Death Chant

by Vella Munn

  “You believe you hear a wolf?”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  Jay’s tone pulled her from the unseen creature. He’d stood. She couldn’t see his expression. Unless she was mistaken, he’d fisted his hands. His legs were widely spread, his spine rigid, head cocked.

  Their conversation hadn’t disturbed the wolf. If anything, its howls were lasting longer and seemed to be coming from deeper in its chest.

  “This isn’t the first time today,” she admitted, almost unwilling to mar the sound with her own voice. “Earlier, right after I found Doc’s body.”

  “No,” he muttered. “Did you see anything?”

  The mournful howl spun around her. “I can’t believe— Are you sure—?”

  “You’re still hearing it? There’s only one wolf?”

  It wasn’t possible. He had to hear what she was. “Yes.” She pressed a chilled hand to her forehead. “Don’t make fun of me, Jay. I can’t handle it.”

  “I’m not.”

  Watching Jay step around his sleeping bag and head for her shifted her focus from the howl to the shadowy ranger. When he was only a couple of feet away, he extended his arms. Not questioning what she was doing, she did the same. After lacing his fingers through hers, he drew her to his side.

  She wanted to say something, to tell him about what she’d seen earlier and insist he acknowledge they were experiencing the same thing, but she couldn’t. Olympic National Park at night was different from what she’d seen when she’d first entered it. It seemed to be sucking her into the cloistered space. Much longer and she’d no longer feel separate from it. Only Jay’s presence might keep that from happening.

  “You’re certain you’ve only been to this part of the country once?” he asked.

  “As far as I know. Why?”

  Judging by how he was tightening and lessening his hold, she wasn’t sure he was aware of what he was doing.

  “What do you mean, as far as you know?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, although it did.

  “How much have you studied our people’s spiritual beliefs?”

  Our. A lifetime of feeling held apart from what her nationality represented threatened to overwhelm her. She blinked back tears she prayed he couldn’t see.

  “As much as possible. What ancient Native Americans felt and believed couldn’t be charted like their tools, weapons and housing. Early explorers wrote about what they saw. We’ll never know how much tribal members were willing to share about their spirituality.”

  “I grew up seeing myself first and foremost as a Hoh. I was a teenager before I began to grasp that there was more to life than what I’d experienced.”

  She wasn’t sure what point, if any, Jay was trying to make. “From earliest times,” he said, “the Northwest tribes relied on their spirit helpers so they could survive a sometimes dangerous existence. Because men did most of the hunting and fighting, a close relationship with their spirit guides was essential. My uncle never makes important decisions without asking his spirit for guidance. Almost every Hoh of his generation does.”

  The howling had faded away while Jay was talking, but even if it hadn’t, what Jay was telling her was more important. As a child, she’d believed that her wolf dreams served as proof that Wolf was her protector. Then she’d grown up, and the dreams had stopped. She’d moved beyond imaginary friends.

  How then could she explain today’s wolf?

  “How about you?” she finally thought to ask. “Do you share your uncle’s belief?”

  “I’m glad he has what he does.” His hold on her hand tightened until she had to fight the urge to pull free. “I’m going to throw something out. You can call me crazy, but I believe you need to hear this.”

  Jay Raven felt vulnerable. She sensed his reluctance to expose himself in every inch of the body so close to hers. “I thought you might call me crazy,” she told him. “Maybe there’s no wolf out there. Maybe I thought I heard something because I’ve been kicked in the gut.”

  “No.” He pulled her around so they stood face to face. She still couldn’t make out his features. “Tonight, Wolf exists for you. That’s all that matters.”

  “The way you said wolf… Are you saying it’s more than flesh and blood?”

  He let go of her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “What do you think?”

  Chapter Seven

  Instead of continuing his explanation that the wolf—Wolf—was supernatural, Jay headed to where Doc’s body lay. She didn’t want to focus on what he was doing, but that was easier than comprehending what he’d handed her with a few words. Jay had said Wolf existed.

  Pieces of her dream swirled around her until she was convinced the change from desert to forest represented her journey here. Just before Jay had woken her, the wolf of her childhood had found her, only it was no longer part of a lonely girl’s fantasy. It had become Wolf.

  Where are you taking me? Where are we going?

  Wolf hadn’t answered.

  The man sharing the night with her turned off his flashlight. “He’s all right,” he said.

  “Thank you for doing that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jay Raven was caring and compassionate. Whatever else he might be, she’d never forget that. “What was growing up on a reservation like?” she asked as he went back to his sleeping bag. She’d consider Wolf when she felt stronger. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Early on, my mother taught Floyd and me at home. The bus ride into Forks was about an hour each direction. Then, when our parents died, we went to live with Uncle Talio. Despite how important tradition is to him, he decided we needed to go to public school.”

  “Integrate?”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal. A lot of the students are Native American.”

  “What happened to your parents?”

  His sleeping bag made a rustling sound. She wasn’t sure but thought he was propped up on an elbow looking at her.

