Next to the ancient oak stands a much thinner tree with a peculiar bend. It is a Cherokee marker tree like the one his grandmother showed him near the river where they swim. A marker tree is very rare. It’s a tree that was bent over as a sapling and then tied with an animal hide in a bent position throughout most of its young life. The Cherokee used them to guide their people to a source of water, a good place to cross a river, or a campsite or a sacred place. To those who can interpret their meaning, they are similar to a life-saving road sign. He would expect this marker tree to point to the river, but instead it points to the oak.
What could be so special about that old tree? Is something hidden there that someone in his tribe didn’t want to forget?
Stones, scattered among the exposed roots are captured by the tree’s grasp. Sam grabs a stick nearby and pokes the tightly packed earth around the roots. The smell of ancient dirt hits his nostrils—sweet, musty soil, undisturbed for years. For reasons he doesn’t understand, he digs harder and several rocks held captive by the tree’s roots fall at his feet. One by one he tosses the stones into the full riverbed, prisoners finally free to return home. In earnest, he digs more. Little Bear joins him, sniffing the dirt and thrusting his front paws deep in the loamy soil to help. Sam tosses more dirt-covered stones into the water. The stream baptizes them and washes them clean.
The digging stick Sam uses breaks mid jab. He searches for a sturdier one and finds a branch with a naturally formed “v” at one end that proves perfect for his purpose. Although his body hurts from the fall, he welcomes the distraction. Sam imagines himself a warrior given the task of searching for buried treasure and continues digging. Then, to his surprise, a glimmer of light sparks in the dirt. Is this a sign of something valuable? Sam renews his quest. Little Bear sniffs the fresh dirt churned up from Sam’s efforts.
A chunk of stone, the size of a small baseball, is lodged underneath one of the gnarled roots. It isn’t smooth like the earlier rocks he threw in the river, but looks like it has lived a hard life. Sam surveys the surrounding area to decide how to get it out. Dirt and several smaller roots encircle the stone, gatekeepers protecting their treasure. He rolls up his shirt sleeves and spits in his hands to get better traction on the stick. Grunting from the effort, he makes several deep jabs into the earth around the stone, but it won’t budge. The stubbornness of the rock makes Sam want it more. He makes sharp jabs into the soil, and then pulls at the root system above the rock. Dirt and small pebbles fall at his feet, but the stone stays put. Sam sits on his haunches beside the roots and gives them additional hard pulls. With every effort, his aching body reminds him of his tumble down the mountain.
Sam drops to his knees. In his tug-of-war with the tree, it appears the giant oak has won.
“I give up,” he says to Little Bear. But it isn’t like Sam to give up so easily. In frustration, he gives the root above the stone one last hard shake.
As Sam is about to walk away, the stone—without fanfare—falls to the ground and rolls inches away from his boot. Before he has time to react, the red hawk returns. It swoops down, lets out another piercing cry and flutters excitedly above him. Instinct tells him to duck under the roots.
Barking, Little Bear lunges for the bird, but misses. As the hawk flies away a reddish brown feather floats to the ground. At the same time the wind roars through the trees, and Sam hears a voice directly behind him.
This is a good omen, Grandmother says.
He turns around to look for her. Has she changed her mind and come to meet him on the trail?
“Did you hear that?” Sam asks Little Bear.
Little Bear tilts his head as if to ask, “Hear what?”
Seconds later Sam hears his grandmother’s voice again.
This is a good omen, Grandson.
How can her voice be in the forest when she is at home? Sam studies the red hawk feather, his frown forcing him to remember the cuts on his face. Something strange is happening. Another shudder rises from somewhere deep inside him and his fingers tremble as he holds the feather. For the second time that day he feels afraid.
CHAPTER 7: RIDDLES
A steady wind blows through the leaves of the great oak. Little Bear sniffs the air and then Sam smells it, too. Mixed in with the wind is the scent of lavender––his grandmother’s scent. Lavender grows on the back porch near their kitchen. She often places it in bunches on the kitchen table and wears it in her hair. It is as if Sam’s grandmother is standing right beside him.
