by J. M. LeDuc
She watched as Ayas remained stoic, but his sky-blue eyes gave away his desire to do as she asked. “I’m here to be of assistance. While you stay in the woods, I will stay with you.”
The two straddled a log that lay close to the fire pit, facing each other.
Pamoon lowered her head and wiped her bangs from her face, blushing underneath. Unsure of how to begin the conversation, she sat twisting Kamenna’s ring on her finger.
“That is not the first time I have seen you touch your ring,” Ayas said. “It must hold some importance to you.”
“It belonged to my mother,” Pamoon said, eyeing the turquoise. I guess touching it brings me comfort.”
Pamoon saw Ayas close his eyes and emit a subconscious grunt. “Hmm.”
She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but instead, she just watched.
After a few seconds, he opened his eyes. He took a handful of dirt and let it sift through his fingers before looking at her. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Everything,” Pamoon answered, her eyes wide with excitement. “Where are you from? How did you get here? And,” she paused before asking the next question, “how did you become a wandering spirit?”
She saw Ayas’ face blanch with the last of her questions. It was as if she had reached in and pulled his heart from his chest.
“I didn’t mean anything bad,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. “I just want to know as much about you as possible.”
She felt Ayas squeeze her hand and for the first time realized they were holding hands. Her pulse quickened and her skin flushed. Part of her wanted to pull away, but didn’t. Instead, she squeezed back.
Pamoon’s eyes never left Ayas as he took a deep breath and began talking. “I come from a tribe far from here.”
“Where?”
“The Great North, a place you call Canada. From as far back as I can remember, I had the ability to read nature. As a young child, I knew when it was going to rain by the smell and feel of the wind. I knew if we were being followed by predators: animal or man.”
“You were hunted by men?”
“It was a different time. A time when the white man feared our people and wished to cage . . . or kill us.” Ayas’ frame seemed to collapse in on itself as he remembered his past.
Pamoon squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Ayas shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. The past is the past.”
“So how did you end up in the Spirit Cave.”
“When I turned sixteen, I was given a quest by the elders. A quest that focused on finding my spirit identity.”
“And, did you?”
“I did,” he said. She witnessed Ayas’ expression warm as he thought back to a happier time. “I was one with the wind. I could not transform then, but I felt like I could fly. My spirit identity was why I sensed the weather or an upcoming attack. The wind carries scents that others are unable to smell.” Pamoon continued to watch as Ayas’ face hardened and his posture slumped. “But I was cursed to smell them all.”
“Why do you say it’s a curse?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry,” Pamoon blushed.
Ayas laughed at her reddening.
“It’s not funny,” Pamoon grinned while playfully, slapping his arm. “Forget that question and continue with your story.”
Ayas nodded, seemingly thankful for not having to answer her question, and continued with his train of thought. “The Creator came to me in a dream. She showed me the Spirit Cave and allowed me to step onto the Spirit Mount. She said it was my destiny,” Ayas’ voice began to train off, “if I continued to follow a righteous path.”
Pamoon wanted to interrupt him, to ask him what happened, but she remained silent, her curiosity eating at her.
“A few years later, I was allowed in the cave for real. I asked if I could venture on to the mount but was denied. I asked again and again, Kisemanito’s answer always the same. I became angry and started to shout. I said some things I shouldn’t have and the fire in the cave grew dim.” Ayas dropped his head, his eyelids closing. “Because I thought I knew everything and that I was better than my brothers, I decided to alter my destiny.”
Pamoon licked her dried lips with a heavy tongue. Finally, able to speak, she whispered. “That’s when you scratched that scene in the wall.”
Ayas raised his head. A single tear ran down his cheek. “That’s when I was banished and became a wandering spirit.”
“Did Kise tell you what you had to do not to be banished?”
“Kise?”
Pamoon shrugged. “A nickname I call The Creator.”
“What is a nickname?”
“A name friends use as a sign of endearment.”
Ayas’ chest rose and fell with internal laughter. “You truly are favored,” he said. “If nicknames are used among friends, then I wish to call you Omi.”
Pamoon blushed. Short for Omiyosiw, Beautiful One. “I’d like that,” she said, twirling her ring on her finger.
Ayas took a deep breath and stood. He looked around the woods and then down at her. “You asked what I had to do to find my way back; I was given no particular duties. I was just told to wander the earth, and do as I am asked until I discovered what is missing in me.”
“That’s what you’re doing now? What was asked?”
He nodded. “I will continue to do as Kisemanito asks until I once again gain favor.”
“So if the Creator had asked you to leave me alone to fight those demons, you would have?”
“If that’s what was asked of me, yes.”
She stood, clutched her staff, and brushed the dirt from her jeans. His answer saddened her to a point of anger, though she wasn’t sure why. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Ayas straight in the eyes. “Thank you for what you did, but I no longer need you.”
Ayas’ right eyebrow cocked upward. “I sense you are disappointed with me. Did I do or say something wrong?”