  “Pneumonia. Both of them.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

  “It didn’t have to happen.” He sounded bitter. “If they’d gotten decent medical care—unless you’ve lived on the reservation, you can’t grasp how inadequate certain services are there. It was worse years ago. We get the services of a doctor, dentist and nurse practitioner one day a week at the health station in Queets. There’s a health center in Taholah. Neither of those places qualify as a town. My parents couldn’t afford to go the hospital in Forks. By the time the rest of the family realized how sick they were, it was too late.”

  Had Jay watched his parents die? Maybe he’d taken take care of them. Just considering how helpless he must have felt made her heart go out to him.

  “I love my uncle,” he said. “I’m doing what I can. He isn’t getting the physical therapy he could if he lived closer to civilization.” He laughed, without warmth. “They say kids are stubborn, but they don’t have anything on the older generation. Are your grandparents alive?”

  I don’t know. My parents, either. “What was the best part about being raised by your uncle?” she asked, hoping to shift the topic a little.

  “The ceremonies,” he said without hesitation. “Everyone made a big deal out of them. My brother and I would sit on logs around the campfire with the other kids while the elders conducted the rituals. Floyd got restless, but as soon as the drumming started, I lost myself in the sound and what it stood for. I understood it was more than entertainment. It was special.”

  She’d attended Native American spiritual ceremonies but had always felt like an outsider. As a result of her education, she’d come to see Native life as something to quantify and qualify, conclusions arrived at, oral histories dissected. The more she concentrated on documenting what ancient Native life had once been like, the less she had to face how little she understood about her place in it.

  Now, as Jay spoke of dancers dressed as deer, elk, mountain lions, grizzlies and
wolves, she imagined she could smell the wet forest and wood smoke that were part of those ceremonies. Drumming vibrated through her. Prayers chanted by spiritual leaders gave men and women the strength and courage to face an uncertain future. Imagining an infant’s cry, she watched as the little one’s mother offered her breast to him. Dark-skinned children that existed in her mind squirmed only to be quieted by grandmothers. The dress she’d worn for the occasion was made of softened cedar bark and rustled every time she changed position.

  “The dancers carried lances, knives, and bows and arrows for the spirits to bless,” Jay continued. “A dancer might fall silent or wander into the forest because his spirit had taken hold of him.”

  “Do you have a spirit? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He sucked in a loud breath. “Most outsiders consider them part of an ignorant people’s superstition.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. Not after—after Wolf.”

  “Wolf. Yes, Wolf. But before?”

  What do you want from me? “I’m an academician. It’s my job to document as much of a culture as possible.”

  “But not to live it.”

  Belatedly, she realized what Jay was getting at. Their day jobs kept them grounded in the modern world, but he had been brought up surrounded by his heritage. The past was part of his today. At least, it had been when he was a child.

  In stark contrast to his rich upbringing, she’d had nothing.

  Maybe Wolf read her thoughts and had decided to push her to the edge. That was what she pondered as another haunting howl began. Her flesh felt scraped. She sighed.

  “Wolf again?”

  “Yes.” This time, she didn’t ask whether he heard it.

  “Are you afraid of it?”

  “No. Everything I learned about wolf spirits—many of the tribes saw them as hunters. I’ve never hunted or wanted to.”

  “Here we also see them as guardians.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Maybe that’s because it isn’t in your textbooks.”

  She’d unwittingly backed herself into a corner, revealed some of her holes. “I get it. You’re saying there’s a hell of a difference between studying a culture and living it.”

  “What I’m saying is you can’t take what my people are and shove that into a text. Considering your ethnicity, I’d think you’d grasp that.”

  I’m nothing. Don’t you get it? I’m nothing. “I’m trying.”

  “Dr. Gilsdorf wanted to put us under a microscope, plug what we stood for into a neat cubbyhole.”

  “I can’t believe he’d do that. Even if he did, I’m not him.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  Neither of them spoke. She didn’t want to fight with the man who stood between her and the wonder of tonight. She wished he could hear Wolf.

  “Please, if you don’t mind, I’d like to learn more about what Wolf means to the Hoh. Wolf—he wants to tell me something. I can’t figure it out on my own.”

  “My uncle can explain it better,” he said after a too-long silence. “What I heard growing up was that a hunter who has a wolf spirit will live a long and successful life. If his village is attacked, his weapons will find their mark. When I went on my spirit journey, I prayed Wolf would embrace me.”

  The first time she’d seen Jay Raven, she’d seen a modern man, a product of today. It was no longer that simple.

  “I walked, prayed and fasted for three days and nights. On the morning of the fourth day, I woke to see a raven standing a few feet away.”

  “Thank you for telling me that.”

  “I’m surprised I did.”

  She’d thought tonight would be about her, that she wouldn’t be able to rise above her grief, but Jay had given her a piece of his heart, and she felt blessed. Overwhelmed. “Raven… What…became part of you?”

