Spirits of the Wildflowers

by Parris Match

  Dacoh and his fragrant coveted vessel settled into a sheltered snug recess, closely lodged in a clutch of boulders, for the night. They should set off on the remaining portion of their journey, earlier than the hazy dawns first light; for the entire daytime, from before dawn to the interlude of the roseate overlay of dusk, a rigorous demanding continuous effort was necessary, with his added burden, to cross the wide undulating desert, before the next last higher suspended receding golden light over the dark cover of nightfall.

  Bending to provide a drink of water to his loosened pet possession, Dacoh crassly fondled the fawn’s prominent peaked breast; her revived mettle triggered a quick response to his smug assumption, a hard whack with her forearm against the side of his head. He reeled from the unexpected stinging resistance; but swiftly secured and tied her hands, then sensibly remembered the esteemed Ahcoo’ah’s instructions, on handling and taming his charge. A moment of dishonor flushed through him, he must never make this arrogant mistake again. Ahcooah had made it quite clear that; “a bitter vessel would produce a curdled son”. Dacoh closely wrapped the deerskin mantle around his desired captive; he intimately cuddled beside her agreeable aroma, yet slept fitfully into the night.

  Soon during the hours of glittering starlight above darkness, a chilled compelling downward current with blustery winds, emerged from the southeastern expanse of the desert basin; forcefully whipping-upon, pestering their stone protected defense; clumsily bearing an ending persistent odor of faraway burnt ashen sage and the pungent tars of smoky creosote, but they slept-on restlessly, through this unsung night.

  As Dacoh with his bundle quit the passage through the low rolling, brown and russet shade aspects soon to be golden/yellow, mountain range; to overlook the deserts pocked basins, as the peaking first lightbeam of the Sun, slowly revealed the slight yet gleaming craggy zeniths of his longed-for homeland, far distant towards the western horizon. His leaping heart was quickened by the assurance that he was within a closed grasp of their safe shelter and well-being. To cross over the barren desert, this second time, a shorter distance south of the gently sloping row of mountains; near yet far enough away to avoid frequently climbing the steeper protruding added spine ridges; however, to still feel safer close to the outer edge.

  Dacoh maintained an exacting strenuous pace across the desert landscape; winding within and around the eroded low hillocks, quickly passing over those few graveled mounds, when possible to keep his head-down on the shielding northern slopes, he raced with elongated strides to leave the land of the scurrying Rabbit People. To dart as an easily excitable, briefly-perched, blush-breasted like sparrow; Dacoh with his garnered sizeable piece of treasured thatch, would alight on a waxen-leafy small bough, for a short time and replenish their instinct to craft a nest, and then hastily flit and take swift flight, across the sparsely brush-wooded islands of the desert sea.

  This demanding vigorous ongoing burden was all that Dacoh could suffer to shoulder, his arms and legs weakened but his determination never wavered; as the young man rushed towards the chanting tenor/calling chorus of his spiritually cloaked beckoning valley. Each lengthened step beyond the terrible dreads negative clutch, every snatched furtive glance for the swarming scruffy enemy’s presence, the closer he came beyond the outer reaches of the countless wretched Rabbit People.

  At long last he distinguished the clean-blown habitat of the untested immaculate Spirits, by the not quite transparent surface currents of powdery fine sand, the temperate air rising and falling; the transient boundary of the ever shifting shadow-defined sand dunes, not far distant. The later day near even Sun light, outlining the soft pastel-yellow but radiant tones, to touch the pale purple and mauve crest of the familiar darkening cliffs, then to crown the three white-tipped cragged peaks, overseeing his home; still utmost, a full day’s journey, to the beautiful hidden valley of The Forgotten Ones.

  He made a very quick search for the stashed leatherngourd of water, he had previously buried on his quest for the river valley, but could not find its inversely hidden location; so Dacoh toting his captured treasure scurried for the reassuring, bare and yielding, winds banked re-forming, hillocks of mounded sand; before the pervasiveness of the approaching shadows, or the cooling low ground haze of the silent desert night, closed-in around them.

  Winding his way back into a clearly defined, wind current swept, passageway in the soft supple dunes, Dacoh stumbled upon a small cozy dimple in the blind curvature of a pliant and diverse pristine sandbank. Before the mellow yellow, translucent upper mantle, last subtle fringe of the Sun glow, disappeared from the tops of the whimsical dunes; where he and his pet would spend this peaceful night, is positioned so cupped, encased in podded safety, until the succeeding new light of dawn.