“No. You did exactly as you were supposed to: nothing more, nothing less.”
“Then, why are you angry?”
Pamoon took a few steps away from the campsite and then turned back toward Ayas. “Maybe what is missing is heart. Maybe you need to stop thinking about what you need to do for yourself and start thinking about what’s best for others.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You said you can sense what is happening around you. Instead of tracking smells, try sensing the emotions that are in you.”
“Isn’t that what got me banished in the first place?”
Pamoon opened her mouth to respond, but didn’t. Couldn’t. Was he, right? Now, she was confused. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong,” she said. “I only know that I need to follow what is in my heart.”
“And if your heart is wrong,” Ayas stepped a bit closer.
“Then maybe I’m not destined to be the Kiche.”
She watched as a look of total confusion fell upon Ayas. His lack of words spoke volumes.
She pointed her staff at the treetops. “Go and wander until you are called again.”
54
History
March 18, 8:30 p.m.
* * *
Tihk had been eavesdropping on the conversation between Ayas and Pamoon and stepped forward after he left. “You were kinda’ hard on him, don’t you think?”
“You heard what he said,” Pamoon answered, rubbing her arms and wrists.
“What I heard was a brave speaking who has been trapped in limbo for over one hundred years. Put yourself in his place. If you were banished from your family and friends and the place you loved more than any other, wouldn’t you do exactly as you were told to try to make it back home?”
Pamoon sat on the log, and dropped her head. “I didn’t think of it that way. But—”
“Didn’t it seem weird to you that when you introduced me to Ayas, neither of us seemed shocked to see the other in the w
oods?” Tihk asked as he built a small fire in the pit.
Pamoon thought back to the introduction. “Yeah, why did the two of you say hi like you already knew each other?”
“When I first entered the woods days ago,” Tihk said, sifting through the ashes with his boot, “I felt a hot breeze and smelled the foul odor you spoke of. I sensed evil but couldn’t see it. The nasty smelling wind was blowing toward me and, this might sound strange, but it felt like it had weight behind it. Not just wind, but a presence, if that makes any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Pamoon answered.
“Just before it was about to hit me,” he continued, “another breeze stronger than the first struck me from behind. It blew at the back of my knees, knocking me to the ground.”
“Another beast?”
“No.” Tihk shook his head. “This wind was cool and smelled of birch.”
Ayas.
Reading her knowing expression, Tihk nodded. “If not for Ayas, I would be a demon, just like Bobby and the others.”
* * *
Hearing Tihk’s words, Pamoon dropped her head into her hands, forgetting her cut. “Ouch,” she groaned. Squinting away her pain, she said, “So he had thought of others before himself. And I chased him away like a spoiled jerk. Do you think I’ll see him again? Get a chance to tell him I’m sorry?”
Tihk smiled. “I’d bet my life on it.”
The happenings of the past few days played through Pamoon’s mind like a movie. “This is all too much,” she mumbled. “Last week I was just a teenager, excited about turning sixteen, getting my driver’s license, and worried about who liked who in school. Now I’m . . . .” She looked up, glanced at Tihk, and then stared off into space. “Now I’m the Yee Naaldlooshii; someone who will save nations?” she said, throwing up her hands, “Somehow, I play a part not just in the present but also the future.” Her voice rose in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be the next coming of a Native American goddess, yet I can’t even figure out how to help my friends. How does any of this make sense? I’m not even a Native American!”
Glancing back at Tihk, she saw a smile spread across his face. “What are you smiling at? This isn’t funny.”
“You are so much like your mother. I mean, Kamenna.”
Pamoon punched the air and pointed at Tihk. “That’s something else I know nothing about. I have a mother who left me on a doorstep when I was just days old. I don’t know if she is dead or alive, or anything else about her.”
“You know she loved you,” Tihk said, “or she wouldn’t have brought you to the reservation.”
Pamoon bunched her hands into fists as years of frustration burst out in a guttural scream.”
Tihk tossed his head back in a fit of laughter. “You are definitely Kamenna’s daughter. No one else could make that noise.”
“Not funny,” Pamoon whined, punching him on the shoulder. “Stop laughing and tell me what I should do.”
The expression on Tihk’s face turned serious. The corners of his mouth turned at a slight downward angle and his eyes pinched, his crows’ feet deepening. “First, let’s get one thing perfectly clear. Being Native American has nothing to do with heredity. Native American isn’t blood. It is what is in the heart. The love for the land, the respect for it, and the respect and acknowledgement of the spirits and the elders. That is what it is to be an Indian.”
Pamoon swallowed hard. “I’ve never heard you speak that way before.”
Tihk picked up a rock and threw it. “Maybe it’s time for me to begin.” Turning back toward Pamoon, Tihk lifted her makeshift headband. “Let’s look at that cut. The cloth you chose to use as a bandage was just as dirty as the rest of you.” After examining the gash on her head, Tihk handed her his bandana. “Put pressure on it until I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Into the woods—nature’s pharmacy.” She watched Tihk walk away from the fire into a thicker part of the woods. A few minutes later he returned cupping a leaf in his hand and holding his knife in the other.
