[2014] Wildwood Shadows

by Scott McElhaney

  A visible bolt of lightning struck along the tree line in the distance. A few seconds later, a loud crack boomed followed by some rumbling. It started sprinkling all of a sudden and I realized just how useless my umbrella really was. I had no intention of putting it up if it meant foregoing the process of poking at the grass to chase the snakes away.

  “We’re not going to make it to the caves before this thunderstorm gets here, so we’re going to need to seek shelter beneath a nice evergreen if we can find one,” she said.

  We were moving slightly faster now as the raindrops grew larger. At least the bugs were leaving us alone now. Two more flashes lit the sky and the crashes of thunder followed much closer now. The woods weren’t all that far away from us anymore. We continued onward, keeping our focus on the ground instead of the sky. I offered a silent prayer to Jesus that he’d protect us from all that this world had coming our way. I wanted protection from the snakes, the lightning, and even the mosquitoes.

  In response to my prayers, the rain increased in volume. We were now getting pounded with the cold rain. Suddenly I saw the grass shrink down and that’s when I realized we were at the forest’s edge. Wildwood was running into the woods and I followed her lead.

  The forest canopy offered little protection. Although the treetops took on the wrath of the pounding rain, it still provided a steady sprinkle onto the forest floor. We continued running through the muddy woods as the thunder crashed more often. Finally, we located just the sort of pine tree Wildwood had in mind. There were four or five of them almost in a perfect line along the edge of a deep rut where water was now flowing steadily past.

  She pulled apart the branches that rested on the forest floor and offered for me to crawl in ahead of her. It felt improper being that she was the lady, but it didn’t make any sense to spend time arguing at the moment. I crawled through the mud to the trunk of the tree where it was somewhat dry. Wildwood followed right behind and leaned against the wide trunk at my back. Some rain still made it through, but very little. It might have been close to noon by now, but in our small hideout, it might as well have been midnight.

  “Sorry about freezing up back there,” I muttered.

  Thunder crashed again, followed by what sounded like an even harder downpour. From the feel of the water hitting us more often, it probably was a more significant rain now. I took out the umbrella and opened it. Wildwood immediately gasped, probably startled by the sudden opening. I then brought it up over us, scraping it against the branch above our heads accidentally. I looked up and was glad to see that I didn’t rip it.

  “This is really odd,” she said, feeling the fabric above her head, “What is it?”

  “A portable shelter, albeit a little small,” I said, “It folds open like this to keep the rain off us.”

  She stared at it, watching as some rain trickled down it and then off the side of it. We hunched closely under it as though worried about getting any wetter than we already were.

  “Did you bring a portable fire?” she asked, “What did you call those fire jars?”

  “Candles,” I said, “And yes, they are in the rolled blanket you’re carrying.”

  We unrolled the blanket across our legs so as not to get the wet blanket coated in mud. I quickly located a candle and the lighter. The wind and the rain outside continued in its angry attack, but we were doing alright in our little shelter. I lit the candle, giving us a good amount of light in our quaint little hideout.

  “What if this storm lasts all day?” I asked.

  “Didn’t you say that these candles can stay lit for more than a day?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t really asking about this,” I gestured at the candle, “I mean, we never made it to the caves or to the village you wanted to find at the lakes today.”

  “Maddox,” she gave me a curious look, “This was probably never a one day journey even in the best of weather. You’re living the life of an Indian now. If you have to stop, you stop. If you have to make camp, you make camp. This is the only life I know.”

  “Even if we have to hide out here all day?” I asked, “What about food and water? What about sleep?”

  “Really? Again, we do what we have to. If you want to go out during the rain, that’s totally fine with me as long as we stay under the cover of the trees. I’ve spent many days walking and hunting in the rain, so it doesn’t bother me,” she said, “But since we are really in no hurry and since the destination is always there, we have no need to soak ourselves to the bone. Especially if we have your portable shelter and our beautiful smelling fire.”

