by Kim Murphy
With a nod, I opened the door and stepped inside.
“Lee?” Shae stood by the desk.
I approached her. “Phoebe and Heather have joined me in the seventeenth century.”
“I see. So this is a final goodbye.”
“I suspect so.”
“And the skeleton?”
“It wasn’t me.” She released a noticeable breath. “It was my father, and with the help of my family, I buried him. I barely had the chance to get to know him.”
“That must have been difficult for you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I appreciate the condolences, but I’ve got the rest of my family to help me through it.”
“I’ll miss you and Phoebe.”
This time I was not tempted to spar with her to lighten the mood. “I’ll miss you too.” As I gazed upon her face, I realized I would most likely never see her again. “Thank you—for everything.”
She forced a smile. “You’re welcome.”
An awkward silence descended between us. “I should be going,” I said.
As I turned, Shae called after me. “Lee! You were my first love too.”
Recalling the night she had asked me for a divorce, I faced her once more. “You were right. We were mismatched.”
“At the time, I could have never known the real reason why.”
“Neither of us could have.” Crow cawed, signaling our time had come to an end. “I have to leave now.”
Shae came around the desk and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Lee.”
“Bye, Shae.” As I walked toward the door, I couldn’t look back. That chapter of my life had ended. If I gazed over my shoulder for one last look, I would be afraid to let go. Outside the door, I met Phoebe. I held her hand, and the mist captured us.
Out of the fog came a woman with her black hair tied back in a single long braid. Beside her stood a warrior with an uncanny resemblance to me. My parents looked the same as they had when I was two. There was so much I wanted to say to both of them, but no words came out. With a knowing smile, Black Owl glanced at Snow Bird, and they vanished. I found myself sitting in the woods next to Phoebe. On the wind, voices whispered through the trees. I could hear them loud and clear. They were my family—and ancestors—for I was on former Paspahegh land. I looked to Phoebe. “I can hear them.”
“Aye, you have become part of them.”
“Our decision to return to the Appamattuck and Sekakawon is the correct one. I must learn all that I can.”
She smiled at my words.
“When the time is right, I’ll become a liaison between the tribes and colonists. I have no idea if the future can be changed, but I must try to save my people.”
Phoebe reached a hand to my face. “I’m pleased.”
At that moment, I knew my parents were proud of my decision. At long last I had reclaimed my heritage, for I am Paspahegh, the last of my tribe.
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Author’s Note
As in the first book of The Dreaming series, Walks Through Mist, the dreaming is not meant to represent the belief system of the Virginia Algonquian-speaking people, who were composed of approximately thirty tribes commonly referred to as the Powhatan. Lee was taught the world of the dreaming by Phoebe, an English cunning woman. The cunning folk were the healers of society, using herbs and magic during the seventeenth century, and often had familiar or guardian spirits. At the same time, I firmly believe that the spirituality of the Native people would have equipped them to understand the concept of the dreaming and to most likely embrace it.
Compared to earlier seventeenth-century archives, records for Virginia in the 1640s are sparse. As a result, I took some liberties and interpreted the available records as best as I could. Paramount chief Opechancanough organized an attack on the colonists on April 18, 1644, twenty-two years after the first raid. As in the 1622 attack, approximately four hundred colonists were killed. However, unlike in the previous attack, the slain were a significantly smaller segment of the population.
Even fewer records survive about the Virginia Indians than those of the colonists. As in my research for Walks Through Mist, I have read as much as possible on the tribal people from period-biased sources, plus archaeological and contemporary sources, to try to recreate some semblance of their daily lives. Even so, gaping holes exist. The scenes depicted are entirely my own interpretations. For many scenes, I have also drawn from texts about similar tribes.
The first known successful blood transfusions took place during the seventeenth century. As might be guessed in light of the prevailing knowledge of the time period, there were many disasters along with the successes. Scientists of the time went so far as transfusing animal blood to humans. After a number of deaths resulting from such experimentation, the French and English parliaments, as well as the Vatican, banned transfusions. Their experiments gave me information on the techniques of the time period and allowed me to pose the “what if” for a successful transfusion with the help of twenty-first-century knowledge.
On more than one occasion, I have portrayed scalping. In Walks Through Mist, only the English were shown as scalpers. Many myths surround the act of scalping. Some argue the colonists brought scalping from Europe and introduced it to the indigenous populations. While it is true that some Europeans in the past had taken scalps, in 1607 at Jamestown, the English were more in the habit of beheading. Several written records exist that suggest some of the Powhatan people did indeed scalp at the time of settlement. However, those records by themselves are inconclusive as to who actually started scalping first.
Archaeological evidence indicates that some indigenous people did scalp in the pre-contact era. Also, the major European languages did not have a term for the action until colonists arrived on North America’s shores. When the Europeans first arrived in the sixteenth century, they noted that certain tribes scalped enemy warriors. What’s often overlooked in the literature is that not all tribes scalped. In fact, some authorities claim that the majority of tribes did not scalp.
Although the historical record seems to verify that Europeans did not originate the act of scalping, they quickly discovered it was much easier than beheading. For tribes that participated in scalping, the general idea behind the act was that a scalp lock symbolized a warrior’s life force. Generally a scalp lock was regarded as more than a trophy of war. Not only did an enemy’s scalp prove that a warrior was brave in taking casualties, but it was part of the soul or life force. To lose one’s scalp to an enemy meant that one became spiritually dead, even if not biologically. Furthermore, scalping did not appear to be very common until metal knives and firearms were introduced. English settlers adopted scalping as a retaliatory measure and began paying bounties for scalps.
In Walks Through Mist I had chosen a crow to guide Lee because in many Native American cultures, the bird is a shape shifter. I do not know if such a belief is held among the Algonquian-speaking people, but it fit my plot purpose. Shape shifters are regarded as masters of illusion, beings that can transform themselves and travel through many realms, including between the physical and spiritual worlds. Crows have been known to protect humans who feed them by dive-bombing a nearby threat in the same manner as crows will harass hawks. They have also been observed holding rather complex “funerals.” After getting to know my own local crow population, I have discovered the intelligence of this bird. Because it is Lee’s guardian spirit, I felt it would behave in the protective and respectful manner that I have portrayed.
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Acknowledgments
A special thank you goes to my editors, K.A. Corlett, S
arah Grey, and Catherine Karp, and my cover designer, Roberta Marley. And of course, I wish to thank my family: my son, Bryan, and especially my husband, Pat; both are now hopeful that my retreat through the centuries has stabilized, and that I may eventually rejoin the twenty-first century.
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