by Pam Webber
Win pointed up. “Look, there’s a supermoon tonight.”
“A what?” Cal asked.
“A supermoon. When a full moon occurs at the same time the earth and moon are at their closest point, it looks really big.”
The oversize moon crested as they reached the river, its face reflected vividly in the unusually smooth, mirrorlike water.
“That’s beautiful,” Nettie said.
“When the water is calm enough that you can see two identical moons, it’s called manosa mani, moon water,” said a voice from the dark.
The four of them spun around. Nibi had come up behind them.
“It means the light and dark energies of the earth are in balance.” Nibi stepped between them, staring at the moon in the water. “It doesn’t happen very often.”
“And if they’re out of balance?” Nettie asked.
“Nature does what it has to do to restore it. The moon’s face will become distorted or not visible at all.”
Once again, Nettie heard something more in her words and voice.
“You all enjoy the night. I’m going to head up the mountain before it gets too late.” Nibi pulled her shawl farther up her shoulders and winked. “Take it easy on the moonshine—it doesn’t take much to do a lot.” She disappeared down the river walk, humming along with the music coming from the gazebo.
“Busted,” Ethan said, as they watched Nibi blend into the night.
“Don’t worry,” Win said. “She won’t say anything more than she already has.”
Cal took Win’s hand and pulled her toward the gazebo. “Since all is right with the earth, let’s dance.”
Nettie wobbled as she turned to follow, the river walk wavy beneath her.
Ethan put his hand on her elbow. “You two go ahead. We’ll be there in a bit.” He guided Nettie to a park bench. “Have you ever had any kind of hard liquor before?”
“Are you kidding? My dad’s a state trooper, remember? He’d kill me. I snuck some beer under the bleachers once, but it didn’t cause anything like this.”
“If the light-headedness doesn’t pass, I’ll run back and get you something to eat. That will help.”
“I take it you’ve tried liquor before?”
“Put a bunch of high school boys together, and they’ll find a way to drink.”
“Do your parents know?”
“They do now. Mom had a fit when she found out. Dad was a little more understanding. He said drinking alcohol came with responsibilities he didn’t think I was ready for and threatened to take away my driver’s license if I did it again before I understood that.”
“My mom says alcohol makes bad seem good and wrong seem right.”
Ethan chuckled. “Now you know why people drink.”
“I like the feeling, but the taste is awful.”
“Here, have a Life Saver.”
Nettie closed her eyes, enjoying the silky taste of butterscotch and the sensation of floating along with the river. As the last sliver of candy melted, she realized Ethan had her hand. His skin felt warm and tingly. His closeness stirred her; the moonlight accented the highlights in his hair and eyes. She touched his face and put her lips on his. He tasted peachy.
Ethan put his arms around her, deepening the kiss. Pulling her closer, his hand found bare skin at her waist.
Fighting wooziness, Nettie pulled away and straightened her blouse. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No worries. I figured it was the moonshine talking.”
“Then why’d you kiss me back?”
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Ethan laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You think I’d turn down a chance to get a kiss?”
“Okay. I started it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. One of these days, you’ll do it again, and you won’t be thinking about anyone else when you do.” Pulling Nettie to her feet, he put a steadying hand on her hip. “Let’s go get some of Mrs. Loving’s cookies and then dance our socks off.”
Chapter 8
Win slipped Nibi’s small hatchet through a loop on her waistband. “I wish you were going with us.”
Nibi continued to grind a handful of dried sage in her mortar. “Don’t underestimate what you know. You two are smart. You’re strong. You know how to hike. You know how to camp. And you know how to protect yourselves. Your parents and I wouldn’t let you go if we didn’t think you could do it.”
Nettie slid the knife sheath onto her belt. “Making these dreamcatchers is a bigger project than I thought it would be.”
Nibi stopped grinding. “It’s not a project. It’s a journey.”
“Why a journey?”
“Because journeys force us to make choices that never leave our lives in the same place.” Nibi added more sage to the mortar. Her pestle crushed the pungent leaves as rhythmically as a ticking clock.
Nettie wanted more—the real reason Nibi had started her and Win on the dreamcatcher journey. But she wasn’t going to get it just because she wanted it. Nibi shared information in strategic layers.
When she had transformed the sage into a coarse powder, Nibi poured it into a small pouch. “The amethyst mine is special to our people. Burn this in the cave before you leave. It will give thanks for the stones and honor those who came before.”
Ushering them to the back porch, Nibi unrolled a small leather map and laid it across an old drum table. “This is where we are, and over here is Spy Rock.” She pointed to the real mountain in the distance. “That’s it. If you don’t dally, you can be there by supper-time.” She marked another mountain on the map. “This is Devil’s Peak. You have to cross it to get to Spy Rock. Be sure to watch the tree markings when you get to the top of this one. The Appalachian Trail goes to the left, but you want to take the unmarked trail on the right.” Nibi moved her finger down the map. “It ends at a creek that sits at the base of Spy Rock. From this point, you’ll see an outcropping of boulders about halfway up the face. The stones will look like a carved waterfall, tall and ridged.”
Nettie searched the bottom of the map for a legend. “Was it? A waterfall?”
