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Share this on Facebook Share this on Twitter. Share All sharing options for: (Updated) 2021 WNBA Free Agency: Odyssey Sims could be key addition for Atlanta Dream. Odyssey Sims (with ball) averaged 9.4 points for the in 2020. Photo by Ned Dishman/NBAE via Getty Images. The Atlanta Dream made yet another move on Monday, signing veteran guard Odyssey Sims, who has averaged 12.8 points per game over her seven-year WNBA career. A lot has happened for the Atlanta Dream in recent weeks, most notably the selling of the team to Larry Gottesdiener and retirement of Renee Montgomery, who is now a part-owner of the team. The Dream also added Shatori Walker-Kimbrough on Feb. 22. and a versatile forward in Tianna Hawkins on Feb. 4. Plus, Atlanta signed Yvonne Turner and Kaela Davis to training camp contracts, waived and and suspended the contract of Maite Cazorla — all since the signing of Hawkins. Earlier in free agency, Atlanta lost its top free agent, Betnijah Laney, to the , and welcomed Cheyenne Parker from the . The Dream have four very good players returning to College Park: Courtney Williams, , and Elizabeth Williams. The franchise likely wants to build around that core, plus Parker and last year’s No. 3 overall draft pick, . Can Hayes finally become the “Batman” for a WNBA team? Can Carter become the prolific scorer she seems destined to be? These are pressing questions for the Dream, who finished 7-15 in the 2020 Bradenton bubble and missed out on the playoffs. Here’s a look at where Atlanta stands: By the numbers* Free agents (type) (average salary) (new salary): Glory Johnson (unrestricted) ($165,000) Renee Montgomery (suspended-contract expired) ($107,000) Betnijah Laney (unrestricted) ($91,350) Blake Dietrick (restricted) ($68,000) (reserved) ($59,750) Kaela Davis (restricted) ($57,000) ($70,040) Total average salary of free agents Johnson, Dietrick and Agnew: $292,750. Total team salary currently: $1,287,540. Cap space currently: $51,460. Analysis. Renee Montgomery has retired from the WNBA after a stellar career. Photo by Scott Cunningham/NBAE via Getty Images. The retirement of Renee Montgomery has allowed the Dream to make a lot of new additions and has made their salary cap situation less complicated. We previously reported: As a key contributor with a championship, (Tianna) Hawkins saw her pay double to $140,000 in 2021 and climb to $144,200 for 2022. She is the 12th player under contract for the Dream, who now may have to cut Mikayla Pivec ($58,141) and another young player (either Brittany Brewer or Maite Cazorla) to create more cap space. But let’s say they cut Pivec and Brewer (who is more expensive than Cazorla) and keep the No. 3 draft pick. That would leave them with just $82,710 to pay Renee Montgomery, which would be a pay cut of $24,290. If Atlanta goes with 11 players by cutting Cazorla or in addition to Pivec and Brewer, it would be left with $141,420 to pay Montgomery, which is a more realistic number. With Atlanta stacking up its frontcourt, it is looking more and more like it will not keep Glory Johnson, who made more than $141,420 last year. Odyssey Sims, the Dream’s latest addition, is a great scorer when at her best. She averaged 16.7 points and 4.2 assists per game as a rookie with the Tulsa Shock in 2014. Her best distributing season came just two years ago when she averaged 5.4 helpers for the Minnesota Lynx. She also had a solid scoring average of 14.5 in 2019 and made the All-Star Game before playing a lesser role for the Lynx in 2020. She played a career- low 18.5 minutes per game in the Bradenton bubble, but still averaged 9.4 points and 3.5 assists. The Dream are only paying Sims $75,000 for 2021. The rest of her cap hit of $119,000 will be taken by the , who waived Sims after receiving her in a trade from the Lynx. Atlanta is left with 11 players signed and still does not have enough money to pay the No. 3 overall draft pick, which was the case before it signed Sims and suspended Cazorla’s contract. We previously reported: Atlanta does not currently have enough money to pay the No. 3 overall pick (it has $67,750 and needs $70,040), which means more moves are likely coming. It also means that unless they cut someone a little more expensive than the player minimum of $58,710 (such as at $70,040) they will have to run with 11 players. Now the Dream only have $51,460 left, which is less than the player minimum, meaning they can’t add a 12th player unless they cut or trade someone worth $65,960 or more. Cutting any one player (such as Kalani Brown at $58,710) would give them enough money to pay the No. 3 overall pick, but if they want to keep the No. 3 pick and have 12 players, they would have to cut or trade someone worth $77,290 or more. So it would have to be Walker-Kimbrough at $85,000, assuming the Dream don’t want to part ways with any of their core players. Walker-Kimbrough was