  I looked at her and realized she truly was as carefree as she had already seemed to me. She took “cool” to a whole new level. Perhaps I needed someone like her to offset my high-stress, worried-about-the-details type of personality. I always wanted to know what I’d be doing an hour from now or what the plan was anyway.

  “And don’t worry about food,” she said, “There’s always something to eat even if it’s mushrooms and wild onions.”

  “I’m not worried. I just wanted to make sure your plans weren’t getting ruined,” I said.

  “Plans,” she repeated, staring at the flickering flame between us, “My plans never extend beyond nightfall. On a given day, I may wake up thinking ‘I’m going to bag myself a full-grown buck today’ just because I know that people are getting tired of corn and duck. Or maybe I will wake up feeling like doing nothing but bathing in the lake. Whatever the plan happens to be, it’s a plan only for that day.”

  “I plan about everything. I want to know what I’m going to be doing next year. I want to know what’s going on next week. I’m just weird that way,” I said.

  “And your weirdness is going to cause you a lot of pain,” she said, “Could you imagine my pain if I had been planning to hang out with my family today? Or what if my plans were to go on a long hunting trip with Deer Tracker and his party in a few days? I’d be heartbroken because my plans would have been shattered. Instead, I’m moving ahead one day at a time.”

  I nodded, also watching the flame as it danced in the wind. A crash of thunder reminded us that the storm was still upon us.

  “What about your plans with me? Do they extend beyond today?” I asked.

  She nodded, “They do, but I don’t think on anything specific. For now, I plan to take you with me as far as I will go today. I plan to enjoy your company and to seek out some fish. I want fish for dinner today, but if that doesn’t happen, I will settle for whatever we find. At the end of the day, wherever we happen to be, I would like to sleep in your arms. But tomorrow? Well, that day hasn’t come yet, but I’d like to think it will be equally as simple.”

  I smiled and nodded.

  “What are your plans now that your world has suddenly changed?” she asked me.

  I looked down at the partially open blanket that lay across both of us. In the center, I saw the items I’d brought with us. One item peeked out from beneath my jeans and it struck me with a reminder of a desire I had and still continued to have.

  “You might laugh, but I feel very dirty and grimy and smelly. I’m used to bathing daily and I can’t even tell you the last time I washed myself,” I said, picking up the bottle of body wash, “This is a soap we use to clean our bodies with and it smells pretty good. My plan was the next time we found a nice creek or river, I was going to bathe.”

  She did indeed laugh. She took the black bottle and examined it. She squeezed it gently and then tapped it with her fingernail.

  “What’s this made of? And how do you make it work?” she asked.

  “The bottle is a thing we call plastic. I really don’t know how to explain it other than the fact that it’s a bendable, unbreakable ceramic,” I said, taking the bottle from her and opening the lid, “Here, smell that.”

  I sniffed the hole at the top to show her where the soap was. She took the bottle and smelled it. She jerked back suddenly, looked at the hole, and then sniffed it again.

  “That’
s lovely, but I can’t figure out why,” she said, smelling it again, “It’s not floral or pine like the candles. It smells like nothing else I’ve experienced before.”

  She handed it back and then I closed the top.

  “Does it make you smell like the soap after you use it?” she asked.

  “Yes, and you feel clean and refreshed instead of crunchy and dirty like I feel right now,” I said.

  “Then show me how to use it!” she said.

  “Now? There’s a thunderstorm out there,” I replied.

  “There’s a storm. The thunder is in the distance now, so it’s just a lot of rain,” she said, “We’re both still wet anyway. There’s a creek nearby that we saw before we got into here.”

  I looked at her for a moment and saw the glimmer in her eyes. We had nothing else to do at the moment anyway and it didn’t seem like the rain was going to let up anytime soon. I took the shampoo bottle out as well and then located a washcloth.

  “You do realize this means we will need to take off our clothes,” I said.