Mysterious things are happening. Riddles heap on top of riddles. Sam ponders the message he heard. How could being attacked by a hawk, falling down a mountain and pulling a worthless old rock from a tree’s roots be a good omen? Grandmother taught him that omens are signs that announce a great blessing or a great curse.
I wouldn’t mind a blessing, he thinks, but I’ve already had enough curses in my life.
Falling down a mountain is probably a curse to anybody you ask. Not to mention his mom leaving to get away from Rocky, and with Rocky’s gambling, his father is also as good as gone.
However, Sam isn’t a stranger to blessings, either. He has Allie, his friends, Little Bear, and especially Grandmother, who is the biggest blessing of all. He looks around for her again. Since when does he hear voices?
He places the hawk feather in an eyelet of his baseball cap. When he gets home he’ll show it to Grandmother and ask her to explain the bird’s odd behavior. Sam leans against the tree he ducked behind. Maybe the fall made him crazy. But he didn’t imagine the red hawk. He has the feather to prove it. In the Spirit World all sorts of things happen that don’t make sense; at least not until later. He stands and brushes dirt from the knees of his pants. Then he washes his hands and face in the stream, letting the cold water refresh him. Water ripples across his reflection. The cuts left behind by his fall look exactly like the four gashes clawed into his skin by the bear in his dream. Maybe the dream was an omen, too.
Nearby, Little Bear lies on a small sandy beach as Sam remembers the stone he freed earlier. He starts to toss it in the water but then stops.
I worked too hard just to throw this away, he thinks.
Instead of discarding it, Sam rinses the stone in the stream. With the dirt washed away, it fits into the palm of his hand. He holds it up to the sunlight. A chunk has been knocked out of it like a small open window to reveal the center of the stone. The colors inside are the deepest reds and purples Sam has ever seen. They look like fire and sunset sky stirred together in one pot.
The red heart of the stone reveals a faint star reflecting the sunlight outward, creating a chamber of mirrors. It reminds him of something his grandmother told him about his ancestors, about how every tribe had a fire-keeper to insure the sacred fire never went out. It is as if the stone holds its own sacred fire. For some reason, looking into the center of the stone makes Sam stand taller. He puts the rock in his pocket. As he does, he hears Grandmother’s voice again.
Thank the tree for what she has given you, she says.
Sam looks over at Little Bear, who hasn’t moved. Whether he’s nuts or not, Sam decides it is probably wise to obey his grandmother. Bowing to the grand old tree, he thanks it for the gift of the stone. This is one secret he won’t tell anyone except Grandmother.
With the stone safe in his pocket, Sam pauses at the stream and looks up at the path high above him. To climb back up the steep incline is too much to ask his sore body to do. But there is another way. Grandmother told Sam that if he ever became separated from the path to follow the stream down the mountain. If his calculations are correct, somewhere downstream he will join up with the path to Rachel’s Pass.
Sam walks along the stream bank, pushing away the thick underbrush so he can pass. He picks up a broken tree branch to use as a walking stick. The sun casts checkered shadows in front of him. In the damp earth near the stream he notices a set of animal tracks. Footprints with five pads, the widest in the center. Cat prints. Bigger than a house cat, but smaller than a m
ountain lion.
“It’s a bobcat,” Sam whispers, as if Grandmother is standing next to him. She taught him how to tell the difference between the tracks from the cat family and ones from the dog family—foxes, coyotes and wolves. A cat print is rounder, with no nails showing. Dog tracks are narrower and have nails.
Little Bear nudges Sam out of his cat-like trance. Grandmother believes every creature in the forest has something to teach us if we are willing to learn. Warriors are students of nature. But what might a bobcat teach him? He gives this some thought.
To a bobcat every action is about survival: food, water, and shelter. In that way, Sam is like the bobcat. Right now, he needs to get home. He is already hungry again and without shelter.
Sam follows the bobcat’s prints until they disappear. Mountain laurel again surrounds him, blocking out the sun. The forest is unfamiliar here. Even the stream looks different.
