by JR Green
Was that a gap in the sounds emanating from the woods along the eastern shore? If someone were there, their mere presence would silence the insects. His boat nearly stalled. Gently, he sunk his paddle back into the water and propelled it forward. He grew quiet again and listened. Again, he found the gap of silence. It had moved. He tracked it.
The gap which fell over the slope along the shore was real. Now he was sure that someone was following him. Someone or something was out there on the hill above the river.
The sun sank lower and backlit the canopy and tree trunks. Light filtered through the branches at odd angles. Leaves shimmered, and limbs swayed. Mintikwa saw shadows of pursuers in the woods. Was it a band of Soulless? The gap was real, but perhaps the shadows were his imagination. He tried to calm himself.
The last bit of light was fading fast. Mintikwa decided he needed to act.
When the trees closed in again, he paddled fiercely toward the riverbank. He knew he would be out of sight for a few moments. He entered a dense stand of undergrowth, jumped out of his canoe and into waist-deep water. He rushed for shore, stashed his boat, and sprinted into the woods. He darted up the hill to the base of an outcropping.
“This will do,” he whispered to himself.
Mintikwa circled around the rocks and climbed the hill where they emerged. He would at least have the upper ground. He reached the top of the rock hill and eased out over the edge for a look around.
No one approached, not yet anyway.
Mintikwa recalled the path of his supposed pursuer and estimated where it would line up beside the river's course. If he succeeded, his adversary would expect him to still be on the river. He pressed against a big maple, putting the tree between himself and where he imagined his pursuer would emerge.
He waited for a long time.
Soon he doubted his own senses. Perhaps no one was there. It had only been his imagination. Loneliness pressed in again. Visions of Eddytown ghosts welled up in his mind and danced among the dimming boughs.
Real shadows danced in the trees through the dense stand of saplings. Was it a deer? They did like to move at this time of the evening, searching for a place to bed down for the night.
Mintikwa hoped to get a better look. He shifted and peered around the tree.
It was definitely not a deer. A dark figure approached. His pursuer was walking on two legs! An icy sensation ran up and down his spine. His heart began to beat fiercely in his chest. Likely this was Soulless.
He had the high ground, he told himself. The advantage of surprise was his. But he had to act. Now.
He pushed away from his tree and crept along the edge of the cliff. He could take him from above. His pursuer would never know what hit him. Mintikwa moved silently. He thought of his uncle’s knife and pulled it free. His foot hit the ledge, and he leaped.
And then slammed into the figure.
She screamed. A girl?
Mintikwa had succeeded in gaining surprise.
He collided with her, but the momentum of the fall sent both of them rolling down the hill. Mintikwa struggled, regained control, rushed at her, and landed on her again. It was near dark, but even with the failing light, he now recognized his pursuer.
“Willow?”
“Get off me, Mintikwa!” she scolded.
More or less at once, Mintikwa felt shocked, relieved, thrilled, miffed, and finally curious.
He rolled away and then moved to his knees.
Willow sat up, leaves falling from her hair. She looked angry.
“Why on earth did you do that?” she asked.
“I thought you were Soulless,” Mintikwa said.
“Well, you thought wrong,” Willow said.
“I know that now. I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t be sneaking up behind people like that,” Mintikwa said. “I could have killed you.”
“Not likely,” Willow said, brushing dirt from her legs. “You are perceptive. I’ll give you that. And quiet too. You did get the jump on me, but that…” she motioned toward the cliff. “That was laughable,” she said. “That was no attack. You simply fell on me.”
“I ambushed you,” Mintikwa said, defending himself.
“Is that right?” Willow asked. “Well then, where is your knife?”
Mintikwa considered. Yes. He had drawn his knife, but he no longer had the weapon. He was so shocked to find his pursuer was Willow that he completely forgot about the blade. Mintikwa scanned the ground quickly but found nothing.
He turned back to Willow.
