Chief Grey Talon called the whole camp together at sundown. Fires burned high. Drums carried through the whole valley. Wade stood near the center of the circle, feeling every bit the stranger he still technically was, despite everything. Grey Talon rose, spoke first in Apache, his voice carrying strong and clear across the whole gathering, then switched to English, looking straight at Wade as he did.
I have told my people of your bravery, of your generosity, how you saved my daughter expecting nothing, and how you gave us water, knowing it was the only treasure you owned." He paused, letting the firelight and the silence do their own work. My people have decided, "You are no longer a stranger among us. From this night, you are Waterheart. It means in our tongue, a man whose spirit runs as generous and as endless as flowing water."
The warriors struck their spears against the earth in one great rolling wave of sound. Women's voices rose high and clear in celebration. Wade stood in the middle of it all, throat too tight to speak, feeling something settle into his chest that felt for the first time in five years uncomfortably close to belonging, even Broken Blade. Wade noticed, standing near the back of the circle, struck the ground along with the rest. However slowly, however late, it wasn't forgiveness.
Wade understood that much, but it was something moving in that direction. And after everything, he'd take it. Autumn Sky rose from where she'd been, sitting, still leaning on her crutch, and crossed the circle to stand in front of him. "Water," she said, testing the name out loud, like she was trying the shape of it in her own mouth. "Suits you better than Wade ever did."
Wade's still in there somewhere. I know. Her eyes held his steady, unflinching, the firelight catching gold in them. I like both of him just fine. The drums kept going behind them.
The whole camp swept up in its own celebration. And for one strange suspended moment, it felt to Wade, like the two of them were standing somewhere entirely separate from all of it. Just the fire, just her face turned up toward his autumn sky. He started not entirely sure what was going to come out next. Don't, she said quiet, not unkind.
Not yet. Not with my father 20 feet away and half the camp watching us out of the corners of their eyes. Cut. Didn't say anything yet. You were about to.
I could see it coming a mile off. Same as that dust cloud you're always squinting at. Fair. Wade let out a breath. Something between a laugh and a surrender.