  Waking in the vacuous chill of the silence, under a limited blueskied morning, all signs of their arrival had been erased by the incessant voiceless whispered sighs of the teasing particulate breezes, mischievously frolicking amid the capricious but constant vaporous façade in time; those uncommitted animate neutral Spirits, or of the ever-changing sand dunes unsettled positions. Dacoh untied the captives hands and legs, flipped the deerskin cover back over her freed body, placed a water-bag beside her, arose to his feet, and stepped a reasonable distance away from his restricted purpose.

  To squat cross-legged in the middle of the unblemished sandy rift, Dacoh stared inquiringly at the girl as she hesitantly reached for the water and drank three full gulps, then hugging the deerskin cloak to herself, she stood. Looking over her shoulder at Dacoh, she cheekily threw open her covering and shook-out the collected blown sand from within, and then taking the scrunched furry pelt, she methodically brushed away the adhered grains of sand from every part of her lissome, scratched and abraded, naked tan complexion. As she removed the tacky sand, the furtive brazen fawn slyly glanced in each and every direction; an indiscernible arena of infertile sand encompassed her, not a plant, or a weed, nor a single blade of grass, or any range of flowers could exist here. The cold barren specters of isolation stared back at her, an absorbing vortex in space, the clear blue sky her only allusion; she was gently trapped in a dream, a morass of cream-colored intertwined sandy hillocks. No sure point of reference, no intent, no hope of escape, just this strange attractive man to be found, in the center of this emptiness.

  The proud young woman boldly looked back at her keeper, constricting hunger and necessity crimped her belly, she fully understood and knew her fate; Dacoh stood and stepped towards the new woman, she compliantly wrapped the deerskin around her shoulders and waited for her masters’ cue. Dacoh shook the quarter-full water-bag demonstrating the limits of its contents, hung the bag over her neck, removed a few pieces of dried venison pemmican from a pouch around his waist, and placed them in the maidens hand; turning, he walked away. Going a short distance, Dacoh stopped, turned his head back towards the pathetic, still so fixed in willful position, and staid to settle, enwrapped natty bundle. Four targeted black determined encountering eyes, pursed lips and serpentine constriction, searching for the compromise, questioning their willingness to concede; she in hesitance, acquiescently started to step in his direction, her small bare feet softly squished into the mornings cool compliant creamy sand.

  The newly enthused just unburdened Dacoh confidently marched through the awakened shimmering dunes, his captured submissive pet tagging closely behind; as the receding morning-light shadows, abandoned those barren and deserted ones, and the superficial attitudes of the shifting sand spirits, were invited to briefly dwell within the EarthSpirits’ inner soul. The yielding young woman shuffled easily along, hungrily nibbling at the dried meats and sipping on the lowering lessened amount of water that was available to her; inadvertently somewhat masking the clearly discernable footsteps, as a result of lightly skimming the moveable sand, with the straggling train of her clutched deerskin cloak.

  Tah then tamely obliged and scurried after her eager overseer. She was a lost insignificant child in an overwhelmin
g barrenness; her single choice was to follow this alluring man. His broad shoulders and powerful muscular well-rounded legs were her only focus as she kept a hurried pace behind him; efficiently gnawing and chewing away at the grateful tiny bits of dried meat, following her forced lengthy fast. Dacoh and Tah wandered their Sun biased way through the numerous mass of mounds of windblown easily changeable sand, finally reaching the furthermost settled side. Now familiar with the jaggedly hard rock strewn surface of this earlier found land, demanded that Dacoh resume his sensible duty. He lifted the compliant girl upon his shoulder and carried her swiftly towards the beckoning, gleaming and beautiful, snowy peaked, exalted rocky mountains, soon within their upper grasp.

  When Dacoh and his embraced possession, crossed the defining boundary, to the wave of triumph of that favorable warning sign, at the outermost entrance to his valley; designed tufts of fur and feather festoons, fluttering joyfully, summon ecstatically to his safe return, in the cheerful welcoming breeze. Dacoh’s partial heart ached and leapt divinely forward with eager anticipation. His pent-up yearning for attachment, the sweetest breath of expectation, rushed anxiously before him; then to race wildly over the low dull brown foothills, wishing through and to bypass, the firm stone impediments of the sculptured winding canyon; dissecting the formidable shielding escarpment, to reach his longed for source of the prolific life, his beautiful homeland and field, in the close screened valley.

