by J. M. LeDuc
“Water panther? What’s a water panther?”
“Your moments in the Black panther’s presence were few, but if you had a chance to look more closely, you would have seen gills under his fur at the base of his neck. Mike, the water panther, is just as comfortable in water as he is on land.”
Not wanting to know any more, Pamoon looked away from Kise and kept walking.
“You did nothing wrong,” Kise said as they walked. “He had the ability to choose good or evil. He chose.”
Her words seemed empty as Pamoon continued in silence.
Reaching the cave, she found her friends huddled by the fire, wrapped in blankets.
She saw them stare at her, or through her, with a blank, foreign expression.
“Do they know who I am?” she whispered.
“They know their friend Pamoon. But they do not know the being that stands before them now.”
With furrowed brow, she looked at Kise.
“You have never seen your reflection while in the cave, have you?”
Pamoon shook her head.
“Look into the flames.”
Peering into the fire, Pamoon saw the reflection of an Indian squaw. The same reflection she saw in Powaw’s mirror the night of her ceremony, but now her reflection was so bright, it was almost hard to look at.
“In the Spirit World, it’s your inner being, the one you will become, if you choose, that is visible.”
Pamoon eyed her friends again. “They just keep staring at the flames. Can they hear us?”
“Yes, but they don’t understand what is being said. We’re speaking in a language that is only known to those who dwell on the Mount.”
Pamoon’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.”
“Come,” Kise waved. “It’s time to take them home.”
“How?”
Kise pointed to a new tapestry that now hung next to the others. A tapestry of the familiar woods.
65
Homecoming
March 24, 8:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon stepped through the tapestry first and used her phone to signal for help. Her call was answered immediately. She was happy to hear White Eagle on the other end, and asked him to meet her at the entrance of the woods along the reservation border. Through tear-filled, muffled speech, she informed him of all that happened, including Mike’s final choice. He told her not to speak of what occurred mostly because no one would believe it. Then he gave her a cover story.
* * *
When her friends stepped through the tapestry into the woods, their memories returned. They remembered nothing of Kanontsistonties or their turning, just that they had been abducted, drugged, and somehow saved by Pamoon.
Back at the campfire in the woods, Pamoon appeared as she had after the battle. Her skin, cut and dirty; her clothes, torn. Worse, her body bled from Kanontsistonties’ attack. She looked down at Scout—who was once again his normal size and color— to see that he, too, wore the cuts and blood from the fight. Unable to place weight on his front left paw, he hobbled beside her.
* * *
Her friends wrapped their arms around her and Scout, each crying a non-repayable thank you. Their memories were foggy, but they didn’t care. All they cared about was going home. For a moment, they didn’t even realize Mike wasn’t with them.
Ralph was the first. “Where’s Mike?” he asked with a raspy, dry voice.
Pamoon dropped her head, her shoulders slumping forward. “He was dead by the time I found you,” she lied.
The group mourned in silent tears as they continued their walk home. Pamoon couldn’t help but notice that Bobby seemed even more detached than the rest. She quickened her limp so she could walk next to him. “Are you okay?” she breathed.
He nodded with a far-off look in his eyes.
Not much of an answer, but she accepted it.
Joyful sounds could be heard through the thick pines as they neared the reservation. Each of her friends wrapped their blankets tighter around their tired bodies and ran toward the sound of their loved ones.
Pamoon, along with Scout and Atahk, watched the loving, tear-filled reunions from their place in the woods. She wasn’t sure how she could pull off the lie White Eagle had told her to repeat, so she was hesitant to join the party.
Scout wagged his tail and whined, pulling at her pant leg. “Okay, boy,” she said with a deep breath. “Let’s go home.”
Leaning on her staff for support, she limped the last few feet of anonymity. Scout hopped next to her, head held high. Atahk flapped her wings, perched on top of her staff.
Emerging from the woods, Pamoon spotted Nuna, White Eagle, Tihk, Tsomah, and Powaw. Nuna ran to her and wrapped her in an impassioned embrace, covering her bloodied face with kisses, whispering Cree words of love and admiration.
Pamoon’s reunion with White Eagle was different. Somehow, more strained. He was all smiles, proud of what she’d accomplished, but she remained cold. She couldn’t shake the truth, or the fact that he’d told her to lie.
When Powaw, Tsomah, and Tihk approached, her cold persona melted in their touch. The next thing Pamoon felt was a tap on her shoulder by a paramedic.
She and her friends were whisked off by ambulance to the medical center for examination and treatment. Scout was taken to the animal clinic to have his injuries looked at.
Once Pamoon was examined, x-rayed, and stitched up, she was questioned by both the tribal and Swamp Ridge police. Glancing at White Eagle, who gave her a quick wink, she repeated the story he’d given her. She told them that she found a small piece of Bobby’s clothing hanging from a thorn bush. Scout, using his keen sense of smell, led her to a campsite hidden deep within the Everglades. She continued by telling everyone that when she’d tried to free her friends, a bearded man attacked her with a knife. She told how she and Scout fought, finally killing him. Her with her staff; Scout with his teeth. She said the assailant stumbled into the swamp and sank before she had a chance to retrieve him.
