My Name Is Cree

by T. K. Richardson

  We become what you need. If that’s a friend, then a friend. If that’s comfort, then we become comfort. If it’s family, we become family…

  That was Birch. And now the Tore Nation.

  I lay back on the rugs thinking of my parents, my home, of Birch, and all I missed.

  He glanced down, his expression revealing he was unsure about so much. About me, my responses, my questions, my lack of fear of him, of the Forest People. I moved to my side of the bear skin pile, clearing the place where he slept. If there was one thing I knew about Three Scars, he was safe.

  “What’s your real name?” I asked and yawned.

  “Get some rest, Little Foot.”

  Chapter 11

  I rolled over on the bear skins, yet I found myself in another place. Like I lived in two different worlds. The one world with Three Scars and the Tore people ruled the day while the sun burned bright and hot in the sky. The night world, where I slept belonged to my attacker. I returned to him every time I closed my eyes, and each time I closed my eyes it was nearly the same. Some variations occurred, but when I slept I awoke with a scream, heart pounding, sweat beading on my forehead, gasping for breath.

  This night was no different and I bolted awake.

  I moved my hands from my face and looked at Three Scars, a hint of worry resting deep in his eyes. His expression softened and he reached out his hand. I moved closer hoping he could take the fear away, remove the memory of my attacker from my thoughts, wishing he’d save me from the fear living within me. I fought back angry tears, angry I couldn’t get rid of this, angry that it tore through my entire being, forcing me into a place I never knew existed.

  “Little Foot?” he questioned and pulled me close. I lay my head against his chest, trying to slow my breathing to match his heartbeat, to calm my fears while he held me. I touched my hand to his chest, feeling his breath on my hair. He sighed and I knew I was safe again.

  “It was him again,” I said, and though I was strong, and brave, and independent, I could not control this. I had to figure out a way to free myself from this fear, from this tormentor who taunted me. He whispered, “He won’t hurt you. I’m here.” I wished I could be even closer, somehow believing he could force the fear to flee. His warmth comforted me, his arms held me pressed against his chest, I tried to look past myself to figure out a way to rise from this. Disappointed in my weakness, broken in his embrace, and so tired, but afraid to sleep again. “Don’t let go,” I whispered.

  “Three Scars,” a stern voice at the edge of the tipi called.

  He stilled his breathing, his arms loosened, and he got up. Covering me with the blanket, he went to the entrance. “The elders want to see you.” It sounded like Running Bear’s voice.

  “She is sleeping, I will not go right now.”

  “She is not sleeping. We heard her screams. We have heard her screams each night and now the elders want to see you. I’ll stay with her.” His voiced seemed pleased, eager.

  I pushed the blanket from me. “I’ll go with you,” I said. I wiped the tears away, and stood up, straightening my clothes, pulling on my boots. He opened the tipi flap and Running Bear appraised me and avoided Three Scars’ questioning glare. Three Scars reached for my hand, and we walked through the camp. I wondered what was wrong and worried the nightmares had entered a new phase – distancing me from everyone else.

  I had to make them stop.

  We went inside a smaller tipi, in the center of a cluster of shelters. The three elders sat on the floor, waiting for us. Silence filled the space as we entered. Three Scars went in first, I followed, and Running Bear trailed us. Behind him another warrior followed, though I didn’t know who he was, nor did he have distinct features for me to silently name him. He closed the tipi and the elders motioned for us to sit down, but before I could find a spot the white haired elder said, “Little Foot, come here to me.” He waved me forward and I angled through everyone and found myself closer to the elders than I had ever been.

  I sat down and waited.

  “Three Scars, has she been told of everything?”

  “She knows about our people,” he answered.

  They turned toward me, perhaps appraising my thoughts or reactions to the revelation of their abilities. “Little Foot, what troubles you? We have heard of your distress.”

  I looked at Three Scars who avoided my stare.

  “Has anyone harmed you, or are you troubled about the news of our people and the legends?” he asked, his voice a melodic sing-song.

  “Oh no, nothing like that.” I said and put my head down. Did they think Three Scars hurt me or that he didn’t have self-control like they thought he would? “I just keep having this same nightmare. It won’t go away,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Silence filled the air.

  “What is your dream?” the elder asked.

  I looked at Three Scars and he nodded for me to explain, so I did. I poured out the entire nightmare. The elders looked at each other and back to me. “And this is why you are distressed? Nothing else?” he questioned further.

  “It’s a pretty terrifying dream, and it’s like the attack never ends. I have to make it stop. I can’t keep this in me. I just don’t know how to get rid of it or become stronger than it.”

  The elders shot a sharp glance at Running Bear. The one in the center turned toward me and reached for my hand. “Child, you are brave and resilient. Accepting much change. You are like a tree – able to bend with the wind. But this attack changed that. A branch was broken. Not the trunk, but a branch,” he said, his ancient eyes, kind, comforting. “To free yourself from this dream, child, you must do the bravest act of all.”

  I looked into his eyes.