making a very small amount of money ($52,656) for a solid bench contributor (who even started 10 games in 2020) and her former team, the , simply could not afford to pay her the money she deserves. At least she got a slight pay raise now that she has signed with the Dream. She brings speed and 3-point shooting to the table. The additions of Sims, Walker-Kimbrough, Hawkins and Cheyenne Parker could make the Dream more competitive than they were last year. Hawkins was one of the ’ top bench players during their 2019 WNBA championship run and averaged 9.5 points in 2019 and 8.5 points in 2020. She was a phenomenal rebounder and inside scorer at the University of Maryland and, at 6’3”, Hawkins still has those skills to go along with 3- point shooting and ball-handling skills that she has developed in the pros. With the addition of Parker, the Dream have added a frontcourt player who performed far better than Johnson did last year, though Johnson is a former All-Star. Parker, meanwhile, averaged 13.4 points and 6.4 rebounds per game in 2020 (compared to Johnson’s 4.7 points and 3.7 rebounds). Parker also is two years younger than Johnson. We previously reported: The Dream’s top priority should be re-signing Betnijah Laney, who, after her accomplishments last year, is now deserving of more money than the average salary of $91,350 on her last contract. How much the Dream pay Laney will dictate their ability to keep Renee Montgomery and Glory Johnson. There is a scenario where Atlanta could keep all three players, but it may require Laney to agree to less money and the team to forego signing draft picks beyond their No. 3 overall pick. It would also mean cutting Mikayla Pivec (which the Dream may do anyway because of roster constraints) and either Brittany Brewer or Maite Cazorla, the latter of whom showed promise in 2019 before sitting out 2020 due to personal reasons . Laney was the Dream’s second-leading scorer last year (behind Carter) and named to the WNBA All-Defensive First Team. She has all the skills needed to become a big star. The only question mark is whether last year’s offense was a bit of a fluke after Laney spent a few years making a name for herself on defense. A look to her career at Rutgers shows her big numbers are likely no fluke at all. She averaged 14 points and 13.9 rebounds as a senior. As for the more established veterans, Johnson is a better all-around talent than Montgomery and, at age 30, four years younger. However, she underachieved in 2020, and is far more expensive than Montgomery ($165,000 compared to $107,000). Keeping Montgomery, a guard, may be a higher priority than keeping Johnson, a forward, especially when the team did fine in the rebounding department and struggled in assists. Offensive rebounding was the Dream’s best statistical category in 2020. They finished third in the league thanks to Monique Billings (2.6 per game), Elizabeth Williams (2.2) and Courtney Williams (1.9). Johnson averaged just 3.7 total boards and just 15.1 minutes. The Dream will likely have a shot at getting Arella Guirantes, Dana Evans or Aari McDonald — all high-ceiling guards — at No. 3 in this year’s draft. The Dream also have the No. 15 and No. 27 picks. This story has been updated to include the departure of Betnijah Laney, the acquisitions of Cheyenne Parker, Tianna Hawkins, Shatori Walker- Kimbrough and Odyssey Sims, the signing to training camp contracts of Yvonne Turner and Kaela Davis, the waiving of Brittany Brewer and Mikayla Pivec, the suspending of Maite Cazorla’s contract and the retirement of Renee Montgomery. Cheyenne Storm: Cheyenne Series, #1. Sylvie thought her father was killed at sea. However, everything changes when she discovers his hidden letters to her mother. Sylvie leaves France with her new husband to find her father in the States. In the War of 1812, America battles with England. British soldiers interrupt Sylvie and Daniel's dinner with President Madison's wife. The British burn Washington and the presidential mansion. Sylvie and Daniel flee for their lives, but the harsh frontier takes Daniel's life. Devastated and alone, Sylvie refuses to ever love again. Storm-Chaser, a Cheyenne warrior, rescues Sylvie and claims her as his own. But love has scarred him and he keeps his wolf-shifting a secret. Will the white-woman ever see him as a man and if she knew the truth of the wolf that follows her to keep her safe, would she see him as a monster? Unable to accept a savage's love, Sylvie plots her escape. She is determined to find her father and return to France, but will she be able to forget the proud warrior who captured her heart? Об авторе. Rea Renee is pen name of self-published author of historical romance. Always love, but sometimes history is darker than sugar-coated stories. Rea's stories are dark, adventurous, and captivating. Sign up for her newsletter and receive advance notice of sales, contests, new releases and more: