It seemed so fantastic, she wondered if the event was just a figment of her imagination.
Yes, that’s what it was, she told herself. It hadn’t been real at all.
She had imagined seeing the mist. Probably, she was so anxious about the poison ivy making her ill that her mind was playing tricks on her.
Trembling, unable to truly make herself believe that what she had seen had not been real, she hurried on into the village and went to the tepee where she had been staying.
Once inside, she hurried over to what was left of the fire. She was cold inside and out from everything that had just happened to her.
And she was so afraid of how sick she might become from the poison ivy, she wasn’t sure what to do.
She hated the idea of asking the aid of an Indian Shaman. She wouldn’t do it until she knew that she must. She would wait and see how bad the poison ivy got.
She jerked with alarm when Wolf Hawk came suddenly into the tepee.
She turned slowly and gazed into his eyes, seeing that he knew something was wrong. There was a questioning look on his face.
Wolf Hawk saw how Mia was trembling, and he saw telltale signs that she had been in the forest, for there were pieces of grass and leaves snagged on the skirt of her dress.
He again gazed deeply into her eyes. He knew now that while he was gone she had decided to go into the forest, but why?
Had she planned to flee, yet changed her mind? Had something frightened her into returning to the safety of his people’s village?
Needing answers, he stepped closer to her and reached a hand out for her.
When she winced and drew quickly away from him, with a look of fear in her eyes, he was stunned.
“Why are you behaving so strangely?” he asked, searching her face. “You are trembling, yet the lodge is not cold. Are you ill?”
She shoved him away.
“Why would you do that?” he asked, taking a step back.
He knew that something was terribly wrong and yet she would not confide in him what it was.
“Please leave me alone,” Mia blurted out. In her mind’s eye she again saw the mist, and Wolf Hawk appearing out of thin air.
In her mind’s eye she also saw the poison ivy reaching out for her like devil fingers, ready to kill her if it could!
“You wish to be alone…you shall get that wish,” Wolf Hawk said tightly, then turned and left. The clean, fresh smell of his hair and his body wafted through the air behind him. Mia inhaled it and imagined him, holding her, embracing her, loving her.
Tears filled her eyes.
She fell to her knees beside the fire and held her face in her hands.
Suddenly everything was so confusing. She feared what tomorrow would bring.
Chapter Seventeen
I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shoulds’t thou have mine?
—Sir John Suckling
Even before she was awake, Mia groaned with discomfort. Then she opened her eyes and cried out in despair when she saw just how bad her poison ivy was.
She threw aside the blanket she had slept under. It felt damp and clammy.
She sat up and gasped. By the moonlight that came down from the smoke hole above, she saw just how bad the poison ivy on her legs was. They were swollen to twice their normal size, and the itching sores were seeping fluid, which had gotten the blanket wet.
“Oh, what am I to do?” she cried softly.
She knew that if the poison ivy wasn’t medicated soon, and in the right way, she might even lose her legs. A friend of her father had gotten poison ivy and lost an arm because of it, mainly because he had not taken it seriously enough to go to a doctor when he should have.
But Mia had no idea where the nearest town might be or if it even had a doctor who could help her.
The itching and hurting was almost driving her wild, yet she knew that scratching the rash would only make it worse. Mia lay back down and sobbed so hard, her body shook.
When Wolf Hawk spoke her name outside the closed entrance flap, her eyes widened.
She hadn’t seen him since she had asked him to leave her tepee.
“Come in,” she said weakly.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the palm of a hand.
She gazed again at her seeping legs, which she just could not cover again with a blanket. It would cause her even more pain if the blanket were to make contact with her sores.
She then looked up at Wolf Hawk as he came into the tepee with a tray of food for her dinner.
When he saw her and how ill she was from the poison ivy, he almost dropped the tray in shock.
He knew what was ailing her.
He had seen this kind of rash before on the legs of the children who had gone farther into the forest than was usually allowed and got entangled in the poison vine. Some of them had become very ill because of it.
They had even lost one child whose body had been too weak to fight off the horrible effects of the poison vine. Even his grandfather Shaman had not been able to stop the child from dying.
He looked more closely at Mia’s legs, worried when he saw just how badly she was afflicted by the poison of the vine. Were she to die, he would always blame himself for having brought her to his village. Why had she felt the need to flee his people even though she had not been mistreated?
But he understood. She saw herself as a captive, and the very word was enough to send dread into anyone’s heart.
He wished now that he had told her he saw her not as a captive, but instead as a woman he had deep feelings for.
And now?
No sooner had he found a woman who affected his heart in such a sensuous way, than he feared he might lose her.
“I must get you to Shadow Island,” he exclaimed, already setting the tray on the floor. “Now. Not later.”
“Shadow Island?” Mia asked meekly, still nervous of Wolf Hawk after seeing him appear in such a mysterious way yesterday.
But she couldn’t ask him about what she had seen. She was afraid of what his reaction would be.
“Shadow Island is where my grandfather Shaman lives,” Wolf Hawk said.
