Yellowstone Legends

by Peggy L Henderson

  “Who are you?” Kendra’s eyes narrowed. Her heart slammed against her ribs at the familiarity with which he spoke her native name.

  “You favor your mother,” the old man said in response. His eyes went to her hand holding the wooden box.

  “You’d better start answering my questions.” Staring down a criminal holding a gun to her head seemed less intimidating than confronting this frail-looking old man.

  “You are lost, and you are conflicted,” the old man went on in the same manner as before, clearly not intending to answer her. “The man who raised you tried to lead you away from your true family, but your ancestors knew to guide you on your true path.”

  “Cut the gibberish, old man. Who are you?” Her unease grew stronger with each second that passed, but then, this old man was hardly someone she couldn’t handle if it came to having to defend herself. He reached out and pointed at her hand holding the box.

  “Give me the vessel.”

  Vessel?

  Kendra’s eyes darted to her pocket, which tightened around the box. She glanced back at the old man, whose eyes looked eager to take the thing from her. She shook her head.

  “Not a chance. If you know what this box is, or what’s in it, you’d better just tell me.” Dozens of questions raced through her mind. For as crazy as the old man seemed to be, he knew things about her, and he clearly knew about this box that Matt had wanted her to have. Whatever it contained was too important to let slip into the wrong hands.

  The old man’s laughter cracked through the evening air. “Give it to me, and I will show you.” He took a step closer. Kendra tensed. “You do not need to be burdened with this any longer, Natukendra’eh. You have broken away from the spirits and your ancestors, and you can now lead the life you desire.”

  “I’ll think about it and let you know,” she said slowly, and moved to walk around the old man. “If you don’t want me to call the cops on you, I suggest you let me pass.”

  “You do not know what you are doing, Natukendra’eh. Give me the vessel.”

  Another car rolled down the street, blaring loud music. One of the teenage passengers yelled through the rolled-down window while others whistled and hooted. “Hey, Kendra. Wanna go for a ride?”

  Kendra squinted at the car’s headlights. When her eyes darted back to the old man, he was gone.

  “What the hell?” she murmured. She turned to look around her, but there was no sign of the man. “Am I going crazy?”

  Her knees went weak and she raked her fingers through her hair. She still clutched the box in her hand. She broke into a run to reach her building, breathing hard when she finally slammed the door behind her inside her apartment. Her hands trembled as she pried open the box with some difficulty. Time for some answers before she completely lost her mind.

  She stared. Her hand trembled as she reached out and touched her finger to the gnarled and petrified-looking carving of a . . . snake’s head?

  “The vessel that transported the children to the future was carved in the form of a snakehead.”

  Kunu’s words echoed in the quiet of the room as if his spirit was talking to her.

  Kendra laughed, just as she’d done as a little girl when she’d listened to his stories.

  “A snakehead? That’s silly, Kunu. Why a snakehead?”

  “Snakes represent knowledge and wisdom, Natu. By saving the children, the leaders of the Sky People hoped to preserve the knowledge and wisdom of their ancestors.”

  Carefully, Kendra lifted the object from the box, which she set on her little kitchen table. The snakehead was a tight fit, and it appeared the thing had been wedged in there for quite some time. Why had something like this been in Matt Donovan’s possession?

  There was no longer any doubt that his and Kunu’s deaths were connected. She stared at the object in her hand. What about this thing? Were Kunu’s stories true? And what did it have to do with her?

  She held the snakehead up, turning it in her hand to study it from different angles. Red stones were embedded in the sides to give the appearance of eyes. The longer she stared, the more the thing seemed to come alive. Flashes of her dreams played in her mind. People fleeing through the snow. Women screaming. Babies crying. A shadow darted across the room, and the visions faded. Someone was in her apartment!

  Before she had time to react, the intruder grabbed her from behind and tried to shove her to the ground.

  Kendra still clutched the snakehead in one hand, and her grip on it tightened. With a swift jab of her elbow, she punched her assailant in the throat. He instantly released her and stumbled back. Kendra swung around and kicked her foot into the back of his knees, sending him to the ground.

