“Did the children get somewhere safe?” Jessica asked. “I don’t want them to be dead, too.”
Natu made a face behind the girl’s back. Jessica was such a crybaby.
“The other two elders took the children to safety before Mukua could harm them,” Kunu said. “Naatosi and Naatoyita knew the infants needed to be hidden well. When they returned from taking the children to another time, no one from either clan was left alive. No one, except Mukua. The sacred mountains were no longer sacred to him, and he wanted everything that the Sky People stood for destroyed. He took his own vessel to search for the children.”
“Did he find them?”
“Did they return?”
“How did they protect the sacred mountains?”
Everyone seemed to be asking questions at once. Kunu shook his head. He raised his hand for silence, then groaned as he rose to his feet.
“That is a tale for another time. We will talk about it again another day.”
Everyone scrambled to get up. Some made disappointed noises, while others begged Kunu to tell them what had happened to the mysterious children of the Sky People.
Natu used the opportunity to run inside the house. The others wouldn’t dare follow and enter Kunu’s dwelling unless invited.
It didn’t take long for the screen door to creak open and shut. Kunu entered the kitchen, just as Natu dipped a finger into a jar of peanut butter. The old man stared from across the kitchen.
“You were not paying attention.”
Natu nodded and swallowed. “I already know the story, Kunu. You’ve been telling it to me since before I could walk.”
“And it doesn’t make an impression on you? The other children enjoy the stories.”
“I’m not a baby anymore who believes in those fairy tales. You always tell me I’m not like the others.”
Kunu laughed, and poured a cup of milk, setting it in front of Natu.
“One day, little one, you will believe.”
Chapter 1
Yellowstone Wilderness, 1700s …
* * *
Icy water from the mountain lake sent a shiver through him as it ran from his arms and shoulders down his bare torso and thighs. He gritted his teeth against the cold. No matter. A proper cleansing was an important part of the preparation.
He stepped from the water onto the rocky shore of the lake, slowly and deliberately drawing air into his lungs. He raised his face skyward and closed his eyes, savoring the rays of the sun as they warmed his chilled body.
The fragrant scent of smoke from his campfire drifted through the air, mingling with the familiar smell of the earth and the forests far below. His senses seemed heightened here in the higher elevations, and a feeling of elation flowed through him. Being in the mountains seemed to bring a strength of mind and body, and a feeling of closeness to his ancestors. He touched the pouch around his neck, which contained his most sacred belongings – items that were part of his puha – his spirit medicine.
The long strands of his wet hair whipped around his face as he shook his head. The wind at this altitude bit into his flesh like the stabbing of a thousand small knives. Shivering, he lowered himself to the hard ground next to the small fire he’d built before taking his cleansing bath.
He reached for the clay pot with the red pigment made from berries and animal fat that he’d prepared earlier. He dipped two fingers into the pigment and painted it across his chest and forehead. Reaching into a small leather pouch beside him, he tossed a handful of spruce and pine needles onto the fire. He paused to inhale deeply of the fragrant smoke the needles produced. Next, he used an eagle feather to draw the smoke from the fire toward him to bathe his bare skin in the final part of the cleansing ritual.
Once thoroughly purified, he wrapped a sheep hide around his body and faced the mountains. Several rocks in this area had been carved with the likenesses of many spirits – the water ghost woman who held a bow in one hand, and the bear and wolf with the three snakes between them.
He lowered himself to the ground, staring at the various carvings. His eyes lingered on the wolf. Nothing happened. He sat up straighter. It could be a long wait, but it didn’t matter. The spirits would grant him a vision this time. They had to. It had been a long time.
His last quest for a vision more than a year ago had been unsuccessful, at a time when he had needed the guidance of the spirits the most. His heart had been filled with grief and anger as he’d mourned the loss of the woman who had owned his heart, yet his pleas for answers had fallen on deaf ears. After his unexpected first vision many seasons ago, he’d been full of confidence that the spirits favored him and would help him, yet they had not.
At the time, the shaman of his village hadn’t been able to give him a satisfactory explanation of his vision. He’d said that the Sky People had favored him, but the shaman had refused to tell him in what way. To this day, the disturbing images haunted him, and he hadn’t found an exact understanding to their meaning.
According to the shaman, his vision had been strong enough to earn him a new name, and with it, the belief that perhaps the Sky People had rewarded him with powerful puha, but they had been silent ever since. He’d almost given up hope, until an elder he’d encountered one summer ago had urged him to seek another vision. He hadn’t seen the old man since, and only now had made the long journey into the high mountains.
“Sky People, grant me a vision,” he pleaded with the stone carvings, then glanced up at the clouds. He wrapped the sheep hide more firmly around his shivering body. He might have to wait several long, cold nights and days without moving from this spot. Even then, the spirits might not answer.
