Spirit Quest
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Spirit Quest
Honi’s Story
Ella J. Smyth
Contents
Spirit Quest
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Ella’s Author Notes
Also by Ella J. Smyth
Disclaimer
To my wonderful sister Eva whose encouragement via WhatsApp from the US to Germany has made this project possible. Isn’t technology awesome?!?
Spirit Quest
Black wings. Beating hard, stirring up dust and leaves. Honi covers his eyes and turns away. The noise is deafening, a dull ‘thwap, thwap’ as the air is displaced by the powerful movement. Dread rises within him, pressure on his chest, in his head. Honi squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can and tries to lift his hands towards his ears.
His fear grows when his hands seem paralyzed. He’s too scared to lift his head and face the giant creature that’s causing his body to slide backwards with each wing beat. The air is saturated with dirt and breathing becomes harder. Finally Honi gives in to the inevitable and stops fighting.
With a gasp, he sits up straight in his narrow bed. This is the third time in as many nights that he dreamed of the giant bird. He looks around him at the discarded clothes next to his bed that his mom bugs him about. It’s early morning, too early to get up on a Saturday.
His head drops back onto the Spiderman-themed pillow. He’s really too old for it but he won’t let his mom throw away one of the last reminders of his childhood. Not until it’s tattered and torn like his favorite American Dragon shirt.
His eyelids are on the verge of falling shut when the sound of beating wings comes back, much fainter but still loud enough for Honi to hear it through the window.He swings his feet out from under his blanket and quickly pulls on yesterday’s t-shirt. His nose wrinkles but then he shrugs. It’s fine, only smells a little. He scratches his head, tugging some of the long black hair out of the ponytail he wears at night.
Everybody is fast asleep when he tip-toes down the stairs. It’s cold. The blue light is still dim enough for his eyes to struggle identifying the shapes in the hallway. He shivers in the early morning chill and rubs his arms vigorosly. There’s something eerie about being up so early. Unfamiliar noises sound in the living room, wooden walls creaking, thermostat ticking before it sends a signal to the heating system.
It feels like an adventure, exploring the outside, the neighborhood he’s spent all his life in. Nothing ever happens here, other than some dude drinking too much and whaling on his wife. That happens quite a bit actually and Honi’s father talks about how the problem is getting worse.
Last winter Jim Beaver was arrested after his girlfriend had enough of him taking all the benefit money and getting drunk and leaving her with their kid.
Honi feels queazy when he remembers how she looked after the police left. Jim had beaten her for calling the cops on him and his dad said he was lucky he didn’t get shot. There was so much shouting that all the neighbors woke up and watched the commotion with stony faces.
This morning is dead quiet. It’s still early enough that even the guy down the road hasn’t left yet and he starts really early, even on a Saturday. Some job in town, construction his dad said. Honi takes a deep breath. He hates getting up early but loves being outside at dawn.
There’s a crispness to the air that is burned off when the sun climbs higher. The dawn chorus is in full swing, birds competing with each other in who can wake up the neighborhood the best. A chipmunk runs up the tree in the front yard, a red-brown streak of white racing stripes.
Movement draws the boy’s attention to the left. There, on Dave Lightfoot’s roof, sits a black bird, enormous and heavy. It’s much bigger than a crow, a raven maybe? He looks closer. The bird is gorgeous, black shiny feathers covering its massive wings, deadly claws on its bony feet holding on to the top of the roof. Its beak looks as sharp as a vicious blade. It’s bigger than any bird Honi has ever seen before.
The boy startles as he is hit by deja-vu. The dream, vapid like smoke when he woke up, suddenly comes back to him with technicolor images. This gigantic bird is what he saw, what he felt. As he stares up with trepidation at the raven, its black eyes, devoid of emotion, stare right back at him.
Then with a haughty caw, it beats its wings and despite its enormous bulk, gracefully lifts itself onto the invisible currents. Honi follows its flight until it disappears against the rising sun.