http://eepurl.com/brhxVb. Связанные категории. Предварительный просмотр книги. Cheyenne Storm - Rea Renee. November 7, 1812, Colorado. Storm-Chaser woke to an owl hooting. He rolled over to gather Leaping-Deer into his arms, but only found empty buffalo furs. He bolted upright, sweat beading across his forehead. Then his mind realized the truth that he’d wrestled with for months. She was gone. He cursed himself that he didn’t make her stay behind that day. She was pregnant and just past the stage of all day nausea. Cooped up for weeks because of her condition, he couldn’t refuse her when her dark eyes held such hope of stretching her legs and running through the forest in her animal form. I’ll be careful. Just a short run…prance then, so you don’t scowl at me. For a long time, he stayed in his wolf form and watched her from a distance. When she spotted him, she nudged him away. Reluctantly, he left her to join a nearby wolf pack. Then the gun sounded. He shook off his wolf-brothers’ warning and raced through the forest. A hunter tied her legs together and Storm-Chaser snapped his jaws on the man’s throat. The sweetness of the blood filling his mouth almost made him forget he was human. When the man no longer breathed, Storm-Chaser dropped him and spat out what blood he could. He shifted. Naked, he reached for her. She, too, had now shifted back to her human form. He knew she was vulnerable in her deer-form. Why hadn’t she listened to him? I will take you to White-Hawk. He will heal you and the baby. It’s too late. I feel the baby and me both slipping away. Promise me, you will look for love again. Don’t harden your heart when it comes to you— even if she doesn’t understand it with her mind and words, your and her heart will know it. Shhh…you aren’t going anywhere. I will not let you die. How could he marry another? She was his wife and heart. Without her, there was no love inside him. She smiled and kissed him. Her spirit left her body and he shook, holding her. The others came to him, telling him she was gone, but he could not let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. March 30, 1814, France. Sylvie brushed her wheat-colored hair out of her face, as she searched her grandfather’s library for something to read. The scent of his cigars lingered in the air as her bare feet sunk into the blue and silver lined Oriental rug. Removing a tome of Homer’s collections of the Iliad and the Odyssey , a dark book with gold markings, lay beyond them. Putting Homer aside on the three-legged guéridon table next to her gloves, Sylvie eased out the dark book hidden behind. What is this? She opened a latch on the book and inhaled sharply at seeing a mound of letters. Father? Many were unopened and marked from America. When she was a child, her father left for America to seek his fortune as a fur trapper. Grandfather had told her and her mother that he died in a shipwreck that washed up bodies on France’s coast for weeks. Sylvie’s legs wobbled and she plopped down on the rug with the letters spilling out of the secret box. A mixture of opened and unopened letters. Did grandfather hide these? There must be some purpose that he kept them and did not burn them. Sylvie fingered a letter and bit her lip. Really, she should take these to her mother, but she was curious about them and wondered if perhaps her mother had hidden them from her. She snatched up the opened letter and scanned the contents. A love letter and descriptions of a fur trapper her father, Joseph, had met. Surely, there must be something scandalous here that caused this horde of love notes to be secreted away. Another letter talked about his returning soon with enough money that Sylvie’s mother and she could live with him in America. The third letter made Sylvie bite her lip. I have been bitten by a wolf. Not just any wolf, but a werewolf. My hand shakes as I write this and even the medicine man I sought out doesn’t know if my fever will ever break, and I too, will howl at the moon or die. I am not mad or drunk. If I were you, I would not believe me either. But the man become a beast. Then he attacked me when he found me watching. I think it was his intent to guard his secret. Write to me that you still love me. I understand if you never wish to see me again. But I swear on all that I know and is holy, a man-wolf bit me and I fear I might not recover—or be damned. Werewolf? Such a thing was a myth, a legend. Surely, her father was delusional with his fever. What are you doing with those? her grandfather hissed. Put those away, or better yet, burn them. You kept these? She waved a fistful of letters under his white mustache. From Mother, from me? He’s a commoner and a fur trapper. He straightened this blue waistcoat. And if you read his later letters, you’ll know the man has descended into madness. You told us he died! He might as well have. Her grandfather reached to snatch the letters, but she drew back. No. Mother has