  The moment Dacoh stepped to the inner-side of that faithful tri-pod, the acrid sweat of fear and doubt disowned him. Tah felt and smelled the difference. His smooth fluid loping strides, the natural self-possessed essence of his heated skin, relaxed her into a past midmorning torpor, as she traveled draped as loose sacking, dangling over his hugged shoulder.

  Completing the journey through the shallow cut in the desolate foothills, circumventing the pungent alkaline lye of the inset clear sapphire blue lake, then passing beneath the unhealed scar of the hanging display of shame’s bleached bones; Dacoh entered within the immensely high cliffs; deeply confined constricting chasm, sole strategic gate to his wonderful valley. He tenderly laid his precious pet upon the stone-step boundary of his land, waited for the maiden to rouse her self-possession, surely gave her a lingering drink of his diminished water, and then extended his appropriate hand, to help her arise to her feet. Dacoh, feeling fully satisfied with himself, proudly marched up the restricted canyon; the self-wrapped, barefooted and tousled, deerskin-bundle following closely behind. Dacoh could not have been happier, his trusted sense of duty had been virtually accomplished, he had survived this life-threatening ordeal; he was a vital, brave, and powerful man.

  The daunting massive barrier of huge, pitted with gray, displaced boulders, and tightly-clay-packed sediment, stood before Dacoh and the dejected maiden; blocking their narrow advance through the ever shaded sheer-faced chalky-pink towering canyon. Dacoh, looking calmly into the fawns softened passive black eyes, soothingly removed the deerskin cloak from around the young girls clutched shielding arms and hunched shoulders; shedding clear light on the forsaken, worn-out, beaten, naked little bruised waif. Draping her defensive remnant-pelt over his shoulder, Dacoh kindly took the thrashed girls hand and led her to the base of the hindering obstruction; guiding…, smoothly boosting, and lifting the insipid girl; climbing over, around…, squeezing through the chaotic large pile of accumulated boulders; they wearily succeeded on reaching the higher side of the eonian deposited, orderly, jumbled barricade. Dacoh sympathetically covered the stolid ashen young woman, laid her back and helped her sip a measured drink of water. He could still lose his treasured vessel if he did not soothe and tend to his emaciated little fawn; his continued future existence was at risk. Upon this fruitless abortive thought, a cold anxious shiver of possible failure surged through his body. He lifted his inevitable destiny, up into his grasping arms, and swiftly ran for the ease of his snug comfortable home and meadow, hidden-away in the cozy fertile valley.

  Twice more, they had to cross over the immense stone barricades, blocking and protecting his valley from indiscriminate erosion; so disarranged in his way by the past furious tantrum commotion of the ancient evil contrary Spirits’ sudden torrents. Every occurrence more difficult and strenuous to fully effect; his dull withered pet, being soothingly coaxed, gently pushed and persuaded, carefully pulled up and over the massive heap of misplaced obstacles. Each time, after getting to the determined elevated side, over again lifting her into the strong clasp of his arms, and racing for his home.

  Finally breaking free from this restrictive chasm, blindingly liberated beyond the last gripping hold, that of the towering and lustrous, golden-pink stone safeguard, of the vacated escarpment. The latter afternoon Sun barely shadowed the peaked edge of the broad and lofty dark-rust/maroon cliffside, to shield the infinite western boundary of his modest valley. Dacoh’s yearning heart burst with joyfulness, he had victoriously reached back home.

  With his compelling delicate scented treasure within his arms, Dacoh raced through the ascending twisted graveled gully, lurched up the worn rocky trail of the low hill, next arrived at the merging pathways at the top of the last knoll. He could now see the wide hazy stream of even smoke far-off across the valley, risen and still rising from his hidden little village, snuggled in a vivid grove of excited orange/yellow/ and mostly amber af-fluttering aspen, beneath the weeping rejoice-full dark-purplish harboring cliffs.