  “Though you have the right and the will to want revenge for the broken branch, to free yourself you must do this one thing.” He touched my head and then held my hand tight. “You must be brave enough to forgive him.”

  I tilted my head. Instead of dwelling on the fact that I was vulnerable and weak for a moment in time at the hands of someone else, I could regain myself and free myself by freeing him through forgiveness?

  “Forgiveness does not mean that what he did was right, it means that you are braver than his attack, stronger than his anger, that your heart is bigger with love than the violence you were shown.”

  I tried to soak this in, understand it fully.

  “It means you breathe in forgiveness and breathe out relief for yourself and for him.”

  Something flickered inside me because I knew he spoke the truth. I wanted that truth. I wanted that forgiveness, and I wanted to give that forgiveness away. I wasn’t sure how to get there, but I saw a new path before me, and one I wanted to travel down.

  “Little Foot?” he asked, and I looked to him, my thoughts still swirling around this new concept. “Do you wish to stay under Three Scar’s care, or would you prefer to be moved to someone else?”

  I looked over at Three Scars, and again he avoided my stare. “I’d like to stay, if he still wants me, that is…”

  “Son, is her care something you continue to uphold?”

  He looked at his father and nodded once.

  “Then let it be,” he affirmed and waved a hand to Running Bear, seemingly dismissing him or perhaps a request by him.

  “Now we must discuss the turn of events that occurred through the night while you were gone,” the second elder said.

  I looked to Three Scars and he nodded for me to move nearer to him. I stood, slipped through those seated between us, and sat by Three Scars, our sides almost touching, the heat from him radiating to me. I felt warmer, better, even happier with this new information. Three Scars reached over, folding his hand over mine, resting our twined hands on his leg. I looked up at him, his profile striking, his dark eyes and black hair, accentuating his features. I looked back to the elders, all three watching me and Three Scars, glancing one to another. Maybe they wondered what might become of their warrior. I wondered that
, too. Concerned that he said he’d suffer for me three times.

  “Last night we heard them calling,” the second elder said. “Far off, a few mountain ridges over. We have not heard them in a long time.”

  “Can I say something?” I whispered to Three Scars.

  He shook his head.

  “The letter we received from Birch warned us of the scientific research the government planned to conduct in his area,” he glanced to me and dipped his head, “he asked us to warn our warriors to stay away, to protect our people from those people.” He cleared his throat. “Birch was concerned because he also knows how you are, Little Foot. He was concerned you would fight to the end, and you would not win against them. He sent you here for your safety and for the safety of our people. We have great respect for him.”

  I felt something tight in my throat when I heard his name, like hot tears that tried to sting my cheeks, but I cleared my throat and focused. The third elder started speaking where the second elder left off. He looked directly at me. “We understand you know the Forest People’s patterns well?”

  I nodded.

  “When do they come to your area? Where are they now, do you know?” he asked.

  “Before the wildfire a few years ago, they stayed all year drinking from the creeks, bedding down in several areas near me, raising children, and staying to themselves. I heard their whoops, their calls from one ridge to another, and causing no harm or fear. But after the fire they were gone. For almost three years they’ve been away, and nowhere in our forest. I don’t know where they were. I thought maybe they went north, but I don’t know. Recently, well a few months ago, I heard their calls,” my eyes lit up, “and then I heard the tree knocks, but still I’ve seen no tracks. They’re close but not there, yet.”

  The elders looked from one to the other.

  “Have they ever seen you and have you seen them?” the first elder asked.

  “They have seen me. They have growled when I get too close to where they are, but it’s not like I was trying to. I don’t see them when they’re hiding so I go my way. It’s only when I hear their deep growls, I know I’ve gone too far, got too close. I turn and leave. So yes, they’ve seen me. And I’ve seen a little one once, too. He held real still, and then I heard three knocks and I saw him run away from me, like he was so scared.”

  “No harm came to you at any time?” he questioned further.

  “No,” I said. “Can I say something more?” I asked, not knowing the rules and not wanting to be disrespectful.

  “Speak, Little Foot, you are one of us now,” he said and glanced at Three Scars’ hand over mine.

  “I think it would be a good idea if we talked to them and warned them not to go back to that part of the forest, to stay away until the scientists and biologists leave,” I offered.

  “We have agreed, that is our best course of action. Although Bigfoot, or Forest People, are not our allies, we do have reason to shield them from harm, because it also shields our people.”

  I felt relieved, but Three Scars tensed, his hand tightened over mine. I thought he might want me to stop talking, but I had another thought.

  “If we go to their land and intercept their migration now, we’d have a good chance of finding them before they go too far. And, I know this may seem dangerous,” I glanced at Three Scars, and he narrowed his eyes, wishing me to stop. I couldn’t stop, though, this was about me, my home, my new people, about Three Scars and about the Forest People. “I could go with some of the warriors, and talk to them. I know the places they go, how to explain it without maps and… well, I’m not afraid of them. They won’t hurt me. Or they already would have.”

