Bear's Heart

by Corie Weaver

  To pass between buildings, the children showed me a system of tunnels carved from the bedrock countless years before. I had never known they existed, not in all the times I had visited Ash. Now I was grateful. Every trip below ground provided a respite from the sobbing wind. We began the slow process of relocating the ill down below. They did not improve, but did not weaken further.

  Still, I had not visited some sections of the village yet and somewhere, in a tiny dark room, I feared to find my friend.

  My parents had told me when a healer is truly working, when there is a crisis among the people, you have no friends, no enemies, only patients. You sort them, determine the extent of their injury or illness, do your best for each and move on. There is no time, no energy, for anything more personal than that.

  I did not believe them when they told me this. I laughed and said I would spend extra time with my friends. I would sit by their bed, even when I wasn’t needed and make sure they knew I cared for them. As a child, I had frowned to think of curing enemies. Wouldn’t it be better to let them die?

  But now I knew better. You cannot spare the energy to decide who to treat. All are simply bodies before you, bodies that do not work the way they should and all you can do is your best to make them well. Anything else, any other thoughts, simply must wait.

  And so I did not rush to my friend, ask where I could find him, did not do more than wonder if he was in the village, or alone in his small house. By nightfall I could no longer move, could not climb up or down another ladder. I sat next to the fire, yet felt no warmth. I tried to shift into the warmer bear shape, but could not hold the image in my mind long enough to complete the transition. I lay still and gazed into the fire.

  ~ * * * ~

  Isabel stood slightly behind a man dressed in a brown loose robe belted with leather. She clutched at the squirming Nicco, as if desperate to keep the large cat out from under foot and more importantly, away from sharp hooves.

  “Tell your people to bring my men five bags of corn and some water for our horses,” the leader of the horsemen snapped, not even pausing to dismount. His sun-wrinkled face stared over their heads, as if he already had passed through, was already gone.

  The man in the brown robe ignored the rudeness. “Captain, these people are under the protection of the Church. They provide service for the mission and as such are exempt from tribute, as you well know.”

  The captain slapped the dusty brown neck of his horse, then swung his leg over and dismounted, signaling the rest of his men to do the same.

  “This isn’t tribute, Brother, just a polite request for resupply. We’re on our way east, out to the far mesa. The Brother stationed there sent a message with one of his faithful; they’re having trouble with those dances and masks and what not again.” He brushed a layer of dust off his buckskin leggings, then straightened. “I would have thought you would want to support us ridding the pueblos of the devil dancers.”

  “So, this is merely a request?”

  The captain lightly touched the sling from which a long dagger hung. “Exactly, Brother Alonzo. A request.”

  Brother Alonzo gestured for one of the older village men to come forward and take the captain’s horse. Others came and held the bridles for the rest of the soldiers’ mounts and led the horses off to drink.

  “Request or not, we cannot give you five bags of grain. My children here are hungry and the harvest has been poor. I fail to understand why you could not have been bothered to carry enough with you.”

  The captain laughed. “Why should we bother, old man. There are villages aplenty to supply us on the road. Besides,” he leered over Fray Alonzo’s shoulder to where Isabel stood. “It seems you have plenty of food to keep some extra comforts about.” Her cheeks flushed and Fray Alonzo stepped forward, towards the captain, who continued on, disregarding the angry set of the other man’s jaw. “You can always eat that cat if you get hungry enough. He looks big enough to provide a dinner for half the mission.”

  Isabel stepped from behind the shelter of the priest, eyes blazing, hand wrapped fiercely in Nicco’s black-and-white fur. “Nicco at least serves a purpose in keeping the mice from our corn as it dries. It’s a pity he can’t protect us from all thieves and beggars.”

  The man’s face darkened and he raised his hand to the girl.

  “Enough!” Fray Alonzo boomed. “Captain, your horses are watered.” He pointed behind the company where a large group of men from the village stood, holding the horses. “You should go now. There is nothing for you here.”

  The captain and his men swung up into their saddles and whirled their mounts around. “I’ll be sure to tell Governor Otermín about your lack of cooperation today. We shall see what happens the next time you call for help when the Apache threaten to raid.”

  The company galloped away and didn’t hear Fray Alonzo’s shout to the sky. “Nothing, that’s what will happen. And the Apache wouldn’t raid if you would stop attacking them for slaves!” Fray Alonzo lowered his fist. “Mongrel dogs, every one of them.”

  And then he looked at where Isabel stood behind him with wide eyes and his face softened.

  “I’m sorry, child. Of course I don’t mean that about you. Come on,” he laid a hand on her thin shoulder, “let’s go inside and see what can be done about dinner tonight.” He scratched behind Nicco’s ear and was rewarded by licks from a bright pink tongue. “Put that beast down and let him do his work, now that you’ve so admirably defended him and his position with us.”

  ~ * * * ~

  “Bear Girl? Are you all right?” Ash knelt over me.

  “My apologies. I merely became tired.” My mind caught up with me. “I thought you must be here, but there are so many people . . .” My voice faded out and I leaned into his chest, just for a moment, just to rest.