He closed his eyes and waited. The night brought rain and cold, yet he didn’t move. When dawn finally broke, a wolf – his spirit animal – came up to him and sniffed his arm. The creature sat down beside him and looked to be staring at the carvings in the stone. Together, they sat through the long day, and a second cold night, when the carvings finally came to life, beckoning him to follow them. When he stood and touched his hand to the stone likeness of the wolf, he became the wolf. The three snakes began to move away from the other carvings and dispersed in all directions until they were no longer visible. The wolf that had been his companion for the last few days remained by his side as the scenery began to change . . .
He left the top of a tall mountain, and trotted through a valley covered in deep snow. With his large paws, he didn’t sink too deep. Cold wind howled around his head, but it didn’t penetrate his thick fur coat, preventing the bitter sting from reaching his skin. He raised his nose to sniff the air.
Women and children were laboring through the heavy snow. They were covered in furs, but the going was slow for them. The men brought up the rear, armed with bows. The people hurried along as fast as they could, continually glancing behind them, as if there was danger following them. Several women were in the lead, each one cradling something beneath their thick cloaks. The faint cries of several infants could be heard above the howling wind.
His eyes scanned the area surrounding them. The wolf that had sat so patiently by his side for almost two days was now leading the fleeing group. It quickly became apparent they were fleeing from two large bears that were in pursuit, cutting through the snow with ease. Their eyes blazed in anger, and their mouths were open with bared teeth.
The women cried for their husbands, who fought bravely against the bears, but they were no match for the large beasts. One by one, the bears destroyed the people, until only one woman remained. She begged for mercy, but the bears showed none. The older wolf that had tried to lead the people to safety raised his head to the sky and let out a long, mournful howl, then ran as the bears advanced on him.
Again, the scenery changed. Nothing was familiar in this strange and foreign place. The mountains were gone, and so were the valleys and the rivers.
The air was unfamiliar. Gone were the crisp smells of fresh air, the pine trees, the earth, and the abundance of
prey. Even the smell from the hot water and boiling mud was gone. Instead, the air smelled stale and foul, infused with odors that were foreign to him. The terrain was strange, and the scent of people was everywhere. A short distance in front of him, two creatures stood facing each other. One was a bear, and he seemed oddly familiar. The other was possibly a bear, but it wasn’t certain. For a moment, it had appeared as a she-wolf before it took the shape of a bear again.
The two bears seemed to be fighting with each other. The older bear wanted to show the younger she-bear – the one who couldn’t decide what shape to take – the way, but the younger bear resisted. She didn’t trust the older bear. Finally, they parted ways.
The wolf shook his head. He had to put some distance between himself and the two bears. Only then could he rest. Bears were his enemies, and even though these were not the same bears he’d witnessed destroying the clan of people in the snow, it was best to stay away from them.
He sniffed the air. The stench burned his nose, and he shook his head again in disgust and confusion. What had happened to make the air smell so foul? He glanced back to see his older companion coming up behind him. What were they doing here, in this strange place?
Together, they followed along a path unlike any he’d ever seen. It was a smooth path, made from dark stone of some kind, but different than anything he’d encountered before. His surroundings were foreign, too.
He walked ahead of his companion for quite some time. It was dark, yet something prevented the few stars he could see from shining brightly in the sky.
He had to find his way back to where he belonged. The older wolf was of no help. He seemed to be lost himself, following rather than leading. They walked on, following the strange stone path that looked almost like a river. He wanted to find the mountains and valleys that were familiar to him, but the path led through a foreign world. If only the scents were familiar, then he could follow them, but all the smells in the air confused him even more.
Eventually, he refused to go any further. The strange lights in the distance were beautiful. They weren’t stars, but grew out of the ground, and he was leery of them. He sat, letting his old companion know he wasn’t going to move from this spot. Lights, shining like the sun, yet unlike any lights he’d ever seen, came toward them at great speed, moving along the smooth stone path. It wasn’t safe here.
The older wolf turned and looked at him, then smiled. His shape turned into that of an old man. “You have done well, my young friend. You have revealed to me where to find Matunaaga and the other. Not all is lost.”
He opened his eyes and stared at the stone carvings in the rock. The spirit of the water ghost woman stood as before, staring at him with unseeing eyes. The bear and wolf remained etched in the rock, unmoving and with the three snakes between them. His gaze lingered on the wolf. He then glanced to his right. The wolf that had joined him on his vision journey was gone. His spirit animal had once again left him alone.
He stood and pulled the sheep hide from around his shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. The cold wind that blew off the mountain was welcomed to chase away the heat coursing through his body. His hair clung to the sides of his damp face. He blinked and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
The fire in the pit had died long ago. To the west, the clouds in the sky shone with many shades of reds, purples, and blues to signal the end of another day. Within a few minutes, the sun would disappear completely behind the distant mountains, chased into hiding by her brothers, the moon and stars.
He waited, watching the sun fade away and the sky lose its color. There was no moon out tonight, but stars shone brighter as the sky became darker. At least these stars were once again familiar to him, unlike the ones in his vision.