“Centuries ago. Its waters helped form the Tye River. Once you’re inside the cave, you’ll be able to hear the headwaters.”
“I don’t see a trail up,” Win said.
Nibi shook her head. “There isn’t one. You’ll see why when you get there. The terrain is steep and rocky, so figure out your approach before you start up. At the base of the ridged boulders is a narrow ledge. Once you’re on it, follow the wall into the deep shadows on the right. The wall looks like it ends, but it doesn’t. Feel your way along the stone until it curves into the mountain. Just past the curve is a narrow crevasse. It’s just big enough for you to slide through. The amethyst cave is on the other side.”
“We don’t have flashlights.”
Nibi pulled a flint from her pocket and handed it to Win. “Do you remember how to make pine-knot torches?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. You’ll need several. You’ll find plenty of pines along the tree line at the top of Spy Rock. Once you’re in the cave, you’ll see where others laid their fire. Use that site. It has the best draw for the smoke.”
Nettie moved her foot out of the way as a spider darted across the porch toward a web full of egg sacs. “Anything live in this cave beside spider mothers?”
“Probably not, but be careful where you put your hands and feet anyway.”
“Great.”
Nibi handed Win a long shoulder sack. “There’s a canteen and a hammer and chisel in here. Amethyst is hard, so be patient and chisel carefully.” She handed a second sack to Nettie. “There’s another canteen and enough pone and jerky in here to last two days. Your stones need to be about the size of your thumbnail. The darker, the better. Once they’re mined, keep them in the sage pouch. You don’t want to lose them on the way back.”
Nettie and Win trekked to the top of Nibi’s Mountain, stopping long enough to wave to her from Lo
okout Point, a stone extension of the mountain that provided an incredible view of the valley. Running the ridge, they turned north and descended into a gap leading to Devil’s Peak.
Hours later, Nettie stopped to take a long drink from her canteen. “The mountain didn’t look this steep on the map.”
“It also didn’t look this pretty or smell this good.”
Something shimmered in the trees. Nettie moved closer. “Would you look at that.” A giant spiderweb, sparkly with morning dew, ran from one tree to the next.
Win spread her arms to gauge its width. “That’s some web.”
The ordinary-looking spider that had created it sat in the middle, bundling an unfortunate bug. Dozens of other food sacks dotted the web.
“Wonder why she needs such a big web? And so much food?”
“Must be preparing for something.”
“Just goes to show you what one spider can accomplish.”
“We need to get moving. We not even halfway yet.”
By midafternoon, they reached the unmarked trail. Two hours later, they made it to the creek at the base of Spy Rock. Nettie dropped her sack and stretched. “Water’s running high.”
“High enough that we’re going to get more than our ankles wet.”
“According to the map, the only footbridge is a mile downstream. We’d lose too much time getting there. We’ll have to cross here.”
Foraging two strong limbs to use as wading staves, Nettie and Win slid out of their jeans and socks and stuffed them in their sacks, then tied the sacks around their shoulders. Putting their shoes back on, they held hands and waded in.
“Damn! It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be.”
Their teeth chattered as the cold creek quickly went thigh high.
Moving across the current, they navigated around and over slippery rocks. Reaching the opposite bank, they rubbed their legs for warmth and refilled their canteens. Nettie started to pull her jeans from the bag, when Win stopped her, staring downstream. “Don’t move.”
“What is it?”
“A bear cub.”
“I don’t see it.”
“It’s coming.”
Nettie scanned upstream. Nothing moved. Quiet surrounded them. Even the ever-present nosey squirrels went silent.
“Are you sure? I don’t see a thing.”
Forty yards away, leaves rustled and twigs snapped as a black bear cub burst playfully out of the bushes and scampered to the water’s edge.
Win reached for the hatchet at her waist and whispered, “Momma’s coming.”
“Where?” Nettie eased her hand into the shoulder sack to get their food.
“She’s following the cub.”
Bigger brush surrendered noisily to the lumbering momma bear as she joined her baby. Straight up, she’d be six feet tall. The wind blew toward Nettie and Win, so she hadn’t scented them, yet.
Win inched back toward Nettie; then, side by side, they moved farther away.
The momma bear caught their movement and pivoted with a guttural growl. Moving in front of her cub, she huffed and pawed the ground, shaking her big head.
Win yelled and waved as Nettie heaved their bag of food; its contents spilled around the bears’ paws. Nettie and Win then dodged behind a long line of rocks and took off up the mountain, not stopping until they were high enough to see the bears still feeding at the water’s edge.
Panting, Nettie sank to the ground, her sides cramping. “We were almost bear bait.”
Win propped her hands on her knees, breathing deeply. She attempted a giggle. “Well, one of us would have been. I can outrun you.”
“Jokes? Really? That bear was close enough that we could smell it, and you’re cracking jokes?”
Win stood to check on the bears again. “Beats the alternative. Plus, I think we handled it pretty well.”
“True. Unless you consider we have no food.”
“We have plenty of food. We just weren’t planning on eating nuts and berries for two days.”
Nettie pulled on her jeans and socks. “I hope these blasted dreamcatchers are worth all this.”