Slowly, she held out her hand. His knife lay in her palm. She smiled, seeming to taunt him.
“Give it back,” Mintikwa said.
Willow considered the weapon. “No,” she said. “I think I’ll hang onto it for a while.”
“Why are you following me?” Mintikwa asked, steering away from the fact that she bested him.
“I’m watching your back,” she said, brushing the last of the dirt from her arms.
“Well, I don’t need you watching my back.”
“Apparently, you do,” Willow said. “The woods are dangerous right now.”
“That’s kind of the point of a vision quest,” Mintikwa said, standing up.
Willow shook her head. She walked close to Mintikwa.
“One of my father’s scouts spotted Soulless near here.”
“And did he send you after me?” Mintikwa asked sarcastically.
“Well, no,” she said.
“Of course he didn’t,” he said.
She handed his knife to him. Mintikwa snatched it back.
Willow shook her head.
“I couldn’t stand by and wait to hear from some fisher about how you were slain,” she said.
Mintikwa dismissed her concerns and instead began to imagine the grief he would get about this from his mother, from his uncle, and especially Willow’s father, Raging Buffalo.
He suddenly felt anger toward her for putting him in this position but kept his mouth shut, choosing silence over accusations.
He started down the hill toward the river and his canoe.
“Where are you going?” Willow asked after him.
“Back to the river,” he said.
“Wait,” she demanded.
“Go home, Willow,” Mintikwa said, waving a hand as he walked away.
“I will not,” she said.
“Your father will kill me when he finds out you’re out here with me.”
“He’ll never know,” she said. She started after Mintikwa.
“Where else would you be?” he said over his shoulder.
“Looking for berries,” Willow offered. She caught up with him.
“Fine,” Mintikwa said. “Suit yourself. But I won’t be responsible for you.”
“Hey!” Willow shouted, stopping. “I followed you, risking my life to make sure you’re okay. And now you’re saying you’re not responsible?”
Suddenly Mintikwa felt dizzy. Blackness closed in. His vision narrowed. He staggered, then fell to one knee.
“Mintikwa?” Willow called out in alarm.
“I’m okay,” he said, putting a hand to his forehead.
Willow ran to him and took him by his shoulders. “Here,” she said. “Sit down.”
Mintikwa shook his head. “No. I just want to get back to the water.”
Willow helped him up. “It’s the fasting,” she said. “And all this running around in the woods. I think you’re right. Let’s get you back to the river.”
They stood, and Willow helped Mintikwa down the hill.
They made their way back to the river. The air cooled considerably, and Mintikwa began to feel better. When they emerged onto the beach, the night sky had dimmed to blackness, save a scattering of stars. A quarter moon hung low on the horizon. It was more than Mintikwa hoped for. He had never been all alone so far from home. He suddenly appreciated Willow’s presence.
They decided it was too late to get into the canoe and instead made camp.
It had been a long time since he and Willow had been together alone. Being so near her made Mintikwa uncomfortable. He wasn’t exactly sure why. His own sentiment surprised him a little. Once upon a time, they were best friends, but it had been several years since they had played together down by the shore near the beached canoes. Mintikwa knew it was her father who put an end to their play. They rarely spoke since that time. She spent all her days training in the ways of a warrior. And he spent all his time on the river. Memories rushed in of days gone by. Suddenly, he remembered with clarity the sweet sound of her laughing. They used to splash each other in the shallows. Now she was vying to be a warrior. She had already gone through the Rite. She was a couple of seasons older than Mintikwa.
Some time ago, Mintikwa’s mother hinted at the potential for a lifelong bond, but no one from Willow’s clan held any such presumptions, though her mother had been fond of him. Willow’s father only scowled in Mintikwa’s presence.