  He patted my hair awkwardly. “I am fine. The wind tires me, but I am not sick, not like some of the others here.” He looked down.

  “What is it?”

  “My mother. When you can, will you come see her?”

  I closed my eyes, gathered what strength remained in me.

  “I will come now. Show me the way.”

  ~ * * * ~

  Ash carried my basket with its sorely depleted contents and threw my coat over his arm. He led me through the tunnels, then up into a room that was empty save for one figure who lay quiet. Strands of her gray hair pulled out from the thick braid to lay loose upon the pillow.

  When I finished my examination of Ash’s mother I turned to him and motioned that we should step outside of the room.

  He grabbed my arm. “What is it? What is wrong?” His white face looked ghostly in the shadows.

  I shook him off and whispered, “Outside now, please.”

  On the roof the wind howled. “I have done what I can for your mother. She is not in any immediate danger, though she should be below with the others.”

  “Why are we here?” he waved his arms around the rooftop. “I believed you wanted us to stay out of the wind as much as we are able to.”

  “What do you hear?” I had begun to have suspicions about the cause of the illness, but wanted to mull over what it might mean.

  Ash frowned. “I don’t hear anything clearly.”

  I pressed him. “What does the wind sound like to you?”

  After a moment he answered. “Voices. Or a voice. It is hard to tell.” He shook his head. “I think it is a voice, calling for someone. Sometimes I think I recognize the voice, but I don’t know who it is.”

  “Who do you think it sounds like?” I was curious to see if his answer lined up with my suspicions, but I did not wish to reveal my thoughts, not yet.

  “Sometimes I think I hear my mother calling.” He blushed. “Sometimes the voice sounds more like Maggie.”

  Interesting. I wondered which voice he found more embarrassing to tell me. But the other girl’s name reminded me of my mission.

  I gestured for us to return inside. After a quick stop to adjust
his mother’s blankets, we returned to the silent room in which he had found me before.

  “Ash, I didn’t come to the village for the reasons I usually do, just to visit or trade.”

  He shrugged. “I did think this an odd time for you to be traveling. But I did not think to ask. We needed you and you appeared. I do not know what we would do if you were not here.”

  I squirmed. “That is part of the problem. I need to leave.”

  He stared at me. “You cannot! There are people here that depend on you. My mother . . .” His voice choked.

  I ran my hands through my hair. “Ash, you must believe me. There is nothing I have been doing to help anyone, even your mother, which I cannot train you or any other healthy person to do. All that can be done is keep the afflicted comfortable and wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  I looked away from the village, into the night. “Wait for me to leave, so I can complete the task laid upon me. Wait and hope.”

  I told him of my meeting with Spider Old Woman and my need to cross over to Maggie’s world to find the source of the wind.

  He stared at me. “How long will you be gone?”

  I threw my hands into the air. “I do not know anything about it. How can I? I have never been to the other world. I came here because I wanted your assistance. And now I do not know what to do.”

  My exhaustion returned in full force and I leaned against the wall.

  Ash gazed at me, his face grave. “Give me three days.”

  “What?”

  “Three days and then I will guide you to Maggie’s world. I do not know what good my assistance will be, but you will have it. But first, stay here with my people for three more days and see if there are any you can save.”

  ~ * * * ~

  I spent the days training more assistants. As I suspected, the younger adults were less likely to have succumbed to the voices of the wind. In conversations with the families of the afflicted, I came to understand all those who now lay motionless, or tossed in fever-filled dreams, had heard the voice of loved ones calling them. But unlike Ash, the loved ones they heard were all lost. Long ago or recent, it made no difference. In every case of illness, I discovered the voices of their dead called to them.

  Mid-afternoon of the third day arrived and I sat and sorted through a final pile of herbs gathered by my helpers.

  I had not spoken to Ash further about when we would depart. I knew he did not want to leave the side of his mother even though he knew there would be little he could do to ease her.

  A thin girl tumbled down the ladder. “Healer, healer! Your friend is coming!”

  I looked up, confused, then climbed the ladder after her and tried to focus my eyes in the bright sun to follow where she pointed.

  In the distance I could see someone approaching, braced against the wind as if expecting a physical blow. At first I thought a strange boy had come, then recognized the tall girl with light-brown hair, dressed in boy’s clothing, walking beside a medium-sized, black-and-white dog.

  “Maggie!” I shouted and waved my arms over my head.

  She glanced up and gave a little wave, then wrapped her arms around her body and shuffled further down the trail towards the village.

  Ash reached Maggie before I did. By the time I met with them on the trail they had nearly reached the village. His arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders and she kept one arm at his waist, as if holding herself up only by force of will.

  Ash helped her towards the ladder and I turned to Jack. The dog sat before me, ears up, tail sweeping large arcs into the dust.

  I reached over and scratched behind his ears. “It is good to see you as well, but we should go in.”

  He trotted before me through the streets of the village.

  “Jack, wait!”

  The dog stopped and looked at me over his shoulder, with a clear expression of “now what?”

  “We all need to go inside. I do not know if the wind will harm you as well, but I would feel better if you joined us.” I moved towards the ladder. “I will help you, if you would like.”