a right to see these. You’ll only break her heart…again. He dove for her, but she skirted around him. At her mother’s door, she tapped. When whimpering answered her, she pushed the door open. A single candle dimly lit the bedroom. Mother? She locked the door, then sat on the bed beside her and stroked her mother’s hair. Please tell me what’s wrong. Her mother wiped her tears with a trembling hand. "Oh, Sylvie, I’ve wronged you so. I’ve allowed you to grow up without a father. I should’ve listened to my father when he begged me to forget about Joseph and marry the Marquee. With your approaching wedding to Daniel, I wrote your father months ago, begging him to return to me. Naïveté, part of me refused to let him go. I imagine him striding through the door any moment. Her blue eyes seared into Sylvie’s. If he was alive, he’d come before now. He must be dead. She hiccupped. I found these just now in Grandfather’s private library, she whispered. They never should have listened to her grandfather. Over the years, she came to understand her grandfather more. He would lie if he thought it protected him or his family. Her father’s body was never found. What? her mother asked. Here. Why hadn’t she thought to check for proof before? Her grandfather bellowed, Open this door at once or I’ll rip it from the wall. His fist pounded on the wood. He’s a madman…a drunkard. The tales of him changing into a wolf are preposterous. What if what her grandfather said was true? Or what if her father did—she blocked out the thoughts. A whack sounded against the door making Jacqueline cringe. If she obeyed, she would have opened the door, but she did not as the old letters spilled out from the hollowed book. Joseph’s letters? Oui, Grandfather hid all of Father’s letters from you. And I suppose your letters never reached Father. Her mother opened a letter. Her hands shook as she held it. This one’s dated six months ago. She tore open the envelope and scanned the contents. He begs me to answer him if I love him, or he’ll allow the fierce winter to take him—or a hunter’s rifle in his wolf form. I don’t understand. Why does he think he’s an animal? She fingered through more of the letters. Her tears cut into Sylvie’s heart. You knew about these? Why did you not tell me? I just discovered them. She bowed her head. When the storm brought those corpses years ago, I thought Grandfather spoke the truth of Father’s death. Joseph loved us. He pleaded with me to leave with him, leave the estate, the money, everything. He wanted us to go with him, but I couldn’t for a life of nothing but his love. She clutched the recent letter against her chest, and sobs tore from her throat. And I’ve realized too late that his love, his embrace and kisses mean more to me than all the gold or impressive nods from even Napoleon. Tears streamed down her face. Leave me. Sylvie walked to the door, and closed it behind her. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as tears threatened. This injustice must be set right, and she knew she was the one to do it. Her grandfather blocked her path to the stairs, an iron key in his fist. You’ve ruined everything, he spat at her. No. She shook her head. You’ve ripped my father from me and nearly destroyed my mother. He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it at her stare. He looked as though he wanted to tongue-lash her, but he allowed her to pass. Out on the veranda she approached Daniel, her dress ruffling in the breeze. Daniel stood in the night air, his back rigid. She shook her head, for he never relaxed. He must have heard her coming, for he turned and she rushed forward into his embrace. She thought of her mother’s misery. Daniel? Oui? His breath blew against the top of her head. She bit her lip. I can’t marry you yet. She looked up at him. I must go to America first. Beneath her fingers, she felt his muscles tighten. I see. He breathed in and his mouth was taunt. Why? To find my father. He grasped her shoulders, holding her away from him to stare down at her. I won’t allow you— You’ll not dictate to me what I can or cannot do. Sylvie. He stroked her arms. We’ll marry now, then I’ll escort you. You’ll not go alone. War is in America, for God’s sake, and I’ll not have you risk your life. You promise we’ll leave after the wedding? She gazed up at him. I hoped to spend our honeymoon in Switzerland, not scurrying across the wilderness. He kissed her forehead. But we’ll go and find your father if it means that much to you. Later, Daniel bid her goodnight. She raced inside and bound up the stairs. When she was out of sight, Daniel slammed his fist on the railing. What did she tell you? her grandfather asked, joining him on the balcony. He held two glasses of wine and sipped from one. She knows about the letters. You should have burned them. He leaned back against the railing, his arms folded across his chest. She wants to leave and find her father. Of course, if