“What’s that?”
“Water,” he said, holding an Oak leaf full of rainwater, “for cleaning, and pine resin,” he held the blade for her to see, “for sterilization and wound closure.”
Pamoon winced when Tihk lifted the rag from her forehead and poured the water over her cut. Using a clean edge of the handkerchief, he wiped the cut as best he could. “Now,” he said, holding the tip of his knife above the flames, “this is going to sting.”
“Why are you heating it?”
“It helps purify the resin and helps thin it out. Makes it easier to apply.”
As soon as the pine touched her open cut, tears dripped down her cheeks. Trying to take her mind of the burning, she gritted her teeth and said, “Can I ask you something?”
Tihk rolled his eyes. “As if I could stop you. Go ahead.”
“I remember you when I was little, you know, growing up. But when I turned nine or ten, you left the reservation. I didn’t see you again until a couple of years ago. Why?”
“You ask tough questions. Ayas doesn’t know how lucky he was to be sent away.”
“Stop it,” she giggled, slapping his arm.
“Watch the arm, I don’t want to poke your eye out.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s sort of a long story,” Tihk said, gently dabbing more resin on her cut.
She went to touch her forehead and Tihk slapped her hand away.
“It stings,” she said.
“So, you want to make it hurt worse.”
“No,” she mewled. “Tell me the story and maybe it will keep my mind off the fire on my head.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. You wrap that rat’s nest, you call hair in my bandana, so it stays off your forehead. And I’ll answer your question.”
Pamoon started raking her fingers through her hair, trying to get the knots out as Tihk began.
“You and I are a lot alike,” he said. “When I was young, I used to run away, a lot.”
“Why?”
“My parents died in a car crash when I was seven. After they died, I lived with Powaw. I became angry and defiant. I didn’t want to listen to my uncle, or to White Eagle, or any of the elders. I was always in fights with the other kids in school and on the reservation. I didn’t feel like I belonged, so I started to run away. When I was thirteen, I stole a car. Nuna’s car.”
“You stole Nuna’s car!”
“Eha. Not one of my proudest moments,” Tihk said, pulling his hair back, “but not my worst, either,” he mumbled. “I didn’t get far before I crashed it into a tree. Powaw and White Eagle were beyond angry. I was used to their yelling, and I knew I could handle their punishment, but it was Nuna’s disappointment when she looked at me that I couldn’t handle. I swore I was going to run away again, and this time, for good.”
“Is that why I didn’t see you for all those years, because you ran away?”
“Do you want to hear the story, or not?”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“About a month later, I took Powaw’s knife and hid it in my backpack. Instead of getting on the bus that morning for school, I took off. I hitch-hiked up to central Florida, around the Ocala National Forest, but I found myself alone and hungry. Very hungry.”
“What did you do?” Pamoon’s question, barely a whisper.
“I tried to rob a gas station with the knife. I was caught before I even left the station.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow. Anyway, I was found guilty and sentenced to a juvenile detention center until I turned eighteen.”
“Then what happened?”
“I had a cousin who was an Army sniper, Rowtag Achak. He was my mother’s nephew. Somehow, Powaw contacted him, and the next thing I knew, he was visiting me all the time. I looked up to him. He was an American hero. Everyone he met at the prison respected the hell out of him. I mean, who wouldn’t, he was a Special Ops sniper, an American hero.
“Over the next four and a half years, he taught me many things, he taught me how to be a man, but more than that, he taught me how to like and respect myself.”
“Where is he now? Do you still keep in contact?”
“Good questions. Questions for another day. Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you enter the Misty Woods after hearing what Nuna said about the others never returning?”
“Because of the jacket.”
Tihk shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? The words written on that jacket talked about me. Some sort or prophesy.”
“Prophecies are not truths until someone fulfills them; why did you choose to attempt to fulfill this one? I’m sure White Eagle told you, you didn’t have to.”
Pamoon thought before answering. “First, it was just curiosity, I guess. I mean, when Chief White Eagle showed me that jacket and it was written in Cree, I was dying to know what it said. Then when I found out about the Spirit Cave, I was excited. I was scared, really scared, but excited too. Then finding out that Bobby and the others were missing, and . . .”
“So,” Tihk interrupted, “you stepped onto an unknown path and followed although you could only see one or two feet in front of you. Never knowing the destination or what it would bring.”
“Yeah, I guess so?”
Tihk smiled. “You are more Indian than most Cree I know.”
55
Woods
March 19, 1:30 a.m.
* * *
As soon as Pamoon and Tihk stepped back on the reservation, word spread of their return. Powaw and Tsomah met them on the road as they made their way back to White Eagle’s.
Pamoon didn’t realize how tired she was until she sat down. She nodded off eating a late meal and dragged her sore and tired body to bed.