  She lunged forward and brought her foot down on his neck.

  Kendra stared down at the guy. Some kid off the streets, his eyes filled with fear. She eased up slightly. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Some weird-looking guy dressed like an Indian told me to steal a little wooden box,” the kid panted.

  The old man she’d encountered earlier. He hadn’t been a figment of her imagination after all. Kendra stared at the snakehead she still held in her hand. She must have relaxed her body too much. The kid suddenly lurched forward. He sprang to his feet, grabbed the wooden box off the table where she’d set it, and darted across the room.

  Kendra stumbled, then sprang forward to tackle the kid before he got away. The snakehead nearly slipped from her hand. She groped for it, tightening her grip around it. In the next instant, everything went dark.

  Chapter 7

  Wo'itsa glanced at the old man sitting across from him. Flames from the campfire flickered between them. The wood he’d added a moment ago crackled and popped, invading the quiet of the late morning. Birds that sang in the early hours of dawn had quieted, giving way to the softer voices of various other forest dwellers that were active during this time. The sun hadn’t yet reached the highest point in the sky, and the lack of clouds promised warmth for the rest of the day.

  There was no longer any doubt that the old man was an elder of the Sky People. Not even the shaman would have such a clear understanding of Wo'itsa’s vision. Not only had the elder given him insights into the images he’d seen the other day, but also about the first vision he’d received many seasons ago.

  Although the shaman of his clan had told him that his original vision had revealed that he possessed strong puha, which had earned him his name, he had only explained that the vision had been about the war between the Sky People clans many years ago. The shaman had not been able to give him more detail or tell Wo'itsa why he’d received a vision about that time.

  In fact, the shaman had seemed uneasy about why Wo'itsa’s vision had been of the time when the Sky People roamed the land. He had simply proclaimed that the Sky People had favored him in some way. Since that first vision, however, the Sky People had been silent. Until now. According to Mukua, his brothers had ignored Wo'itsa in favor of Cameahwait and Matunaaga.

  “I believe you possess stronger spirit medicine than they do, Wo'itsa. You were granted a vision, but my brothers did not show you everything. Your new vision revealed the truth. It is the reason you and I have crossed paths. Naatoyita and Naatosi are afraid you will see the truth they have tried to hide from the Tukudeka. They have done everything in their power to keep you hidden from me, as well.”

  The elder locked eyes with him. There was something written in those depths that was difficult to decipher. Mukua appeared unsure about something, as if not everything he’d said was clear to him. Wo'itsa added some more wood to the flames.

  “But what of the images of the strange place with the two bears? One of them kept changing its shape into that of a wolf.” While the images of people fleeing from bears made more sense now, the part where he’d been a wolf in a strange and foreign world couldn’t be as easily explained. The vision of the she-wolf who had shifted into a bear and back into a wolf while arguing with a large bear had given him no pe
ace.

  When he glanced up at the old man again, Mukua was still looking at him, studying him intently. He hesitated before answering. “Your vision revealed that you are conflicted, and it is no wonder. No one has guided you before. You have seen into the future, and it reveals that you are the one meant to help me. Once we have accomplished what we need to do and stop the destruction my brothers have created, the clan of the Wolf will once again see over this land, and all will be well.”

  “What do I tell my shaman when I return to my people?” Wo'itsa reached his hand out to offer the old man the last of his dried meat.

  Mukua stared at him with a fierce determination in his eyes as he took the food. “You tell him nothing. If your shaman speaks to my brothers, he will tell them about your new vision, and they will try to stop you from knowing the truth.”

  Wo'itsa lowered his gaze. He’d hoped for a vision when he’d left his village and made the journey into the mountains, but never had he expected that one of the Sky People would speak to him directly and guide him.

  Mukua’s stories about the old clans were unlike anything the shaman had taught the people. There was no reason for anyone to question his tales. The only person who’d scoffed at the stories had been his friend, Cameahwait. He had never trusted the Sky People. His friend had resented their meddling in his life.

