The youthful man seemed as wary of prying eyes as she was, though most likely for different reasons. Wouldn't want his intended or sweetheart getting the wrong idea of dallying with a 'squaw', the white man's more offensive twisting term for a native woman that actually was suppose to mean wife in some languages. But they were never terrible bothered by their inaccuracy, now where they?

Case in point, even this man seemed to both be dazed by her and yet intent on lording over her. Strength in young men was respected by women of her tribe, but only when they deserved respect and gave it in kind. Women were suppose to do as men said, to save the Warriors pride among their comrades, but only in meaningful situations. A woman always had power of her own, a voice that should be heeded since they were the closest to Mother Earth and givers of life as well as nurturers. 

Life was always to be in balance. But white men had no balance. Many thought them more superior than the women they laid with, making them slaves to pleasure above their sa-loons or beating them to submission with words or fists in other aspects of life. They could not even respect their horses enough to keep them well fed, groomed and seen to. How many had she seen with burrs or shorn tails from the laziness of their owners?

Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. Her high cheek bones and the slight aristocratic arch of her straight nose added to her flashing dark eyes filled with pride and wariness of him. Long silken dark hair down her back and over her shoulder, Wasula watched the young man. His youthful and handsome features seemed both surprised and shamed by her cutting sharp-tongued words. But it seemed he had more of a boyish tendency to being embarrassed, than his older men's kind of tendency to get angry to hide any unsavory feelings. 

Her expression softened slightly, though her chin was still tipped up in that proud way, dark eyes flashing as they watched him. He stumbled over his words, changing colors in a way that kept her eyes on him in a different light. Curiously, Wasula watched as his pale face changed to pink and then to red. Her people blushed of course, but there was suck a stark difference since he was so pale... He looked like a budding flower or a white wild strawberry gaining its color. Rather...fascinating to watch actually...

He also tried to correct himself, to keep from his habit of calling her 'Dakota', which gained another grain in good regard. He obviously also did not know of women in such fashions, which she found oddly endearing. Many of the white men claimed their women should be unknowing in the ways of the marriage bed before committing themselves, though Wasula found this foolish. Inexpeierenced couplings were often uncomfortable and awkward, not pleasant for celebrating the fresh flower of marriage if you asked her.

Men of her tribe were often taught by widows or non-related aunts or even just elder unmarried ones in the ways of women. Women more discreetly chose 'playmates' to learn with, usually taking lessons with young warriors or unmarried men out in the plains. So as long as the young woman did not spend too long in dallying or sleep till morning with the man, her experiences were respected as the growing of girl to woman, readying herself for whichever man she chose to marry. Though...sometimes fathers were pursuaded to give their daughters to warriors for many horses... Of course, if the daughter found her new husband wanting, she could always chose another man, though it would shame her unwanted husband unless an agreement was made with him...

Needless to say, it was far more free than the white man's ways, but still had structure and respect in it regardless. Wasula herself was not so unexpierenced, but still did blush at forwards advances of men. Blinking slowly, question as to what white men did when courting crossed her eyes as she looked at the stammering young stag in front of her.

His mention of stolen horse caught her attention. She rose a brow and frowned a bit. Half the horses in his town? Must be many horses... Too many for a wild stallion to tempt away. So he must have assumed it was humans. And many tribes were known for raiding for horses to grow the prowess of young warriors... He suggested she help him, if she wanted to get back to her brother. Her frown deepened. Did he then suggest her brother was in the holding cells of the place his people called ja-il? Often drunks who were unruly went there. And her brother had been in one once before. Her brother being native, she had to beg the help of tradesman to help vouch for his release. White men often enjoyed tormenting 'red devils' and were not often just in their sentencings...

"Young man wishes to gain honor among his people in regaining many horses," she nodded with some understanding, "Such things are common among The People." She spoke of the many so-called 'Indians' as one. The People. While they fought one another sometimes, respect was due even to enemies... At least when compared to white men. "Another young warrior or maybe more in raiding party stole away horses to bring home," she guesses with one of his people's gestures called a shrug, "Raiding many horses is great skill and impresses many. Raiding back is difficult... Tracking raiding parties is impossible for White Man alone."

Wasula seemed to realize them why he was talking to her. She was small, vulnerable, but knew English and was native. Her brother could refuse this young man with ease. She, however, would have more difficulty. Perhaps he was not so boyish as she first thought. His strategy was sound, even if she did not like in the least being his target. Never the less, he gained a bit more favor from her for his use of wit instead of brawn. Many a man might have simple overpowered her and forced her to do as they wished. This young man bargained. Wasula begrudgingly had to respect that.

"Young man wants to be warrior, track raiding party and take back horses to gain honor before his people," she looked him up and down, tilting her head a bit as she thought, "Knowing he could not do so alone, he comes to Wasula..." Speaking her thoughts out loud seemed to be an offer into how she viewed him and the situation, an honor given to him in return for being more of wit than brawn. 

"Smart," she nodded once, her only compliment, "I will help, but only to gain back my brother. When you gain back horses, you are on your own." Her dark eyes twinkled with a soft knowing. "Raiding party may not be happy with you... But gain of respect from both village and town will be won. Makes men of boys, respect from many."

"I will help," she nodded once again, dark eyes appraising him once more, wondering if he was up to such a task as raiding horses. That was if they were taken by natives in the first place... Though such situations were common enough among The People that it seemed more likely an over zealous raiding party of young men than anything else.