He drew in a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. The air was once again clear and without the foul odor he’d smelled before. The rich aroma of the mountains and forests infused the pristine mountain air, and his heart became lighter. This was as it should be. He shook his head. There would be time soon to reflect on his vision.
How many days and nights had he sat here, waiting for something to happen? His stomach told him it had been a long time, but he couldn’t eat. Not yet. First, he had to cleanse again in the lake, then bring his fire back to life.
By the time he’d dressed in his leggings, breechcloth, and leather hunting shirt, darkness had fully enveloped his small camp. Far off in the valley, a pack of wolves howled, answering each other’s calls. They must have been celebrating a successful hunt. An owl screeched somewhere close by. He shivered. Owls were bearers of bad news, harbingers that someone had died, or was about to die. Perhaps the owl was a remnant of what he’d seen in his vision.
His unease lifted when he reignited his fire and fed it with large pieces of wood to bring an orange glow to his surroundings. Sitting in front of the flames, he pulled some nut cakes from his traveling pouch and several strips of dried venison. The food nourished his hungry stomach while he stared into the flames, reflecting on what he’d seen in his vision.
As before, the images made no sense. He’d seen them once already, in his only other vision. People fleeing from danger through the snow. Only that time, it hadn’t been clear who or what had been pursuing them. There had been bears and wolves, and they had been bitter enemies, but he hadn’t noticed that the bears had been responsible for the death of the people, or that the wolf had tried to lead them to safety. Perhaps the shaman could give him some better answers this time.
The last part of his vision was even more puzzling. Where had he gone, and what did it mean? Visions were supposed to help a hunter gain knowledge and insights into his future, but it only confused him more.
The wolf that had accompanied him must have been his spirit helper, yet even that made no sense. Spirit helpers were supposed to guide him in his dreams or through a vision, yet he’d been the one who had guided the spirit wolf, who’d almost seemed to be lost and didn’t know where to go. Not until the very end, when he’d turned into an old man. What had he said?
The old man now knew where to find Matunaaga and the other. The other what? Matunaaga was a familiar name, although he hadn’t seen his childhood friend in over a year. He sat straighter as a sudden thought entered his mind.
Matunaaga was one of two men who had been gifted by the Sky People with powerful puha. Why would this old man need to find him? And why would he be looking for him in such a strange place as what he’d seen in his vision?
Logs splintered and crackled as the fire in front of him consumed the fuel. He added more wood, sending orange embers floating into the sky as the flames eagerly licked at the new fuel. He sat in silence for a long time, his vision replaying over and over in his mind as he tried to make sense of the images. Tomorrow, he would return to his clan and seek out the shaman.
Satisfied, he gathered his sheep hide and spread it on the ground. It had been several long and exhausting days. Tonight, he should be able to sleep in peace without any dreams.
Not a second after he’d settled on the ground, he jumped to his feet, grabbing for his horn bow. The unmistakable sound of moccasins scraping over loose gravel came from somewhere close. A twig snapped.
He strung his bow and stared into the darkness beyond the light from his fire. His enemies, the Bakianee, wouldn’t come this high into the mountains. A shadow emerged from where he’d sat earlier, facing the rock carvings. He squinted and raised his bow.
“Put your weapon away,” an old man croaked as he came closer.
There was something familiar about the elder. He’d seen him before. Slowly, he lowered his bow but kept it strung. The old man came closer, a wide smile on his weathered face.
“It is done, and I have you to thank. The moment I first met you, I knew there was something special about you. As I have told you once before, your puha is strong. I see you have followed my advice and sought another vision.”
“My vision is of no concern to you.”
The old man cackled with laughter. “But of course it is of concern to me. I see you have questions. I can provide the answers.” He moved closer to the fire and held his hands to the flames. Then he sat as if he’d been invited. He looked up and motioned with his hands to indicate the space next to him.
“It is time you learned the true story of the Sky People, Wo’itsa.”
Chapter 2
New York, 2005
* * *
“Nice moves. It’s been a while since anyone’s taken Lenny down like that.”
Kendra Weda didn’t look up to see who’d made the comment directed at her. Whoever it was stood right behind her.
She reached for her duffel bag on the ground and pulled out a small towel. Wiping her damp face, she draped the towel over her shoulders and around her neck. Someone else slapped her bare arm without stopping, chuckling as he walked by.
“Nice going, kid. Lenny won’t live that down for a while. That was even more impressive than when you took him down, Donovan.” Without waiting for an answer, the man hurried along.
Kendra gritted her teeth and counted to ten. She grabbed the handles of her bag, straightened, then turned to face the man who still stood behind her. A quick glance assessed him as middle-aged, probably around forty-five, give or take a few years, average height, lean and fit, with dirty-blond hair that could use a trim. Good-looking guy, but a little too old for her, and not her type.
You don’t have a type, Kendra.
She raised her chin. If she wanted to be part of the boys’ club, she had to act like them – arrogant and full of herself. She was used to it. People tended to underestimate her due to her size, but she’d always stood up for herself.
Yellowstone Legends Page 2