  “I’ve bathed many times before, Maddox. I at least understand that part,” she said.

  So we left our belongings beneath the pine tree underneath an umbrella and without a stitch of clothing on, the two of us showered in the creek, soaping each other up as best as we could. The water might have been cold, but it would rank as one of the best and the longest showers I’d ever taken up to that point in my life.

  Haskwaalawe

  Feeling clean and refreshed afterward, we decided to grab our belongings, wrap them up again, and then continue onward in spite of the rain. We shared the umbrella, more in order to keep the rain off our clothes than anything else.

  The forest was silent except for the sound of the rain beating on the leaves. The animals, birds, and insects seemed to have all gone into hiding like Wildwood and I had. There would be no hunting today and at the moment, I was so energized that I didn’t even look forward to stopping so soon anyway. I was only hoping we’d find somewhere to stay before nightfall.

  The forest opened up again after about an hour of walking. This time, we discovered a grassy hill with random trees scattered throughout. The land as a whole was headed gradually upward with a swampy marsh to our left. We couldn’t really see the swamp past the high grass and the cattails, but it was evident enough by the sulfuric smell and the plant life that grew in that area.

  The rain had become nothing more than a steady sprinkle now and a rainbow arced across the sky before us where the sun had offered a hint of its rays. We had overcome the hill, finding that it merely formed a plateau that extended a few miles and then headed back down on the other side.

  We located the lake she had been looking for shimmering on the horizon as we started down the hill. The sun had been peeking through randomly and now the view of its glittery reflection on the wave crests was a welcome sight. I lowered the umbrella and then realizing the rain had pretty much stopped, I folded it back up and tucked the wrist cord through my belt.

  We reached the lake about fifteen minutes later and found it to be coursing with life – both in the heartbeat of the six-inch waves as well as in the life it contained beneath the surface. We walked along the edge of the lake, examining it for the first time ever. She had stated before that she had never been here or at least that she had never seen the caves. I took it to mean the same thing.

  “It’s going to be hard finding dry wood for a fire. Keep your eyes open for anything that looks like it is dry enough,” she said.

  “We can use my lighter to start a fire,” I offered.

  “No, you said that those have limited fuel. Starting fires the normal way takes no fuel at all,” she replied.

  She stopped and pointed across the way at the beach. I saw what she was showing me immediately. It was a sandy beach with a solid wall of rock behind it. That wall of rock angled sharply inward at the bottom, giving it something of an overhang. While it wasn’t the sort of cave I had been expecting, it could be considered a cave nonetheless.

  “Let’s gather some wood and build a fire over there. You check beneath the trees over there and I’ll check over here,” she pointed to the two groupings nearby that didn’t actually amount to a forest, but rather a small village of trees.

  I ducked into the shade of the trees, searching the ground nearby for any fallen limbs. Most everything I found was soaked or buried in wet leaves. Finally after some searching, I located a dead limb still caught in the branches a few feet above me. I was able to reach it with my shotgun and knock it down. Although the four-foot limb was a little wet, a minute or two in the sun should dry it out enough.

  By the time I returned to the beach, Wildwood had already left a pile of three limbs on the sand. She was now standing on the shore with her bow drawn and an arrow aimed at the water. I didn’t notice until after she had released it that there was a thin cord tied to the end of the arrow. The arrow created nothing more than a circular ripple as it sunk into the surface of the lake. Even before half of it disappeared from sight, she retracted the cord and the arrow with it. At the end of the arrow was a nice-size fish.

  “I never realized one could fish with a bow and arrow,” I hollered, dropping my branch onto hers.

  “It’s easier for me that using a spear or a net,” she replied.

  She removed the fish from the end of the arrow and then dropped it to the ground. Then without even taking a moment to clean the arrow, she slotted it into the bow and walked along the edge of the lake. I watched her as she scanned the water, walking slowly and quietly in the sand. She truly was meant to be a hunter as she had already insisted.