He bent to his knees to sweep her into his arms, then stopped. He had never taken a white person to Shadow Island before, but now he must. He knew that he must get Mia to his grandfather and ask Talking Bird to use his magic cures on her. The woman was so ill. Talking Bird was her only chance of surviving this horrible sickness.
And Wolf Hawk was desperate for her to survive. He cared deeply for her.
He had hoped she would want to stay at his village, not flee from it, as he now knew she had tried to do yesterday. After she had asked him to leave the tepee, he had followed her tracks far from his village and straight into the poison vine area.
He knew that was why she had returned. She had surely had experience with the poison vine before and knew that she would have a bad reaction to it.
She had actually returned to plea for help; his.
“You are so kind to do this for me,” Mia murmured as she felt his powerful arms lift her up.
“My grandfather knows all things,” Wolf Hawk said as he carried her from the tepee, ignoring the surprised looks of his people, and hurried toward his canoe.
He would have preferred to fly her over to the island, but knew that seeing him in hawk form would terrify her. No. He had to keep her from discovering his mystical abilities.
He gazed into her eyes as she looked up at him while he gently laid her in the canoe. “My grandfather will make you well,” he said, searching her eyes. He was glad to see trust in them. But there was something else, too. It was a look of wonder, as though she knew something that he didn’t.
He was curious what that look meant, but he had no time to dwell on it now. He had to focus on getting her well. He did not want to lose her after having just found and falle
n in love with her.
He had been attracted to many women of his tribe, yet none had spoken to his heart as had this woman.
He did not want to believe that his people would shun him were he to announce his feelings for this white woman. They knew him well and understood that he always acted out of the goodness of his heart.
Mia lay on the floor of the canoe as Wolf Hawk shoved it out into the water, then climbed aboard himself.
She began shivering, both from a fever that had just claimed her, and fear of what lay ahead. In the river she could see a small island that was partly obscured by mist.
Although her flesh was hot, she shivered with a chill that made her teeth chatter.
Aware that Mia was growing worse, Wolf Hawk drew the paddle more determinedly through the water, his eyes now focused on the island.
As it grew closer, he began to wonder what his grandfather would think about his bringing a white woman to Shadow Island. Never had he treated anyone with white skin before.
Would he think it wrong of Wolf Hawk to ask this of him? Or would he understand the feelings that Wolf Hawk had for the woman?
Almost delirious now with her fever, Mia whispered, “Papa…Mama…I shall soon join you.”
Chapter Eigh teen
The locked drops rising in a dew
Limpid as spirits.
Many stones lay dense and expressionless,
Round about.
I didn’t know what to make of it!
—Sylvia Plath
As Wolf Hawk made his way toward Shadow Island, Mia subsided into a semiconscious state.
The splash of the water from his paddle made her believe that she was on the river with her family again, in their scow, happy and laughing together before her father’s heart had become a problem and before Mia had grown tired of river travel.
The rocking of the boat lulled her into wonderful memories of being with her parents again, while occasional drops of water against her fevered brow felt cool and refreshing.
If she listened hard enough, she could actually hear her mother’s sweet laughter and her father tapping his pipe empty of tobacco against the sides of the scow after finishing a lengthy smoke.
She could even smell the distinctive scent of of the tobacco he had used. It always reminded her of sweet apples in the autumn.
“We are at the island now,” Wolf Hawk said, breaking into Mia’s memories.
She opened her eyes, but she could barely see Wolf Hawk as he leapt over the side of the canoe. He waded through the shallow water, shoving the canoe onto the sandy shore.
He came to her and gazed into her eyes, concerned when he saw how bloodshot they were, and that she seemed hardly able to keep them open.
“You are going to be alright,” Wolf Hawk quickly reassured her. He reached a gentle hand to her hot cheek, where her flesh was free of the terrible rash. “My grandfather Shaman will make it so.”
“I…I…have never been…this…ill,” Mia managed to say.
She was fighting to stay conscious. She wanted to be awake when the Shaman began working his magic on her. She wanted to be aware of what he did.
Although she trusted Wolf Hawk with every fiber of her being now, she still recalled how she had heard men laughing and calling Indian Shamans witch doctors who practiced voodoo on their people when they were ill.
“You will soon be well,” Wolf Hawk said, gently lifting her from the canoe.
He was Mia’s protector now, and he would make certain she allowed him to be the one who looked out for her and keep her safe from all harm, forevermore.
Mia drifted in and out of consciousness, but she was aware of Wolf Hawk’s muscled arms as he lifted her gently from the canoe.
She was aware, too, that he was not walking as he carried her to his grandfather’s home, but running. She knew that he was truly concerned about her, and wanted to get her help as soon as possible.
She could not help loving him for that. And as he carried her through a grove of wolf willows, which glowed eerily in the moonlight as a slow fog came creeping upon the land, she began to feel more comfortable about what was happening.
She did trust Wolf Hawk.
And she knew that whatever his grandfather Shaman might do in his effort to make her well, she would accept it.
At this moment in time, she had only Wolf Hawk as her protector. She now trusted him implicitly.