  “No, she stays here. Warriors can go instead,” Three Scars interrupted. “I am bound to her. She stays,” he said, a thin edge to his voice, balancing between respect and defiance, between obedience and a challenge.

  “Hmm,” the first elder sighed, his eyes softening into slits, “we have much to discuss. Much to think about. We will talk with you once we know what is best. Not only what is best for one of us, but what is best for all of us,” he said, and lifted his thin arm, waving it over us, closing the meeting.

  Running Bear and the other warrior stood, but Three Scars did not stand up. He stared right at the first elder, his father, his eyes locked on him, jaw set, a sort of pleading in his eyes.

  The first elder said, “Go, son, we will consider everything.”

  Three Scars stood up, tugged me closer to his side and we left the tent.

  Chapter 12

  A thick, heavy, mist wrapped around us, cool and familiar. A thin outline of cedars and oak, of manzanita and pine scattered through the grey haze as we walked through the woods on our way to meet with the Tore warriors. My fox fur cape acted as a barrier between me and the mist, Three Scars’ hand over mine, a barrier between me and my being present at the meeting with the Forest People. I would not argue with him about it. The deep undercurrent of emotion in his eyes won me over, but I couldn’t help thinking it might be better if I went. The Forest People would know exactly where to avoid.

  Off in the distance a clear cry broke the air. Almost a minute long, the strange, deep, howl-like voice pierced the silence of the mist and revealed the Forest People were near, passing through the land, heading to my home forest. Three Scars stopped mid-stride turning to me.

  “When will you go?” I asked, an urgency in my voice.

  “Tonight,” he said. I suddenly pictured me without him, alone in the tipi. I hadn’t left his side since I arrived on Tore land. At home I was accustomed to silence and a solitary life, but it was different now. A strange feeling emerged, floated through my thoughts, almost like emptiness, but more hollow, cold. Void of something vital needed to survive. I slipped the leather thread from around my neck and reached up placing it over his head. The bear tooth dangling at the end of it hung right above his heart.

  “Come back safe,” I said. He glanced at the bear tooth, and back to me.

  We reached the open field where we burned the debris piles, and about twenty warriors stood in groups of five or six. They spotted Three Scars and turned as we approached. I would hear their plans and in turn tell them of the signposts and nature marks to give the Forest People. I hoped we weren’t too late to intercept them, so much hinged on finding them before the biologists did.

  “We’re going tonight?” one of them asked, eager for an answer.

  “We go tonight. Over these ridges, through the wild land, and we’ll look for their tracks. If we find them and make contact. Red Hawk, you speak to them, try to explain the best you can. But if there’s any issues,” he looked at me and back to them, “we will do what we’re trained for,” Three Scars said.

  “When do we leave?” Running Bear asked.

  “In two hours. Meet back here ready to go. Now Little Foot will tell you what to explain to them.”

  I kneeled down and reached for a stick and drew a map in the dirt. “Here is the area – beyond the river, by the cabins that stand empty most of the year. From these cabins,” I drew a line, “down to here, where you find this,” I said and pulled out my rose quartz rock I carried with me. “Give them this and tell them where the girl with the fur cape lives. Where the yellow flowers grow. They’ll know me. They’ll know where that is.”

  Red Hawk studied the map, memorized what I said, and nodded. “The empty cabins, the rose quartz, the girl with the fur shawl, and the yellow flowers,” he repeated.

  “Yes, remind them of the flowers,” I said. “It’s important.”

  “Are you the only one with flowers?” Red Hawk asked.

  “No, they’re all over the area. You can’t miss them. They’re daffodils. If they stay away from the daffodils, and a wide area beyond them, they’ll be okay. Also tell them not to go near the place with the quartz of many colors, to stay far away. The biologists won’t go deeper in the forest, or much higher looking for them. Once they don’t find any sign of the Forest People they’ll leave.
Oh, and tell them about the cameras, about the red dots of light, to pull them down and break them if they see any,” I added. “You’ll remember all of this, right?” I asked, looking at Red Hawk.

  He touched my shoulder. “I’ll remember, Little Foot.” He paused. “I heard you wanted to go with us,” he finished, a hint of approval in his voice. I glanced at Three Scars, and the other warriors were silent.

  “You are brave,” one said, and tapped my shoulder as he walked away.

  “Very brave,” another said and nodded, as he followed.

  The group of men filtered away, and Three Scars and I began our return to camp through the mist. Two hours would pass quickly, and he’d be gone. “What will you take with you?” I asked and stepped over a scattering of pinecones. He touched the bear tooth necklace. “Only this,” he said. I looked to the ground, and wondered how it would go, wondered if they’d find the Forest People, and if they did find them would there be a fight or vital communication with each other?

  In the trees, the mist thickened and swallowed any ounce of visibility there was before. “You’ll stay with Red Hawk’s family until we get back,” he said.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone. I need some sleep, and I’ll be safe in the tipi, plus I’ll have my bow right next to me,” I said.

  He stopped and turned to me. “I’ll be back before long.”