Red Berry Woman lay listening to the sobbing boy, tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes and leaving large dark spots on the deerskin pad she used for a pillow. Over and over, first in German and then in English, the boy repeated the same phrases:"Ich will zu meine Mutter ... I want my mother."

In time, she told her husband, Short Hair, the boy they had named Puma because of his dark, blond hair would come to accept them as his parents and the Tsis-tsis-tas way of life as his own.

During the day, as long as the sun was shining and the camp was bustling with activity, the four-year-old Puma presented a strong front, holding his chin high and stubbornly refusing to play the part of the cowering captive. Red Berry Woman watched him carefully, secretly proud of his defiance since she knew in her heart that if the experience of being yanked from his mother's protective arms by a rampaging warrior -- in this case, her husband -- broke his spirit he would never become the proud brave the Cheyenne code demanded of its males. It was only in the hours just before dawn, when he thought everyone was asleep and he could vent his feelings, that Puma allowed himself to surrender to his emotions.

"How very much like The People he has become already," Red Berry Woman told her husband. In response, Short Hair only grunted. "In time, we will test his bravery," he muttered.

Red Berry Woman was touched, too, by the concern the boy felt for his younger brother, which his foster parents, Large-footed Bull and Lightning Woman, had named Magpie because he was constantly chattering. Undoubtedly, she reasoned, it was because Magpie was only half Puma's age that the adjustment seemed smoother. But the fact that he was protective of his younger brother struck her as totally appropriate. It was not enough, she felt, that a warrior be brave; he must also have a streak of humanity that allowed him to care for others besides himself. The ability to love and empathize was a trait that Red Berry Woman would not allow to be denigrated by her husband or her daughter, a 13-year-old named Beaver Woman.

Not that there was any worry on that score. Beaver Woman had immediately taken to Puma, overcoming her initial repugnance at his pale skin, blue eyes, and light-colored hair. She spent hours with the boy, patiently trying to teach him the language and the rudiments of behavior that were expected of Cheyenne children.

That night, after the evening meal, as the fire burned down and Short Hair stared drowsily into the embers, Beaver Woman took Puma into her lap and whispered to him the oft-repeated Cheyenne creation tale. She told him -- although she knew he understood little because of the language barrier -- about how the Creator had made the first two people, a man from a rib on his right side and a woman from a rib on his left, then perversely put them so far apart, the woman in the north, the man in the south, that they never came together. It was only when the Creator made two more people and put them together in the same place that the tribe grew.

"Enough about the Creator," Short Hair grumbled. "Puma is a boy. Tell him how Rope Earrings killed the Ooetaneo'o, the hated Crow, with his magic arrow point, or about the courage of Lone Wolf, the chief of the Kit Fox Society, in which I myself am a member."

"He's too young to hear stories about war and killing, Father," Beaver Woman protested.

"A boy is never too young for that," Short Hair replied tersely.

"Yes, Ne-ho'e," Beaver Woman replied respectfully.

"Come here, Puma," Short Hair said gruffly, motioning to the boy.

Puma approached, looking confused.

"Sit here," Short Hair, said, patting the robe by his side, "and I'll tell you about a great Tsis-tsis-tas hero named Alights-on-the-Cloud."

Although he understood little of the language, the boy sat quietly, his eyes riveted on Short Hair as he related the tale. Beaver Woman, who had heard parts of the story many times, also listened attentively, enthralled by her father's recitation of tribal bravery.

"It was ten summers ago," Short Hair began, "and we were on a buffalo hunt when we came across some Ho'nehe-taneo'o, who also were hunting. Because we have long been at war with the Pawnee, we decided to attack. Alights-on-the-Cloud, who was much beloved by all the Cheyenne because he was very wise as well as very brave and always kind to others, was wearing the iron shirt he had taken years before from a Comanche he had killed in battle."

He paused, motioning to Red Berry Woman to prepare him a pipe. After he lit it, he continued with the tale.

"For all his bravery and wisdom, Alights-on-the-Cloud had one fault: he thought he was invincible. When the fight started with the Pawnee, Alights-on-the-Cloud told all our warriors that he would ride into the midst of the enemy and force them to empty their guns by firing at him, because as long as he was wearing the iron shirt he could not be hurt."

Short Hair puffed contentedly on his pipe, enjoying himself immensely. "One by one, the Pawnee shot at him but the bullets bounced off his chest. The arrows also were deflected, and it looked as if Alights-on-the-Cloud was going to emerge unscathed.

"But then," he said, his face turning solemn, "one of the Pawnee bowmen got lucky. His arrow hit Alights-on-the-Cloud in the eye, and he was killed instantly. Our warriors were so angered by this that they attacked. The charge was so vicious, that the Pawnee ran away."