“Shappa, come back.” Hotah followed quickly behind his girlfriend as she took tiny steps across the ground, dragging her feet because her deerskin dress was too tight for larger movements. Shappa was discouraged. She had worn the same dress at last year’s Native Dakota Festival, it fit perfectly then.
She stopped on the stone bridge created many moons ago by their people. Turning to face Hotah, she tugged at her skirt for leeway, then lifted her shoe. “Look at this, Hotah! My moccasins are destroyed! Thanks!” She fumed.
Hotah, confused by Shappa’s anger, removed his war bonnet, a feather floated to the ground, landing next to Shappa’s foot. The couple had spent the morning performing traditional Dakota war dances for those attending this year’s jamboree. “I believe you’re taking this dance seriously.” He laughed, reaching for her hand.
She wiggled away from him, then loosened her costume so she could sit restfully on a surface rock.
“No.” Hotah encouraged her to stand.
He bent down pretending to retrieve the feather he lost. Balancing himself on one knee, he looked lovingly at the woman he had dreamt of marrying since he was a boy. “Marry me, Shappa.” He said, placing a diamond ring upon her finger.
Shappa began to cry, paint washed down her face, staining her beloved dress. “I will marry you! Yes!” She spoke through her emotions. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined my dress and shoes.”
Hotah laughed. “I don’t believe that will be all I ruin.” He placed his hand gently on her stomach. “I intend to spoil our little Wakanjeja.” He smiled.
“How’d you know?” She asked.
“The pale faced shaman charging twenty dollars for psychic readings told me.” He pulled Shappa close. “I’m joking. I know you better than I know myself. Tecinhinda, Shappa.”
Leesa Writes 