His head is still lifted upwards, trying in vain to make out the tiny black dot, when he hears a voice calling his name. For a moment he’s a little disoriented and looks right, then left. Dave Lightfoot waves at him, agitated and upset. “I need help, Mary isn’t well. Could you please wake your mom?”
His face is contorted with worry and Honi doesn’t hesitate. He runs back inside and knocks at his parents’ bedroom door. His mom is a light sleeper and she opens the door already fully dressed. She rushes past him, and Dave and his mom walk over to the house. He doesn’t know what to do. It doesn’t feel right to follow them when Mary might be sick.
He walks back down to the kitchen and grabs some bread from the counter. His mom makes her own cornbread which tastes great but he’s only allowed to spread chocolate on it on weekends. His mom is on a major health trip and won’t allow sugary food in the house.
Honi spends a few minutes rummaging in the pantry until he remembers that she probably locked all the treats in the boot of the car. She says out of sight, out of mind. It seems to work for her so Honi isn’t complaining. As long as he can still eat his favorite cereal and candy. He reads the latest Wolverine comic when he sees blue lights flashing outside the house. Curious, he steps outside again and loses his appetite.
His mom is standing outside with her arms around a sobbing uncle Dave, his body strangely fragile against his mom’s solid bulk. Two EMTs load Miss Mary into the back of the ambulance. With the oxygen mask on her face, she barely looks alive.
Her skin is waxy-yellow and she doesn’t move. Miss Mary is obviously very very sick because the two men work frantically to get her into the back of the van. The ambulance tears out of the driveway and as it approaches the crossroads further down the street, the siren howls ominously.
Uncle Dave’s sister arrives later that morning. Honi’s mom spent all morning next door and when she comes back, she looks tired. “Miss Mary died an hour ago,” she says, sitting down heavily. She looks at her son pleadingly. “Would you be a darling and get me some chocolate cookies from the car? I need a cup of coffee.”
Honi knows better than to remind her of her diet right now. When he returns, his father is holding his mom tightly. They’ve known the Lightfoots for many years, long before Honi was born. Miss Mary used to babysit Honi when he was little, and still helped out sometimes with his younger brothers.
But she had gotten old over the last few years and the noise of three little boys was just too much for her. She never forgot Honi’s birthday though and always gave him some money for mowing their lawn or washing their car. Even when Uncle Dave had already run it through the carwash in town.
Honi’s eyes starts burning. Uncle Dave is all alone now. Miss Mary would never again bake her award-winning peanut butter butterscotch cookies. Or make hot chocolate for the kids that shoveled her driveway in the winter. A little sob escapes him despite his attempts to keep quiet.
“Come here,” his father whispers. And with a louder sob, Honi throws himself into his parents’ embrace, soaking up the familiar comfort of his dad’s aftershave and his mom’s vanilla body wash. For another little moment, growing-up can wait.
Honi wakes up with a bad taste in his mouth. There had been no bad dreams that he remembers. He scrunches up his face and smacks his lips, trying to move some saliva around his mouth. When he looks up
, his father is sitting by his bedside. “Morning dad,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands over his eyes.
His father smiles weakly and with a sudden rush, the memories of last night come flooding back. “It wasn’t a dream then. Miss Mary is dead,” he whispers.
“Afraid so, son.”
“You know, when I dreamed about the raven, I knew something bad would happen. And it did.”
His father sits up a little straighter. “Was it a nightmare?”
“Yeah, kinda. And you know what?” Honi looks up at his father’s face for his reaction. His dad is looking at him with a strangely intense expression but nods to continue.
“I saw a big black bird sitting on Miss Mary’s house. And then it flew away, just when Uncle Dave came running up to me.”
He falls silent for a moment. When his father doesn’t say anything, he turns his head and looks at him. For a brief moment, Honi sees worry in his eyes. Then he visibly shrugs it off and says quietly to himself, “Mary Lightfoot’s maiden name was Blackwing.”