you’re man had done his job, Joseph would be dead and the letters meaningless. He shrugged. Oblige her. He handed Daniel one of the glasses. Daniel accepted the wine. What do you have in mind? No one knows where her father is. He moved in with heathens shortly after he spouted this nonsense about him becoming a wolf. He waved his hand. I’ll pay a man who resembles Joseph. He’ll wait on the west of the mountains and pretend to be him. He took a sip of his wine, and his gaze darkened. He’ll hurt her. Tell her he wants nothing to do with her or her mother. Why not pay someone to pretend in Virginia? He shook his head. Too easy. She’ll read the letters. They show that he was west of the Rockies a few years ago. A handshake sealed their deception. After the wedding, Sylvie was relieved. Her headache from the weeks of arguing with her grandfather lessened. Even now as Daniel packed the carriage, her grandfather stood with his arms folded over his chest. She hugged her mother and kissed him on his cheek. Have I told you I forbid you to go? He mumbled. Oui, but we’ll return. And when I bring Father back, I’ll not have you frown at him so. She shook her finger at him. Do you understand? He let out an obnoxious huff. I still say you’re as mad as King George. While she tugged on her lace gloves, she winked at him. She and Daniel waved goodbye from the carriage. As Daniel hauled her back inside, she laughed. He kissed her breathless. Well, Madame Vergne, I suppose a ship’s cabin will have to do for our wedding night. Oui, Monsieur Vergne. Sylvie answered him. Any place, as long as I’m with you. But if you kiss me anymore like that, we’ll miss the boat entirely. Then perhaps I should try harder. His eyes twinkled mischievously. She screamed, then giggled as he dove for her. Moments later, the driver called to them that they’d arrived at the dock. Wait. I can’t find my other glove. Sylvie laughed. The captain won’t wait for you. Daniel ran his fingers through his graying hair. You’ve five trunks full of clothes. He noticed her pout and continued. I’ll buy you another pair when we arrive. Hurry, I want to finish what we started. She swatted his arm with her fan. Oh, you scoundrel. A deep blush spread over her face. August 24, 1814, Washington, D.C. Four o’clock approached as they strolled to the capital. Streets were crowded, busy with wagons, horse-drawn buggies, and dogs barking. Metal clanked against the forged steel and sparks flew from a blacksmith’s hammer. Cheyenne Dreams: Cheyenne Series, #4. Josephine Currie has had enough of civilian city life. She longs for adventure and to spend more than the summer months with her mother's Cheyenne tribe. Both her father, a retired calvary captain, and her half-Cheyenne mother, fight the injustice of the Native Americans through court and politics. Josephine longs for adventure and to live with her ancestors. When she hears about the massacre at Sand Creek, she sneaks out to find her Cheyenne relatives. Smoke has been an outcast since he was born. His father was an enemy Cheyenne warrior who raped his Crow mother. Then, when he reached puberty, he transformed into an animal and was shunned by his tribe when they discovered the truth. Now he lives in the wilderness hunting Cheyenne and military soldiers. When he spots Josephine, he thinks she's just a white woman he can ransom. But the truth will make him chose between vengeance and love. Can he forgive the past and move onto a future? Об авторе. Rea Renee is pen name of self-published author of historical romance. Always love, but sometimes history is darker than sugar-coated stories. Rea's stories are dark, adventurous, and captivating. Sign up for her newsletter and receive advance notice of sales, contests, new releases and more: http://eepurl.com/brhxVb. Связанные категории. Предварительный просмотр книги. Cheyenne Dreams - Rea Renee. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. This ebook license is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you would like to share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting copyright laws and the hard work of the author. Copyright © 2017 Rea Renee. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, or distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic additions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Cover art design: Safari Heat. To my husband, who loved me even when I burned dinner and let the kids run amok so I could finish one more chapter, I love you. My children, don’t give up on your dreams. Reach for them, always. To my readers, thank you for your wonderful support and encouragement. May the sun always shine on you, the rain water your garden, and the birds singing lift your spirits. Chapter One. SMOKE STOOD NEXT TO his mother as their Crow Chief Iron Nose glared at the two cougars lying motionless in front of the fire pit. The tepee flap opened up to the twinkling stars. The Crow leader