Periodically, Sam checks his pocket to make sure the stone is still there. He wants to ask Grandmother how finding the stone might be linked to becoming a warrior. If only she had come with him to the mountain that morning. He needs her to show him the way home. The forest feels like a stranger. A stranger who doesn’t want to be known.
CHAPTER 8: LOST
The stream, too deep to cross, forces Sam further and further into unfamiliar territory. The path he thought he would eventually join is nowhere in sight. His stomach reminds him that he skipped lunch.
As he rests on a mossy bank, Sam studies the sun’s position to determine its direction. Is he going northeast or southwest? The fall down the mountain has confused him. Grandmother knows how to read the sun and shadows and the direction of the stream. He doesn’t.
“Grandmother, I could use some help here.” He looks into the tops of the trees and the sky beyond and waits for her answer, but there is none.
Sam thought he knew this forest, but he was wrong. To make matters worse, the maze of mountain laurel has closed in on him. Their sweet, yet bitter smell is everywhere and reminds him with every step that he is somewhere he shouldn’t be.
At the stream he cups his hands to take another drink. At least he doesn’t have to worry about thirst. This deep into the mountains, the water is clean. Little Bear takes big gulps, as if the stream is a giant water bowl.
It is late afternoon, the hottest part of the day. It has taken Sam hours to advance a short distance. He takes off his T-shirt, wipes the sweat from his face and hangs his shirt from his back pocket.
Scratches cover his arms and legs where the mountain beat him up. The edges of the red cuts are already turning purple with bruises. He continues forward, pushing aside the laurel and keeping an eye on the stream. As long as he follows the water, he should be okay. Grandmother wouldn’t steer him wrong.
Occasionally, he realizes how beautiful the forest is here. It is an area too remote to be reached by trails. If he weren’t lost, it would be a great adventure. But he is lost, and even though he likes to imagine his grandmother walking beside him, he is alone. Fear closes in on him like the laurel.
Wildflowers and mushrooms dot the mossy edges of the stream. Despite the moist earth grabbing at his boots with every step, Sam keeps going, pushing aside the heavy limbs of mountain laurel that block his progress.
He stops to rest again on the soft moss and Little Bear sleeps. The Cherokee consider water, sun, and fire to be sacred gifts of the Great Spirit. He has been blessed with all three today. He thinks about his ancestors and how many fires they built over the centuries. Not only to warm, but also to cook with and protect themselves from wild animals.
As if conjured up by his thoughts, Sam notices a coyote on the other side of the stream and a gasp catches in his throat. It is female. The coyote stands totally still, her eyes trained on Sam. She has a long narrow snout, pointed ears, and is light gray with a rust-colored stripe on its chest like the red hawk.
Sam glances at Little Bear who is still asleep. The last thing he needs is for his dog to try to protect Sam from the coyote. It is a battle Little Bear can’t win.
He forces himself to stay calm. Animals can sense fear and it makes them more prone to attack. The coyote sniffs in Sam’s direction, as if everything to be learned about Sam can be gathered from his scent. For several seconds they stare at each other. Sunlight reflects in the coyote’s eyes and reminds Sam of the fire inside the stone. In the silence between them, it is as if the coyote is listening to Sam’s story and Sam is listening to the coyote’s. By being in each other’s presence they are understanding each other’s lives, if only for a few seconds.
Oddly enough, Sam is not afraid. Grandmother told him that coyotes are cunning, clever and powerful teachers. While other animals were hunted to extinction, the coyote has survived. Like the bobcat, did Sam call the coyote energy to teach him something?
The coyote’s ears track a sound in the forest although her gaze stays with Sam. With deep interest, they watch each other as if both have lessons to learn. Sam listens as his grandmother taught him, not with his head but with his heart.
We are no danger to one another because we are the same, the coyote seems to say. We are doing whatever we can to help our tribe survive.
Little Bear begins to snore and Sam turns to look. When he looks back at the coyote she is gone.
A long time afterward Sam thinks about his visitor. If omens are divided into blessings and curses this was definitely a blessing. The coyote let herself be seen and seemed to understand why Sam sought out his ancestors to preserve his tribe.