He hesitates before turning back to his son. “Are you sure the bird was a raven? I thought the crows had driven them away in these parts. I haven’t seen a large raven in many years.”
Honi thinks for a moment. “No idea. It was a really large bird though, as large as an eagle nearly.”
His father chuckles. “Yeah, right. Large as an eagle. Sure not as large as a dragon?”
“Whatever,” Honi replies grumpily. He hates it when his father pokes fun at him. That black bird had been huge. Not his fault his father never believes him. Then he starts to think. Miss Mary’s gone and there’ll be a funeral. He’s never been to one. What if he makes a fool of himself and cries? That thought makes him sad and tears sting his eyes.
Then he feels his father’s hand stroke his hair. “It’ll be okay son,” he says before leaving the room. Honi may be nearly grown up but his father’s touch still has the power to soothe him. He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. No need to get up early today.
The second time Honi wakes up, he is sick of lying in bed all day. The light paints his desk and book shelf with a bright sheen that reflects back right into his eyes. He groans in protest as his hand flies up to shield his face. Things to do. May as well get a head start on his chores or his parents will be on his case for the rest of the day.
He glances around his room, taking in dirty plates and discarded clothes. Later, he decides and makes his way down the stairs to grab some cereal. He scratches his head and yawns so hard that he nearly doesn’t hear his father on the phone.
“John, are you sure?”
His father has his back to him and sounds anxious. Honi is about to sneak past him when he hears his name. Quickly he retraces his steps up the stairs, confident that his father hasn’t noticed him yet. “No, he’s never before talked about seeing animals or dreaming about them.”
Why would his father discuss his nightmare with the tribe’s shaman? John often calls to visit but lately he’s been busy with teaching the little kids Mekui’te traditions. Honi hasn’t seen him in weeks so what’s this all about?
“Isn’t he a bit young for this? He’s only…” - his father interrupts himself and listens, -“I know but…” Then his head drops a little in defeat and he finishes, “Fine. I’ll talk to Rose and Honi this afternoon.”
When he turns around, he sees Honi sitting on the top of the stairs, eyes wide open, burning with curiosity and questions. He sighs. “Come on son, may as well talk about it now.”
When they walk into the kitchen, Honi’s mother stands by the sink and cleans the stainless steel with bleach. She does this every weekend like clockwork. Says it makes her happy, keeping the little they have nice and tidy. Where some kids associate the smell of baked bread with home, Honi’s mind jumps to his mom’s big sunny kitchen when he smells chlorine. Go figure. And now that food has crossed his mind, he remembers that he wanted cereal when he woke up.
“Dad, I’m hungry. Can I eat while you talk to us?”
“Sure.” His dad smiles indulgently. “Rose, I’ve just come off the phone with John. There’s something you both need to know. Could you sit down while I explain?”
His mom pulls off her rubber gloves with a snap, then drags a chair out of the sun and sits down. “Okay?” she says with a slightly confused smile.
Honi grabs the second chair and quickly pours his favorite cocoa cereal and milk into a bowl. Then he sticks his spoon into the brown goo and chews with his mouth open. He mainly does it to gross out his mom and on cue, she glares at him. He closes his mouth and grins at her. After she’s finished rolling her eyes, they both look expectantly at Honi’s father.
“Right, are you done now?” He looks slightly less amused than usual. Honi feels a tiny quiver of unease. Something’s up. “As I said earlier, I just finished talking to John. I told him about Honi’s nightmares and that he saw a large black bird fly off the Lightfoots’ house when Mary died.”
He stops and looks at them as if they should know the significance of what he just said.
“And?” mom prompts him.
“Mary’s last name was Blackwing.” Still nothing. “Blackwing? Like the black bird flying off the house?”
“You gotta give us a bit more, Dan. I have no idea what you’re getting at,” his mom voices both their thoughts.