  I started breaking the limbs into smaller portions and then stacked them up into a nice little pile. I completely missed the moment she secured us another fish. By the time I had heard something, she already had the arrow back in her hand with a live fish this time stuck on the end. Its tail was moving while it opened its wide mouth trying to breathe.

  “Did you want to try starting the fire this time?” she asked, releasing the fish from the arrow, “Actually, I’d better do it since the wood may be a little damp.”

  She not only started a nice fire, but then she proceeded to gut and prepare the fish. I asked her to teach me how to do this so I could be of assistance next time. She took her time doing this somewhat disgusting act and I made sure to keep mental notes of every step. She then accepted my offer of a frying pan when the fish were ready for cooking. Less than an hour after arriving at the lake, we were sitting on the beach eating some delicious fried fish.

  A dragonfly was showing a lot of interest in me as it continued to hover near my head. Wildwood found this particularly funny as we tried to eat in peace. I didn’t swat it away since it kept that beautiful smile on her face.

  “Do you think it’s really possible that I’ll be able to do all the amazing things that you do someday?” I asked, sending a chunk of white fish into my mouth, “I mean, I’m going to have to survive in this world for the rest of my life and I’m not going to always have ammunition for my shotgun or the Glock.”

  “So, you’re talking about learning to hunt with a bow?” she asked, “I can teach you.”

  “Not just that. I should learn to make a bow and even how make an arrowhead and how to attach it to the shaft. I need to learn to turn a deer into clothing as well as dinner. I know pretty much nothing.”

  “We’ll make you a Shawnee before you know it,” she replied, leaning into me, “Have I told you lately how good you smell?”

  “Only about twenty times since we showered in the woods,” I replied sarcastically, “And you smell equally as delicious.”

  “Delicious,” she chuckled, “You’re such an unusual man, Maddox.”

  We finished our meal beneath the hot sun. We just sat there on the beach and enjoyed watching the mayflies and the water spiders tease the fish in the lake. Sometimes, the fish got what they wanted, but most times, they didn’t. A fox joined us, but never came w
ithin twenty yards. It looked like it wanted to come meet us, but its survival instinct got the best of him. After about a half an hour spying on us, it gave up and disappeared into the woods in the distance.

  I washed the frying pan in the lake and then rolled it up inside the blanket again. We had set everything out to dry in the sun, so the blanket was no longer soaked. Best of all, our socks and shoes had dried out in the hour or so we spent relaxing at the lake. By the time I guessed it to be around three or four in the afternoon, we were loaded up and on our way to the Portage.

  Wiikano

  The Portage, she explained to me, was the Shawnee name for the land between all the lakes that existed in a relatively small area. She said that there were about six large lakes, most of which weren’t connected by any waterways. This meant that if the Indians wanted to go from the nearest lake in the series to the furthest, there would be a few times that they may have to carry their canoes on their backs through a stretch of land. The act of carrying a canoe from one river or lake to another was called a portage. They called the land we were about to enter “The Portage” as a proper name.

  The lake we left wasn’t part of the Portage Lakes, but that was only because it was too relatively small and circular to welcome the necessity of a canoe. Anyone wanting to get to the other side could just walk around the lake in under a half an hour. Each of the Portage Lakes, Wildwood said, were enormous and very random in shape. One of them resembled a turkey’s foot which meant to me that it had long toes going off in random directions.

  She educated me in all this as we continued onward. The journey seemed never-ending as the miles and the hours passed. We stopped only once in order to pick some blackberries and even then, we ate them as we continued walking.

  It was nearly nightfall when we finally located a spot to rest for the night. For the last half hour of our journey, we had been following a creek that carved some nice features into the stone and clay. It was along this same creek that we found a nice little shelf that had been carved by the sharp curve of the creek. River bends were popular areas to find naturally carved shelves or caves and in this case, Wildwood found us a nice shelf.