable reputation as a warrior. Then, perhaps, even Tiger Flower would pay some attention to him.
Little hawk stopped beside a clear pool at the edge of the forest and dismounted, allowing the horses to drink. Suddenly, he heard the sharp thump of an arrow striking a tree. It had missed his head by the width a finger. Little Hawk swung around, reaching for the hunting knife in its sheath at his side. But it was too late. Three smiling Pawnee hunters with their bows at the ready faced him. They laughed. He was captured again.
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