Dad huffs in irritation. “I forgot you didn’t grow up with the legends. The Mekui’te believe in spirit walkers, members of the tribe who have the ability to walk between this world and the spirit world. Their gift shows itself at an early age when the walker sees spirit animals in our world.”
Honi’s eyes grow large. Is his Dad saying what he thinks he’s saying?
His mom interrupts again. “And what does this story have to do with John?”
“John believes that Honi may have the gift.”
Honi’s jaw drops. He’s heard of spirit animals, sure. Mainly as stories told by Elders during the annual PowWow. Some people were supposed to have seen them, but those were just stories, right?
“What? Has he gone totally nuts?” Leave it to his mom to get straight to the point.
His father takes a deep inhale. “That’s what I told him too. But he insists that Honi saw Mary’s spirit animal ascend the night she died. In fact he says he suspected for a while that Honi has the gift. He thinks Honi should do a spirit quest.”
Honi’s eyes dart to his mother’s face that has grown darker the longer his father spoke. “Okay, let me rephrase. Have YOU gone insane? Honi is thirteen for goodness sake! What’s your plan, drop him into the wilderness and see if he makes it back? What the hell?” Her voice grows louder and louder until she nearly shouts. His father knows better than to argue with her when she’s angry.
“Honi, please go up to your room. I need to talk to your mother for a moment.” Rose sits back with a scowl, crossing her arms over her chest. Honi takes one more look at his parents. Yeah, he really doesn’t want to be around when they get like that. He quickly grabs a banana from the fruit bowl and runs upstairs.
Honi sits in his room, trying to listen in to his parents’ conversation. This is taking forever. And they’re mumbling so he can’t hear anything other then the odd word or his name. What did his dad say? A spirit quest?
He tries to remember what he knows about it. He read that in the olden days, like a hundred years or so, young men would be sent off into the mountains or plains with some water, pemmican, and drugs like peyote. Then they’d meditate and return with stories of weird visions. If they survived and not get killed by wild animals, they’d be warriors of their tribe.
He giggles. As if his parents would let him go off with drugs. They threw a fit when Sam from down the road was caught with grass in college. Honi had to sit through a lecture about the evil of drugs. Just say no and all that shit. If they knew how many kids in school were high all the time!
His father calling him from downstairs interrupts his train of thought. By the time Honi walks bac
k into the kitchen, his mom has left. She only does that when she’s caved and isn’t happy about it.
“So your mother and I have agreed that you should do a spirit quest.” Apparently his mom isn’t the only one to get straight to it! Honi opens his mouth to ask but his father continues, “obviously we won’t send you out there with drugs” - well that’s that question answered - “but you will be by yourself. You’ll have a little bit of food and water and you will be quite safe. John’s going to give you more instructions but you can’t come back until you’ve found your spirit animal.”
He stops and looks expectantly at Honi. The boy’s head is spinning with questions. “How long is that gonna take? You know I’m starting camp next week, right? How will I even know I found…”
“Stop son. I know this is scary but it’s just like a couple of days camping. I’ll talk to your camp counsellor. You’ll know you found your animal when it happens. Sure you’ll be a bit hungry and bored. And you’ll have to meditate…”
“Meditate? Are you serious?” Isn’t that what old hippies do? Or those new age tourists that visit the reservation during the summer?
“Meditation has always been part of our tradition. Do they teach you nothing at school? It’ll help you still your thoughts and time passes a lot faster as well. You’ll get really good at it when you’re out there on the mountain. Trust me.” His father smiles reassuringly at Honi.
“So did you do a spirit quest when you were young?”
“I wished I had but in those days we weren’t encouraged to follow our traditions. We couldn’t even speak our own language,” Honi’s father sighs. “There’s been a revival over the last few years and you’ll be the first boy for many years to do it.”
Honi sits up a little straighter. Once it is over, he’s going to be the only kid in school who has undergone a rite of passage like in the olden days. He’d be a warrior. Legit. Honi can feel a gigantic smile break out on his face. So friggin’ cool!