Just as the stone was a gift from the giant oak, the coyote was a gift from the forest. Sam thanks the forest for the coyote and smiles when Little Bear finally wakes.
CHAPTER 9: THE PATH
It has been hours since his mid-morning fall down the mountain. They need to get going again or they may be stranded in the woods overnight. Sam’s pace has slowed. He is tired of walking and weary of being lost. Discouragement becomes his companion. If this were a battle he would be tempted to surrender. Great Spirit can do with him whatever he wants. If it is his journey to die here in the forest, he will.
Little Bear nudges Sam with his nose and whines as if not willing to let Sam give up. But for all Sam knows he could be miles from where he fell. What if he never finds his way home?
Seconds later he sees a boy running through the forest wearing only one shoe. Sam catches only a glimpse in the shadows. Is this the path the lost boy took two summers ago? He shakes the mirage away. Exhaustion is making him see things that aren’t there.
Sam takes the stone from his pocket and stares into its crimson center. For some reason he was meant to find this stone. He doesn’t believe it is the stone’s fate to be lost again in the pocket of someone who never finds his way out of the forest.
Deciding to trust his ancestors, Sam keeps walking. A few minutes later he discovers a faint path leading away from the stream, one that hasn’t been used for a long time. Sam follows the path. The feeling through here is different, almost dreamlike.
The tall, slender birch trees sway and creak in the wind. They often grow in stands, with twenty or so trees in one area like extended family. Shade gives way to sunlight sprinkled everywhere. With each step his courage grows. Even his hunger has subsided for now. The next stand of trees are large oaks. The stone in his pocket was a gift from the roots of a similar tree. The oaks stand like guardians overlooking the young birch, pine, and sycamore. As soon as he leaves this area the enchantment ends. Was this some kind of sacred grove to his people? A place were ceremonies took place?
Minutes later Sam comes to place where the path splits in two different directions. Which way should he go? As if to answer his question, a breeze sweeps through the birch trees nearby and blows the hawk feather out of the eyelet of Sam’s cap. The feather rests on the ground. Grandmother taught him to look for signs. Is this one of them? He studies the feather at the crossroads. The tip points to the path to the right, and if this isn’t enough Sam hears a
gain his grandmother’s voice.
This way, she whispers in the breeze.
Sam smiles. “Grandmother’s back,” he tells Little Bear. “She hasn’t deserted us after all.” He turns his head like Little Bear does when he’s looking for the source of a sound. Her voice comes from the direction the red hawk feather points.
After placing the feather back in his cap, Sam notices another Cherokee marker tree in the distance. His tribe has been here before and left a pointer of which way to go. With renewed energy Sam follows the sign. Around the next bend he stops and drops to his knees in gratitude, not surrender. Thanks to his ancestors, Sam’s fate has shifted as quickly as the wind. In front of him is a path he recognizes.
CHAPTER 10: SAVAGES
Sam stands and shouts his excitement. Little Bear jumps up and Sam holds his front paws as if dancing.
Little Bear barks at Sam’s excitement. Ahead is a sandy area that forms a small beach at a swimming hole he has come to before with Grandmother. He knows the way home from here. Sam calls out again.
“How about a swim?” Sam says to Little Bear. But he already knows the answer. Little Bear can always be talked into a swim.
Sam slides off everything but his underwear and slips into the water. His tired body relaxes. The stream glitters green and gold with sunlight. Tiny minnows nibble at Sam’s legs and toes, as Little Bear paddles through the water, drinking it at the same time. Then Little Bear swims to the shore, gets out and shakes before lying in a sunny spot on the stream’s bank and promptly falls asleep.
Sam floats on his back, letting the water hold him. Any ill effects from his long day quickly vanish. His body tingles with relief.
Mingled in with the sound of the stream is a melody Grandmother often sings. He hums it as he floats. The stone he found is still in his blue jean pocket on the shore. But finding the stone is nothing compared to falling down the mountain and getting lost. He can’t wait to tell his grandmother about his day. Of course, she won’t question any of it. To her, the universe is full of mystery. And Sam is just beginning to understand what this means.
Circle of the Ancestors Page 3