The others, their memories altered, repeated the same story, but with more enthusiasm and detail.
When the questioning ended, Pamoon glanced at the morning paper which had been delivered to her room. TEENS RESCUED read the headline. Glancing at the article, she stared at a picture of Mike, with the words, missing and presumed dead, written underneath.
Shaking, she whispered to White Eagle that she wanted to go home.
“I’ll go ask the doctor if we can take you.”
While everyone was out of the room, Pamoon replayed everything in her head. When she got to the point where she put her necklace back on after everything was over, she grabbed her right ring finger and broke into a cold sweat. Kamenna’s ring was missing. It must have slipped off during the fight, she thought.
Sitting up, she located her clothes in a clear plastic bag sitting on the bedside table. Changing quickly, she limped out of the room, down the hall, and out an emergency exit before anyone could stop her.
* * *
White Eagle and Nuna returned to Pamoon’s room to let her know she could go home to find her bed empty and her hospital gown on the floor. Back out in the hall, White Eagle noticed the red light blinking over the emergency door. He and Nuna ran down the hall, through the door, and down the stairs.
The reservation was busy, but there was no sign of Pamoon.
“Where did she go?” Nuna stammered.
“I don’t know. You check home; I’ll check the woods.”
“The woods? Why?”
“She needs closure,” he answered, “to come to grips with what happened.”
Nuna sighed. “I’ll check the house; you check the woods.”
66
Ring
March 24, Noon
* * *
Pamoon’s mind was spinning from a combination of adrenaline and medication as she stumbled along the border of the reservation. Spotting the path that led to the camp, she felt energized. Forgetting her pain, she ran as fast as her l
egs would carry her until she arrived at the campsite.
Bent over, her hands braced against her knees, she huffed, trying to suck in air. After a few minutes, recovered enough to speak, she yelled in Cree, “I need you.” With no response, she screamed louder, “Ayas, please.”
The smell of Birch permeated her senses as the warm breeze tussled her hair. Wind funneled before her eyes, taking shape and form.
As Ayas materialized, Pamoon threw herself at him, hugging him tight, her lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. “Thank god, you’re still here.”
“Um, I will always be close by,” Ayas replied, confused by her actions. “But I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“I need you to come with me and help me find my ring,” Pamoon said, breaking their embrace.
“Okay, lead the way. If it’s in the woods, we’ll find it.”
“Not here,” she mewled, still out of breath and groggy from whatever meds they gave her at the hospital. “I lost it during the fight. It’s somewhere in the cave. In the netherworld.”
Ayas dropped his head, his shoulders sloping forward. “I’m not allowed anywhere in the spirit world. I can’t go,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, it is just a ring, you can get another.”
“NO, I can’t! It’s not just a ring. It’s the only memory I have of my mother. It is my only connection to her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
“Then you’ll come?”
“I am forbidden to step—”
“I know, I know. I’ve heard the story.” Pamoon stomped her foot, her words keeping pace with her anxiety. “You are forbidden to step onto the Spirit Mount, but I don’t need you to go onto the mount, just come with me to the cave and . . . you know, help.”
“It’s all part of the spirit world,” he answered. “The cave is the gateway to both the mount and the netherworld. I am forbidden to step foot into any of it, or I will be lost—forever.”
“I can’t go back there alone.” Fear shook her body with every syllable spoken. “I need you,” she trembled.
* * *
“I can’t,” Ayas mouthed, turning away in shame.
“Fine!” Pamoon yelled. “Then I’ll do it myself.”
* * *
Ayas’ cheeks reddened in frustration. “Please understand, I’ve waited for so long.” He expected Pamoon to yell or try and convince him otherwise, but he heard nothing. When he turned back, she was gone. Looking about the empty campsite, he never felt more alone in his entire life than he did at that moment. “I’m sorry.” His words were muffled by his hands covering his face. Slumping against a tree, he stared at nothing. He felt like he had no purpose. No reason to breathe.
Ayas had no idea how long he stood there, but his despair quickly turned to frustration and anger. He didn’t know if he should curse Kisemanito or himself. About to explode, he heard rustling in the trees. Spinning around, he hoped to see Pamoon run through the branches, but instead, he saw a man. A man he recognized as the chief.
“You must be Ayas,” White Eagle mouthed, out of breath, as he approached. Ayas watched in silence as the chief looked about the site.
With a nod and a wipe of his eyes, Ayas acknowledged his words. “And you, the chief. Her uncle.”
“Have you seen Pamoon?”
“She was here asking for my help,” Ayas nodded, his words full of pain and sorrow. “She lost her ring during battle, but I am forbidden to—”
White Eagle grabbed Ayas and forced him to look him square in the eye. “Where did she go?”
“I’m not sure, but I think she went back to the netherworld to find her ring.”
The chief shook him harder. “There is still one demon down there. She has no weapon, no way to fight!”