  Cameahwait had said that the Sky People elders talked in riddles and never provided him with any answers about why he’d been brought to live among the Tukudeka. Mukua seemed different than the elders Cameahwait knew. He spoke with clarity and conviction, and he explained how the clans hadn’t come to an agreement about how best to protect the mountains for future generations.

  “These mountains are the home of the Tukudeka. They’ve been the home of the Sky People for generations. We must protect them from those who would come and destroy our lands.” Mukua’s eyes shimmered with intensity as he stared into the flames. “My brothers are determined to continue with the vision of the leaders of the Bear Clan, the same vision that caused the destruction of both clans. If we allow this to happen, the Tukudeka will be driven from their homelands by men who will soon descend upon this land.”

  Wo'itsa shifted on his haunches. “How can you prevent this from happening?”

  Mukua cackled hoarsely. “You will be of great help to me, Wo'itsa. We must take the vessel I have shown you and make right what my brothers have done. I cannot do anything to interfere directly.” His stare intensified as he leaned forward, making it appear as if his face was on fire. “But you can.”

  Wo'itsa set down the piece of dried meat he held in his hand. A twinge of unease coursed through him. Had he heard correctly?

  “I am merely a hunter, Mukua. I have little knowledge of the ways of the Sky People. How can I be of any help to you?”

  Mukua stood, groaning as he got to his feet. “Before you received your vision, Woit’sa, you were a hunter. Now, I will teach you to be more than that. One day, you will be a legend among your people for saving the sacred mountains.”

  The elder’s face cracked in a smile. He walked around the fire and stopped in front of Wo'itsa, glancing down at him.

  “I must leave. When I return, the path will be clear, and together we will bring order back to our homeland.” With those words, the old man walked away from camp and into the trees.

  Wo'itsa stared after him. Conflicting thoughts raced through his mind. What was he supposed to do? He could not refuse to help a Sky People elder. The old man seemed burdened with the task of protecting the sacred mountains, and for having been shunned by his brothers for wanting to do the right thing. Was it possible that the other elders of the Sky People couldn’t see that Mukua was trying to protect the homeland from destruction?

  Wo'itsa had seen it in his vision. He’d seen the changes coming in the future to the land, and it was not a place that looked at all like the mountains he called home. If the elder asked for his help, then he would give it.

  Rather than sit idle in camp and wait for Mukua to return, Wo'itsa took his bow and quiver, and headed toward the nearby river that flowed beyond the shimmering yellow canyon. It didn’t take long to find the prey he sought. Thousands of geese congregated along the banks of the river, and they provided an easy meal.

  Within minutes, Wo’itsa slung the goose he’d shot with a well-aimed arrow over his shoulder. This time, there wasn’t a pack of wolves in the area to disturb his hunt. While it wasn’t a buck, at least the bird would provide some welcome fresh meat. He was in no hurry at the moment to return to his village. Mukua had provided answers that no one, not even the shaman, had been able to give him, and now he would wait for the elder’s return.

  Wo'itsa gripped his hornbow in one hand, while his other fingers wrapped around the legs of the goose he carried. His mind wandered to past seasons, when he’d been a child, and the shaman had brought a strange boy into the village. He’d said the boy, Cameahwait, was under the protection of the Sky People, and he was to be raised and trained in the customs of the Tukudeka.

  Cameahwait hadn’t known any of the language or customs, but he’d learned quickly and over the years had taught Wo'itsa his strange words. Together, they’d learned to become hunters, until one day, Cameahwait had met another youth like him, someone with lighter hair and skin than any of the people. This youth had also been sent to live with the Tukudeka by the Sky People. After a while, Cameahwait and Matunaaga had left the village and not returned.

  Two seasons ago, Wo'itsa had crossed paths again with Cameahwait, who had been the same resentful man as he’d been in his youth. His dislike of the Sky People had only grown stronger, but they had eventually won him over when they had gifted him with a woman. A woman who had come from another time.