  He gave me a wide grin and his tongue lolled out. Then he continued in the direction he had been heading before I called and went around a corner.

  “Wait!” I scrambled to follow him and found him scratching up a flat stone. Beneath it were a set of neatly folded buckskins. Jack turned to me and raised the marks on his forehead that were placed just where eyebrows would have been.

  Oh.

  “I am sorry, Jack. I was not thinking.”

  Face burning, I went back around the corner and waited.

  In a few moments, a wiry dark-haired young man came out from the alley the dog had gone down, a broad grin on his face. Jack poked me in the ribs. “You need a nap, or some coffee, or something. Of all people, I didn’t expect you to forget.”

  I had been there when the sorcerer whom Maggie fought last summer tried to trap her in another shape. Jack had been caught in the spell by mistake, turning him into a young boy. Only by luck and determination had we been able to get him to safety and only by the good graces of Spider Old Woman and Coyote was he now able to change shapes as he liked.

  Unlike me, his fur did not stay with him. I should have remembered he needed a few moments of privacy to change forms and cover himself. I shook my head.

  “Come on. Maggie will be wondering where we are.”

  Chapter Six

  “What is going on here?” Maggie’s teeth chattered as she rummaged through her ever-present backpack, finally pulling out a large scarf, wrapping it like a blanket over the long shirt she already wore.

  “What is that wind?” She stopped, face pale. “Is he out? My dreams were so odd. Did he escape?”

  Ash shook his head, grabbed her arms to calm her.

  “No, Maggie. Shriveled Corn Man is still locked away. There is more than one danger that roams here.”

  Maggie’s shoulders sagged in relief. I understood her fear. This wind did harm, but Spider Old Woman felt the illness was something in the nature of an incidental side effect. Shriveled Corn Man had been full of malice and hatred and a twisted madness.

  “Come, let us sit and talk.” I led them away, not to one of the underground storage rooms, far from the wind, but a high chamber. I wanted light, light to see the faces of my companions as I told the story as I knew it so far. We sat in a small adobe apartment. The building was constructed so that most of the windows faced other buildings around an enclosed courtyard. Light came in but the courtyard was not large enough for the wind to blow into our little refuge with any true force.

  Maggie looked at me, brow furrowed, then sat on a folded blanket. Ash sat near her. Jack stayed in a corner, in what shadows remained, leaning against some old sacks.

  I wished he would come and join us, but something in his posture made me leave him alone, focus my attention away from him and onto Maggie.

  “Maggie,” I started then stopped. How to best explain my mission from Spider Old Woman? Her words had been so vague, but her intent definite.

  "First, what did you mean by ‘odd dreams’?"

  She shook here head. "It hasn't been like before, when Coyote was playing games. For the last week, every time I woke up I thought I could hear someone calling me, like when you can hear someone talking, but can't quite make out the words. This morning it was so strong I couldn't think of anything else but to see if it was from here."

  Ash and I looked at each other and shrugged. "We have not called you, but we do need your help. This wind has blown across the land for weeks. Spider Old Woman believes the source of the wind comes from your world.”

  Maggie sat up straight, tilted her head. “My world? But how could anything there affect the weather, the wind here?”

  I shrugged. “When I visited Spider Old Woman, she caused me to have two visions. The people in the first dressed much as you do. It could have been a scene from your home village, or any other in your world.” I paused. “There have b
een other visions as well, but Spider Old Woman thought they are echoes from something else, possibly confusing the message.”

  Ash interrupted. “But I thought your family did not hold more pinang than the shape change? Not,” he hurried to add, “that I believe that to be an easy thing. But you have never mentioned holding magic before.”

  “I do not,” I said through gritted teeth. “Only what I was born to. I want no magic. I will be no sorceress, but a healer, as I have been trained.”

  Ash frowned at my words. How could he understand? He was found, brought to the village as a child and though none held that against him, he could not understand how important it was for me to follow in the steps of my family, to do as my people have always done.

  Maggie’s lips pursed and she looked worried. “Visions, where you see what’s going on? Or dreams, where people speak with you?”

  “Visions. I watch only. A girl, a boy and a man in a strange robe and other men on horses and . . .” I laughed. “A very large, fluffy black-and-white cat.” I glanced over to where Jack sat in the shadows. “You and he would make a fine pair.”

  He snorted and I continued my story.

  “And then another place is tied in to all of this somehow.” A hopeless request, to ask her to find a place I had glimpsed once in a vision and only briefly.

  Maggie nodded. “Tell me and I’ll let you know if I’ve seen it.” She brightened. “Even if it’s not in Albuquerque, I might have seen something about the place on television or in a movie, or if it’s someplace famous that gets used a lot. Or . . .” Her voice faded as Ash and I stared at her.

  “Um, right. So, just tell me what the people looked like and I’ll do my best.”

  I closed my eyes, ignored the whispers of the wind outside, sought to pull the image from my mind, to see it clearly again. “Men and women walk around, in a wide variety of clothing. Many wear blue pants like yours, though some women wear skirts and both wear shorter pants. Both the men and women wear their hair long and short and some of them have colors in their hair, blue or green or even white, even though they do not look old.” I opened my eyes.