He stared at the little face.
Then whispered, "Hello, sweetheart."
The child opened one hand.
Her tiny fingers closed around his thumb.
Elias's expression changed.
For a moment, Ren thought he might cry.
Then he did.
Quietly.
Without embarrassment.
He sat beside her.
"I wish my father could see her."
Ren touched his shoulder.
"I know."
He looked down at the child.
Then smiled through tears.
"I reckon he'd have liked her."
Ren laughed softly.
"She's been here less than a day."
"Already got more sense than me."
She leaned toward him.
"That wouldn't be difficult."
Elias laughed.
Then kissed her.
They named the child after Elias's mother, with a second name chosen to honor Ren's grandmother.
The decision belonged to both of them.
And when Iron Elk visited, he held his granddaughter with such visible tenderness that Elias could hardly reconcile the gentle grandfather with the stern chief who had once threatened to send him away from the valley.
People changed.
Not always.
Not easily.
But sometimes.
Iron Elk's relationship with Ren also changed.
The chief never again described his daughter as cursed or ugly.
But Ren did not pretend that the years beneath the veil had caused no harm.
One afternoon, while visiting the family camp, she found her father sitting beside a small fire.
He looked older.
The years of conflict over the river had worn him down.
Ren sat opposite him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Iron Elk asked, "Are you happy?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He smiled faintly.
"Good."
Ren studied him.
Then asked, "Why did you never tell me the truth?"
He lowered his gaze.
"About the veil?"
She nodded.
The chief sat silently for a long time.
Finally, he answered.
"Because I was afraid."
Ren looked at him.
He continued.
"When Crane began asking about you, I believed hiding your face would make him lose interest."
He swallowed.
"Then the rumors spread."
"And you let them."
He nodded.
"Yes."
Ren's voice trembled.
"You told people I was ugly."
Iron Elk closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Do you know what that did to me?"
He looked up.
Tears gathered in his eyes.
"I did not understand then."
Ren shook her head.
"For five years, I believed something was wrong with me."
Her voice broke.
"I was frightened to look at people. Frightened to let anyone close. Frightened that if somebody saw my eyes, they would understand why you were ashamed of me."
Iron Elk leaned forward.
"I was never ashamed of you."
Ren's expression hardened.
"Then you should not have taught me to feel ashamed of myself."
The chief lowered his head.
For a long moment, silence settled between them.
Then he whispered, "You're right."
Ren began crying.
Iron Elk looked toward her.
"I thought I was protecting my daughter."
His own voice broke.
"But I was making her carry my fear."
He swallowed.
"I am sorry."
Ren wiped her eyes.
She did not immediately embrace him.