The ledge of the stone waterfall sat ninety feet above them; they had no way to reach it from below.
Win groaned. “We’ll have to backtrack to where it’s not so steep, hike up to the tree line, cross over the top, and come down from the other side before it gets dark.”
“And we have to find pine knots for torches while we’re up there, then get them, ourselves, and the bags down to that ledge without sliding all the way back down here.”
“Right. Nothing to it.”
Struggling to keep their footing, Nettie and Win backtracked to a lesser incline, then climbed parallel past the formation. Once they reached the tree line, the ground flattened. Gathering pine branches, they split the knots, then stuffed them with pine cones and twigs to make torches. Following the tree line, Nettie spotted a patch of blackberries. “Thank goodness. I’m starving.”
After eating their fill, she and Win picked the remaining berries, wrapped them in large poplar leaves, and stored them in the sacks.
Moving to the edge of the stone face, Nettie kicked at the sandy gravel, sending a loud spray cascading down the slope beyond where she could see.
“We’re going to have to sit to do this,” Win said.
Nettie squatted to test one of several clumps of scrub brush growing amid the stones. It held when she tugged on it. “Dig your heels in and hold on to this stuff. It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Nettie sat, balanced the torch-filled sack on her back, and inched downward. Win followed close behind. Every movement caused currents of pebbles to flow ahead of them. As they neared the ledge, Win’s brush broke loose, sending her sliding into Nettie.
“Dig in!” Nettie yelled, as she made a frantic grab for a cluster of craggy rocks near the ledge.
A cloud of dust and gravel swallowed them, but the craggy rocks held.
“Work your way over to the ledge, then help me over,” Nettie said.
Win tossed her sack carefully onto the flat stone and inched her way across. Scrambling up, she got on her knees to give Nettie a hand.
Once on the ledge, Nettie peeked over the rim. “I don’t want to think about how we’re going to get down from here.”
Win pointed to the corner of the formation. “There’s the shadow Nibi told us about.” She led the way into the darkness, feeling along the curved wall, searching for the crevasse that would lead them inside.
“Please don’t let any snakes be in there,” Nettie prayed.
“We’ve made so much noise getting here, any critters calling this place home are long gone.”
“We hope.”
Win stopped. “I think I found it. It’s not very wide.” She eased the sack off her shoulder and handed it to Nettie. “When I get to the other side, pass these to me; then you come.”
“Be careful. You’re brave to go first.”
Nettie felt Win’s smile more than she saw it. “I’m not the first.” Win disappeared into the black wall.
Inching closer, Nettie waited, admiring Win’s courage. The cool air coming through the crevasse felt damp and smelled like a litter box.
“Win? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I think I’m in. I just can’t see.” Her words echoed. “It’s pitch black in here. Hand me a sack.”
Nettie inched into the crevasse, the sack in her outstretched hand. She felt Win take it.
“Hand me the other one.”
Nettie inched back into the crevasse with the second sack. Handing it to Win, she continued to follow the curved stone. She could hear Win rummaging through their supplies.
“Found the flint.”
Nettie stepped into open space as the torch flared and filled the cave with yellow light. Sudden, frenzied flapping over their heads made them duck.
“Gotta be bats,” Win yelled.
“That explains the smell.”
“Leave them alone, and maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
“Don’t tell me—tell them.”
When the bats had settled, Nettie stayed low to light a second torch. The boost of light increased the shadows dancing on the walls as the smoke surged up and out of the cave, through the top of the crevasse. The remaining haze made the cave’s odor bearable. Lowering the torch, Nettie scanned the floor. It was covered in bat guano, but nothing wiggled. “So far, so good.”
“Listen.”
The soft roar of big water echoed from deep in the mountain. “That has to be the headwaters of the Tye.”
Win moved the torch closer to the wall. Long, erratic dribbles of water mapped the stone. “Look.” Symbols, names, and messages were scratched all over the cave. She pointed at a squiggly line. “This is the symbol for ‘river.’ The half circle with lines above it is a symbol for the moon. And the circle with horns covering it means ‘strong medicine.’ I’ll bet some of these carvings are hundreds of years old.”
They moved about the cave, reading the names and messages they could decipher. Most of the readable ones simply marked the writer’s presence in the cave. Some spoke of love and longing, others spoke of fear, and still others spoke of those who had come before and their love of the earth.
“Oh my gosh.” Win ran her fingers along some carved letters. “‘Dell loves Nibi.’”
“Dell is your grandfather?”
Win nodded. “He must have been with Nibi when she mined the amethyst for her dreamcatcher.”
“How’d he die?”
“An accident of some kind. Nibi doesn’t talk about it.”
“It had to be hard for her to raise your mother alone.” Nettie did a double take at the next name. “Holy cow. Look at this. ‘Piccolo loves . . .’”
“Pic? Who does he love?”
“I can’t tell. There’s a dark drip line staining the stone.”
“Funny. I never imagined Pic loving someone.”
“That I can imagine. What I don’t understand is why he was here. Like me, he’s not Monacan.”
“Maybe when Nibi brought Dell here, Pic came too. After all, they’re friends.”