The words were like a spear in Ayas’ heart. Acting on pure emotion, he transformed into wind, whipped through the woods, and flew down the hole in the base of the large pine tree—into the pit of the netherworld.
* * *
Pamoon, again in the Spirit Cave, ran the entire way until she reached the fork. Without hesitation, she turned right and ran a few feet before the ground dropped off. The slope, almost straight down, caused her to lose her footing. Tumbling downward into the netherworld, there was nothing to grab to slow her descent. Hitting rock bottom with a bone-jarring thud, she slowly unfurled her body, magnifying the pain.
Looking around the dank world, the heat and darkness overwhelmed her. Sweat poured from her brow. Growing accustomed to the lack of light, she searched the cave floor, but all she saw was blood . . . and feathers. So many feathers. So many dead birds.
Her entire body began to quiver. Why didn’t I notice this before?
She fell among a pile of dead ravens and began to cry. Picking up a fallen hero, she pressed its cold body against her cheek. These ravens are dead because they followed my command. Because they trusted me.
“More death because of me,” she wailed.
“And soon, you will join them.” The words vibrated within her soul.
Pamoon’s heart jumped at the sound of the voice. Mike’s voice. She laid the raven at her feet and slowly lifted her head. In front of a small pool of water that sat in the middle of the cave, a panther, water dripping from its hide, slinked forward.
Prowling closer, the cat growled, “You’ve made my life easier. I thought I would have to wait, possibly years, for another chance at killing the Kiche. But you have chosen to come to me.”
“No,” Pamoon stammered as she scooted backward, using her legs to push herself further away. “I just came to find my ring. I didn’t come to find you or to cause any more trouble.” Fear streamed down her face in the form of tears. “I don’t want to cause any more death.”
“It’s your lucky day, then. I’ll be causing the death.” The panther’s tongue licked its upper lip.
Pamoon found purchase on the slippery ground, gripped a stone, and scrambled to her feet. “Mike, we were friends,” she cried. “Please try and remember. There is good in you, I know there is. Please. Come back to me…to us!”
“We have been enemies since time began. The Kiche and the Michi-Pichoux. My time has come, your time is about to end. Now my power will be limitless.”
The panther sprung off its back legs and attacked, with claws aimed straight at her. She reared back and threw the rock with every ounce of strength within her, striking the beast between the eyes. The hit dazed the cat but not enough to stop its charge. The panther, rabid with anger, grabbed Pamoon by the back of her shirt as she tried to run and rag-dolled her back and forth until all her fight was gone.
* * *
Michi-Pichoux, the water panther, dropped Pamoon’s limp body from its mouth—saliva dripping from its teeth—and lifted its head toward the netherworld, roaring its victory loud and clear for all to hear. My power will know no bounds. Everything must bow down to me.
The panther waited for the echo to stop, bit down on Pamoon’s shirt, and dragged her into the black pool. Just as her head submerged, a cool, sweet-scented blast of air entered the cavern, grabbed Pamoon’s body and tore it from the beast’s mouth.
The panther shook the water from its fur, crouched its muscular frame and flicked its eyes about the cave.
* * *
Ayas stood, gripping his knife so hard, the veins on his forearm looked like a road map. He hadn’t been this angry since the day he scratched his doom into the cave wall. With fire in his eyes, he bellowed, “You want a fight? Come and get it.”
Ayas and the panther circled one another; each watched and waited for the right moment to attack. Ayas studied the wildcat’s movements, looking for a weakness. An opening. From previous battles in his long life, Ayas knew that as anger built within the enemy, their breathing labored. He waited for the cat to exhale, knowing it needed a chest full of air to pounce, and he ran straight at his enemy. The panther was fast and leaped, simultaneously, causing both combatants to strike each other in midair; their col
lision sounding like two mountain rams colliding.
In a blur of blood and screams, the two fought, first in flesh and then in spirit. Each turned into wind; one sweet and white, the other putrid and black. The storm flew from one end of the cave to the other, kicking up dirt, rocks and feathers, alike. Each time the tornado hit a wall, a wail of pain could be heard. The greyish funnel cloud, spitting bits of red, spun directly over the black pool, forming a water spout. Wind and water combined, ripping a hole in the surface, and disappeared into the pool.
* * *
Water splashed Pamoon. Regaining consciousness, she crawled, bleeding and bruised, along the cave floor, searching for a way out. Spotting a glimmer of light, she crawled in its direction, freezing when she heard a loud howl explode from the depths of the black water. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Through her hysteria, she expected the panther to sleek from the water, but instead saw Ayas crawl from its depth. His face and body gashed and bleeding, but he was alive.
Pamoon scrambled to her feet and with the little balance she possessed, she weaved toward him, arms outstretched, falling into his arms. “You came,” she breathed, her lips meeting his.
* * *
Ayas hugged her as if his life depended on her touch. Through his pain and exhaustion, he spotted a flicker of silver. Cradling Pamoon, he reached down and picked up her ring. He clutched it his fist before placing it on her finger. Holding her to him as if they were one, Ayas transformed both into wind.
67
Campsite