  Last season, Wo'itsa had crossed paths with another strange woman who’d said she was from a time in the future. She’d claimed to be Matunaaga’s chosen mate. At the time, Wo'itsa had simply assumed the women had been gifts from the Sky People and it hadn’t been his place to question from where they had come.

  Had the women been signs that change was coming to the mountains? After all that Mukua had told him, it seemed to make sense. Cameahwait and his wife, Riley, didn’t follow the customs of the Tukudeka, and Matunaaga had left the mountains with his woman, Michaela. Had they returned to the future?

  Ravens fluttered in the sky a short distance ahead, disrupting the quiet surrounding him. They hadn’t been obvious while he’d been deep in thought. Wo'itsa slowed his pace and kept his eyes on the birds. A congregation of ravens was usually a sign of death or a nearby predator. By the way these birds hovered in the air, whatever had drawn their attention was still alive.

  Wo’itsa lowered the goose from his shoulder. It was best to investigate. His camp was a short distance away, and it wouldn’t be wise to have a carcass so close that would draw the attention of a bear. The grasses grew tall here, and it was impossible to see from this distance what the birds had found.

  When he’d nearly reached the ravens, Wo'itsa dropped the goose. Something dark was lying in the grass. He moved closer, his muscles tense and ready to string his bow if needed. If there was an injured animal, it might jump at him in an effort to get away. He took another step, then froze. A woman?

  He glanced up to survey his surroundings. Perhaps there were others in the area. This wasn’t Bakianee territory, but it was always good to be cautions. His eyes returned to the woman on the ground. Her raven hair spilled across her face. Her peculiar clothing held his attention. The strange, dark britches and shirt she wore weren’t anything that a woman of the Tukudeka would wear, or any woman from this time.

  His eyes roamed over her as he took another slow step forward. The woman’s chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. There was no visible blood to indicate she might be injured. Wo'itsa’s gaze came to rest on her hand that lay across her belly. The sun reflected off something red and shiny clutched between her fingers.

  A chill raced down his spine. He pl
aced his bow on the ground and knelt beside the woman. Leaning over her, he reached out to lift her hand in order to see the object she held more clearly. At first glance it looked almost like the vessel Mukua had shown him the previous day.

  No sooner did his hand touch hers, than the woman’s eyes flew open. She gasped, then threw her leg up to deliver a swift kick to the side of his arm. The surprise move caught him off guard, and Wo'itsa lost his balance. The woman jumped to her feet as agile as a mountain lion, her eyes wide and staring at him. She swayed slightly and blinked as if clearing her head, then her hands were out in front of her, and she assumed a warrior’s stance.

  Wo'itsa sprang to his feet, holding his own hands out in front to defend himself if necessary. He remained in a crouched position in case she lunged at him. He didn’t reach for his bow or his knife. This little woman didn’t seem like much of a threat. She’d merely caught him off guard with her unexpected kick. If she attacked again, he’d be ready.

  Her eyes were on him, then darted around to look at her surroundings before they came back to rest on him. Although she tried to hide it, her gaze was clouded with confusion.

  Her unusual clothing didn’t suit the rest of her. It was dyed dark as the night, from her britches to the material she wore under the loose-fitting shirt that hung open in front. Women from his clan prided themselves in their sheep or deer hide dresses. No one would wear the strange garments this one wore.

  Her dark hair hung unbound down her shoulders, which ruled out that she was a Bakianee or Absaroka woman. They liked to tie their hair in braids. She wasn’t a Tukudeka or Akaideka woman, either. Her clothing was in the strange style worn by only two other women who had crossed his path.

  “Don’t even think of stealing this from me,” she hissed. She firmly gripped the object he’d tried to see, then quickly stuffed it into a pouch on the side of her shirt, which could possibly be a hunting jacket.

  The words she uttered were unexpected and sounded strange, but the language was still familiar to him. Her words were the same as those spoken by Cameahwait and Matunaaga. It affirmed what he’d already surmised. This woman came from a time in the future.