  “No.” Jay paused. “I was a teenager at the time. Uncle Talio warned that I was too young and a spirit wouldn’t embrace me until I’d proven myself as a man. I was doing the teenage rebellion thing, wanting to show how tough I was. At the same time, I needed something to believe in. It was just a raven, my namesake, not a spirit.”

  Are you sure? “Did you go on another search?”

  “Yes, not that it made a difference.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m surprised my uncle didn’t kick me out. All that youthful rebellion—I wanted to hang out with my friends, not attend rituals. You did the same thing, right?”

  “Right.” Only for her, surviving while living on the streets had taken priority.

  “After high school, I looked at my options and came to the conclusion I wouldn’t have any if I stayed here.”

  “How did your uncle feel about that?”

  “He wasn’t happy, but by then Floyd had discovered alcohol, and dealing with that took a lot of his time and emotions. Besides, Uncle Talio had considered himself an adult when he was the same age so he understood where I was coming from. I started logging, moved to Forks and lived there for a couple of years. It didn’t take me long to realize logging was dangerous, but without an education, my options were limited.”

  “You have a degree?”

  “A bachelor’s in biology. I went to college in Seattle then transferred to the University of Oregon because I thought I was in love.”

  Jay had a right to be in love. Why, then, didn’t she want to hear that? “Oh.”

  “Haven’t we all? Are you married?”

  She’d never come close, because the idea of sharing her sheets and life with another person scared her. Having sex was great, but it just wasn’t enough of a trade-off for the lack of privacy. “No. Are you?”

  “I was. It didn’t last.”

  “Children?”

  “No.”

  But he wanted to be a father. His tone gave him away. She’d gotten pregnant once, only to miscarry when she was three months along. The pain of that loss still hurt.

  “It’s a good thing you’re here,” she said. “I couldn’t leave Doc. But being alone—that would have been difficult.”

  “Fortunately, it didn’t get to that point.”

  She was still debating what to say when he again got out of his sleeping bag and stood. “Are you still hearing Wolf?” he asked.

  How could she have forgotten? She concentrated but heard only the forest’s night sounds. “No. Where does a spirit go when it isn’t—I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Instead of responding, Jay slipped into the forest. He wasn’t heading in the direction of Doc’s body.

  He’d left her, and she was alone. Tangled in a million thoughts and emotions.

  * * * *

  Jay didn’t go far. Because he was barefoot, he stopped as soon as the woods surrounded him. Fingers clenched, he stared up at the stars. Even with a ravaged body not far away, the dark didn’t bother him. Visitors had sometimes asked whether being alone in Olympic ever spooked him. In the beginning, he’d explained about his upbringing, but these days, he simply shrugged and indicated his radio.

  He’d had no intention of telling Winter about his vision quest. Granted, he’d barely touched on his less than successful attempt to connect with a spirit guide, but it still surprised him. What he hadn’t admitted was that Raven, if the bird had been his spirit, hadn’t stayed around. Several months later, he’d gone out on another vision quest which had been even less successful. Since returning to Olympic, he’d known better than to set himself up for more disappointment.

  Spirit helpers existed for those, like his uncle, whose lives revolved around tradition and heritage, not modern men like himself.

  Then how the hell did he explain Winter’s experience with Wolf?

  Maybe he’d been looking at this wrong. Grandparents Cave was about a half mile away. Instead of Wolf connecting with Winter, the spirit hoped to frighten her so she’d never want to return to the area.

  Weary of asking questions without answers, he retraced hi
s steps. Winter was standing near her sleeping bag, a slight form surrounded by the wilderness.

  She nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said.

  “Not without your shoes.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right, not without my shoes. Were you looking for Wolf?”

  “Don’t ask. Come morning, I might convince myself none of that happened.”

  I don’t think so. “Speaking of morning, have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

  “No.”

  “You should.”

  “I guess.” She settled cross-legged on top of her sleeping bag. “Who’s coming here? How are murder investigations in the park handled?”

  “I don’t recall if there’s ever been another. We have a number of law enforcement- trained rangers, including a couple who could be considered detectives.”

  “Guess I need to talk to them. Tell them what I saw.”

  She hadn’t seen anything he hadn’t, but she was right. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to be a vital part of the investigation. Eventually, her role would be over, and she’d go back to where she’d come from and resume her life.

  “You mentioned you wanted to tell Dr. Gilsdorf’s son, but you can let someone here contact the university.”

  “I need to personally talk to Dr. Wilheim.”

  “You believe he might take Dr. Gilsdorf’s place?”

  “I’m sure he’ll insist on it.”

  He wondered if it had occurred to her that the Natives might use Dr. Gilsdorf’s murder as ammunition in trying to get the study shut down. When Dr. Gilsdorf had initially contacted the Hoh and other tribes, no one had been particularly concerned that he could accomplish anything without assistance. That mindset had changed once they’d realized the professor was concentrating on the Ghost Totem Ridge area.

  Maybe one or more tribal members had done more than resent Dr. Gilsdorf’s presence. Maybe that person or persons had put an end to the threat he presented.