“Do not be afraid,” Wolf Hawk said, knowing that all of this must be so strange to her. But this visit was completely necessary. If his grandfather did not use his magical cures on Mia, she might not live for many more tomorrows, and he wanted her with him forever, not only for a few more feverish days.
“I suddenly feel no fear,” Mia murmured, then licked her dry, parched lips. “I…I…want to be well, Wolf Hawk.”
“And you will be,” Wolf Hawk replied.
He emerged on the other side of the wolf willows and now headed directly toward his grandfather’s large tepee, which cast a huge shadow all around it as it sat in the bright moonlight.
“Mia, I promise that you will be well,” Wolf Hawk again reassured her. “Soon.”
“I…trust…you,” Mia murmured. She again licked her parched lips. “I…even trust…your grandfather because he is your kin.”
“Mia, you need trust and faith now more than ever before. You must feel both for my grandfather’s magic to work on you,” Wolf Hawk said, stopping right outside his grandfather’s closed entrance flap.
“Magic?” Mia said, her eyes widening. “He is going to use magic to make me well?”
“Do not let that word bring fear back into your heart,” Wolf Hawk said thickly. “Just think good things and good things will happen to you.”
“I will,” Mia said, watching now as Wolf Hawk spoke his grandfather’s name.
Scarcely breathing, she waited and watched for the entrance flap to be drawn aside. When it was, she found herself gazing at the oldest person she had ever seen. The Shaman stood there in what looked like a bearskin robe, his gray hair worn in one long braid down his back.
He was a tiny man, much shorter than his grandson Wolf Hawk. He seemed to have shrunk from old age, and his face was furrowed with many wrinkles.
But in the moon’s glow she saw eyes that did not show any signs of age. Instead they were dark and brilliant.
And as she gazed into them, she saw kindness, even wisdom. She felt that she was right not to fear him.
“Grandfather, this woman is in need of your curative powers,” Wolf Hawk said, realizing immediately that his grandfather was hesitant to ask him and Mia into his lodge.
He understood.
No whites had ever been on this island, nor even in their village, which had purposely been established far from any white man’s home.
And now? His grandson had actually brought one of the white eyes to his private island?
Ho, Yes, Wolf Hawk understood his grandfather’s hesitance. But for the first time in his life, Wolf Hawk would prove his grandfather wrong about something.
He must, for the life of this woman Wolf Hawk cared so deeply for lay in the balance.
“Grandfather, this is a friend and she is in need of your help,” Wolf Hawk said thickly.
“She is white,” Talking Bird said flatly. “Her skin is the color of our enemy’s.”
“Although her skin is white, she is special to me,” Wolf Hawk admitted. “And she is not our enemy. She is a friend, a friend who seeks help from someone who has the power to heal her.”
Talking Bird continued to stand in his doorway, blocking Wolf Hawk’s entrance into his medicine lodge.
Slowly Wolf Hawk lowered Mia to the ground, laying her on a thick bed of moss that stretched out, like soft silk, around his grandfather’s lodge. It had been purposely removed from the forest floor and planted there by Wolf Hawk for his grandfather’s comfort.
Wolf Hawk gazed up at his grandfather. “I will show you,” he said thickly.
Then Wolf Hawk gazed into Mia’s eyes, which were once again filled with fear at the way she had been received by Wolf Hawk’s Shaman grandfather.
She was white. She had a reason to be afraid.
It was up to Wolf Hawk to make both his grandfather and his woman feel more comfortable with each other so that Mia could be healed.
Wolf Hawk slowly lifted the hem of her dress to reveal Mia’s swollen, seeping legs to his grandfather. “She found herself in the midst of poison vine and she is now ill from her reaction to it,” he said, again gazing up at his grandfather.
He exhaled with relief when he saw the caring in his grandfather’s eyes that Wolf Hawk was accustomed to.
His grandfather understood the urgency of Mia’s condition. He would treat her, even though her skin was white. Wolf Hawk had been sure his grandfather would never have turned away someone who so desperately needed his help.
Talking Bird stepped aside and held the flap open so Wolf Hawk could enter. “Go inside,” he said, his voice filled with true concern. “Take her with you. I will do what I can for the woman.”
Mia sighed with relief.
She smiled up at the elderly man.
“Thank you,” she murmured, oh, so glad that these Winnebago Indians knew the English language as well as they did. It made things much easier for her. “Thank you so much.”
“My name is Talking Bird,” the Shaman said, gently smiling now at Mia. “By what name are you called?”
“Mia,” she murmured.
She felt again the wonder of Wolf Hawk’s muscled arms as he swept her up from the beautifully soft moss.
She lay there trustingly in his arms as he carried her inside. Talking Bird followed and gestured with a frail hand toward several pelts that were spread out on the floor near the fire.
“I will see her better beside the fire,” Talking Bird said. He gazed up at the smoke hole overhead, glad that the moon was as bright tonight as it was, for it, too, lent him more light by which to work his magic.
Wolf Hawk very gently laid Mia on the pelts, then stood back and rested himself on his haunches as his grandfather approached Mia and examined her legs more closely.
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