shrugged and sat across from the flickering flames. This is not enough to repay your way back into our tribe. What? Smoke took a step toward Iron Nose, but his mom pulled him back. I’ve done as you’ve requested. These two slew several of our young children. You said I could return if I found the culprits responsible for— No! Iron Nose voice shouted inside the tepee. I will not allow a bastard Cheyenne to live among our people. An abomination. Inside his chest, Smoke’s wolf growled. A gift from his father who raped his mother over eighteen years ago. It was only his mother’s constant pleading with the Chief that Smoke had been allowed to remain in the village this long. Last moon, he’d been cast out. Told not to return until he found and exterminated the murderer of their young ones. But he’s done as you’ve asked. Smoke’s mother protested. With using his wolf. Not the Crow way of fighting with our own hands and weapons. I didn’t shift. Smoke squared his shoulders. Why did he think Iron Nose would ever want him back? Iron Nose bedded his mother, beat her, and made both their lives miserable to make them both pay for the past. We all know you used your wolf to do this. Iron Nose waved a hand out and many elders squatting around the inside edge of the tepee nodded and whispered among themselves. Then tell me what task I must fulfill to pay for my mother’s freedom from you. Smoke clenched his fists to keep from attacking the chief. Because of him, none of the Crow had ever accepted Smoke. Never friended him. His mother had been an outcast along with him, begging for their portion of food by pleasing Iron Nose in any way he wished. The leader’s face colored. You have until the Full Cold Moon to bring me one thousand Cheyenne scalps. Less than a year to complete that many? Impossible. But he would do anything to save his mother. Even if it meant killing dozens every day. Beside him, his mother wept and shook her head. Smoke, don’t. I— Chief Iron Nose, Smoke inclined his head slightly, I accept. Good! Their leader smirked. And if you return without the exact number of our enemy’s scalps, you will be executed. Smoke squeezed his mom’s hand and whispered, I will see you again. I promise. Then he stormed out of the tepee without waiting for her reply. He couldn’t watch her cry and see the pain he had caused her for being born from his father’s sin and changing into a wolf. Running away wouldn’t have helped her, the Chief would still demand payment for Smoke even being conceived. At least with Smoke gone, maybe his mother would have a reprieve. He hoped some of the other women would have pity on her and share their food. He shook his head. No, Chief Iron Nose would keep her tethered to him until Smoke could free her from him. Outside the tepee, Smoke cringed at his mother’s wails. He rubbed his shoulder, old wounds reopened from when he fought the mountain lions and kept marching forward. The wounds on his back reminding him of his numerous failures to keep Iron Nose from harming his mother. The last time had been a year ago when he and his mother ran away. In three days, the warriors had found them and dragged them back. Iron Nose beat them both but lashed Smoke so long and hard it was only Smoke’s mother throwing her body over his bloody and broken one had saved his life. Everyone followed the Chief’s orders. Which included picking and fighting with Smoke since he could walk. And he wasn’t allowed to possess any weapons. At least with most of the warriors inside with Iron Nose, there would be empty tepees. Smoke raided four before finding a bow, quiver of arrows, and two knives. He would bring back the scalps, then the chief would have to free his mother, and one day he’d kill Iron Nose. SMOKE’S HEART HAMMERED as he crouched at the edge of the river and washed the blood off his arms. The metallic scent clung to him permanently now. But he had another two scalps to add to his atonement. Only nine hundred and forty-seven to go. To help ease the guilt parading through his mind every time he took a life, he imagined that each Cheyenne warrior was his father. The one who had raped his mother and brought their shunning within the Crow. That and seeing Iron Nose’s shock when he dropped all the scalps at the man’s feet. As bile rushed into his throat, he pushed aside the thought of what the chief was doing to his mother. What depravity he had in store for her now that Smoke wasn’t there to try and stop it. A rustle sounded nearby. Smoke stilled, listening for a moment. Pushing aside the sound of the river gurgling before him, the birds singing their morning songs several feet away, and the wind dancing through the trees. He inhaled. The scent of fear hit him and his wolf snarled deep inside him. No one else in his tribe shape-shifted. Smoke scratched the childhood injury on his thigh. The welcome he received from his people when he had first shifted at a celebration dance when he was.