It was not that Swift Deer treated Timpoochee badly. Cornstalk simply required more attention.
She had seen the boys differently, though, since the shaking earth.
“Timpoochee,” Swift Deer called out quietly. “How would you like to spend the rest of the day fishing instead of tending to Grandmother Ama? She is getting better and you’ve been working hard and have been very attentive. You deserve some time for play.”
“I would like that very much,” Timpoochee said.
He finished dressing Grandmother’s arms and scampered out the door and across the town common to the sand river bank. He was suddenly full of energy and self-confidence from the lessons he learned of the medicine.
“I truly am proud of you, my younger son,” Swift Deer said softly to herself. “Although I wish you had not come into life as you did. It’s because of your birth that I cannot be sure your life will be meaningful.”