  Dacoh stepped flatfootedly down the central well-traveled, slippery curved pathway, alongside the emergence of standing lone yucca and outsized boulder strewn slope, his fixed reappearing vision upon his desired goal; and on reaching the elongated fertile basin of the brushier lower valley, he reluctantly skirted the broad flat reedy lake on the other shore, away from the near fallow fields of his smaller preferred village. The returning champion would not be able to enter the village of his people, until his given duty and avowed mission were completed; Ahcoo’ah had frankly apprised him of exactly what he must do to fulfill this promise. He found the expected nurturing private bulrush wickerup in the secluded glen, soundly waiting for him and his captured pet.

  By the vital instructions from Ahcoo’ah; Dacoh’s closest brothers, Oocaie, Eeboh, and the lame Hoocoh, had prepared the mound-shaped thatched oval wickerup for Dacoh’s hopeful return. They had faithfully and meticulously followed Ahcoo’ah’s exact directives, and constructed a fine cozy den for their special brother; the tainted women of the village were strictly forbidden to go even near this dedicated site. By their counseled detail, the brothers spread woven mats throughout, laid a bestowed array of soft pelts and deerskins in an inviting nest; and day after day, within the tightly enclosed personal lodge, had smoked a pungent green-leaf fire, to fumigate and eradicate any inhabiting blight or vermin, from the cleansed premeditated seed-plot in the canopied garden vale.

  Clinging to his prevailing treasure, Dacoh bent down and entered the awaiting wickerup, he carefully arranged the withered supple nude within the pliant soft pod of furry pelts; then yield to her the last remaining dribbled water from the near to emptied leathern gourds of his conserved supply. “Aie”, “Aie”, “Aie”, came the eager sound of greeting from the outside of the hallowed lodging; Dacoh went to the entrance, and a short distance from this dwelling stood his loyal brothers, Oocaie/ Eeboh/and Hoocoh, standing away as they had been told.

  “Aie!”, “my faithful brothers”, Dacoh gladly acknowledged.

  “You were seen by one of the older women on the lookout”; Hoocoh offered in reply; “Afar, amongst the broken stalks, across the placid lake”, “We whispered all-around”; “It must be you”!

  “We welcome you back, OUR brother”; said Hoocoh.

  “AIE!!” chimed Oocaie and Eeboh.

  Oocaie with his usual amusing wit, observed; “You look as if you have been battered by an aroused horn-mad mountain goat”.

  “Aie”, Eeboh laughingly agreed.

  “Yes, I have met all the evil provoking dark Spirits of my wors
t fears”, “My beautiful harmonious valley is a grateful sight”; Dacoh admitted with a thin grin.

  Dacoh, then recognizing his immediate priorities quickly stated, “My brothers”; “I need water, much water”; “I need food, bring me cornmush”; “I need pieces of buckskin; a large basin-bowl”; “ I need healing tallow”, “ Please hurry”, “ Tell Ahcoo’ah, I have succeeded in my quest”; “My brothers, we will talk later”; “Make Haste”.

  The three responsible brothers hastened in the direction of the village to meet Dacoh’s needs; the gentle Hoocoh shunting aside his dragging raggedy foot, as fast as he could with might, to keep-up with the other brothers. Oocaie and Eeboh would soon see to Dacoh’s specified requirements, while the thoughtful Hoocoh briefly informed Ahcoo’ah of Dacoh’s return and changed appearance.

  The dusky inquisitive specter of the overlooking concerned cliffs, had not yet closed their light over the secluded little wickerup, beneath and tucked away in a small grove within a shallow glen, near the south shore of the tall-grassed lake. Dacoh, fallen fretful, went back inside the dimly lit lodge to look after his withered pet. A cooling moderate wind rustled through the disrobing trees, and clattered and crackled as it rowdily tussled within the hollow dried yellow reeds of the rippling pond. Dacoh sorrowfully gazed down on his desiccated fawn, smoothed the stringy matted black hair from her dry ashen face, and waited for his reliable brothers to return.

  Dacoh could hear the announced anticipated approach of his dependable brothers; he quickly stepped from the wickerup to receive their offerings, for they should not come too close to this near dimming consecrated plot. Oocaie/Eeboh/and Hoocoh had brought all that he had asked; the three brothers placed the goods upon the ground, backed-away, crouched and squat on their heels.

  “Aie! my faithful brothers”, Dacoh anxiously iterated his greeting; “What of my honored grandfather, Ahcoo’ah?”.