Raging Buffalo’s prominence at the council had waned in recent months, and this had only darkened his mood. Speaking at the council was born of necessity. He was not needed as much. With little pressure from their enemies, the discussion turned to more domestic matters. It was all due to Soulless. Or lack thereof. Suddenly they ceased their raids. From that day, as days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Raging Buffalo was not needed, so his involvement was less at the council. However, no one imagined that the Soulless had disappeared entirely. They were always in the minds of the people. Having been at the center of activity all his life, with the lull in fighting, Raging Buffalo was more prone to brooding. In the last couple of days, suddenly, he was back at the center of attention. As food grew more scarce and with the Soulless absent, the townspeople began talking about trying their luck to the south. But it would be foolish for gatherers, fishers, and hunters to enter the lands of their enemy so hastily. They needed warriors to sweep the area just to be safe. Raging Buffalo jumped at the idea. Finally, something to do besides sit around and wonder when Soulless would raid again. Since the fish scouting trip to the north came back empty-handed, he had all the backing he needed, and the seasoned warrior was beyond eager to head south.
Mintikwa knew of Raging Buffalo’s disdain for his familial roots. He imagined the war chief’s wrath when he discovered Willow was with him in the north.
Here she was, sitting cross-legged in the sand before him. She was gorgeous, he thought. Another reason for his discomfort. Was he dreaming? No, of course not. This was real. The summer night chilled even further. A breeze blew across the water, and Willow couldn’t help but shiver. Suddenly, she appeared vulnerable. He was compelled to wrap his arms around her, but he quickly suppressed the urge. Fire is what she needs, he thought excitedly, but then he remembered this wasn’t possible.
“I’m sorry,” Mintikwa said. “I can’t build a fire.”
“I know,” Willow said. “It’s fine.” She looked to the sky. “At least we have the moon for a little while.”
“We’ll make an offering of tobacco,” Mintikwa said. “It’s not much, but it should liven our spirits.”
“That would be good,” Willow said.
He took his deerskin pack from his canoe, walked to where Willow sat, and placed it next to her. He began to clean away all the debris - the twigs, the rubble, and the old leaves from the sand around them. Willow joined him in his efforts. They brushed away a few of the larger ants and beetles, apologizing to each for disturbing them. When the campsite was clean, they smoothed out the sand and drew a big circle. They eased down next to each other within the sacred circle.
From his pack, Mintikwa pulled two bundles, one of sage and one of tobacco. He lay them on the beach before them. He took out flint and stone and struck them together. A spark flew away but quickly died. He hit again, and more sparks shot out toward the dried sacred plants. He continued to strike the flint until showers of sparks came forth. Finally, the sage took fire and began to smoke. Mintikwa leaned in and blew on the bundle. Soon the tips glowed red. He turned to Willow, who smiled eagerly. He nudged the tobacco bundle into the embers as he blew, and it took fire too.
With the tendrils of smoke rising to the sky, Mintikwa and Willow began to sing. It was a song each had sung their whole lives. It was a prayer to the manitou, giving thanks and asking for guidance.
When it was over, Mintikwa and Willow lay back and watched the sky from within their circle.
The moon died away. Fireflies added a little bit of their own illumination to the night.
Mintikwa dozed. He thought Willow did the same, though he could hardly see her through the inky darkness.
“Willow?” Mintikwa asked after a while, interrupting their mutual silence.
“Hmm?” she said sleepily.
“Thanks for watching out for me,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she said.
The day had been exhausting for both of them. Soon they were asleep, though tendrils of fragrant smoke still rose into the trees, continuing to carry their prayers into the heavens.
“Over there,” Willow said excitedly, pointing to a place on the riverbank. “Let’s stop there.”
“What is it?” Mintikwa asked.
“You’ll see,” she said.
Mintikwa steered toward the edge of the water, and they beached the canoe.
Willow jumped out and climbed the embankment. Mintikwa followed her. She stopped at a stand of red bushes. Mintikwa laughed when he recognized the plant.
“Red willow!” he said. It was the plant she had been named for.
“Let’s take a few branches,” she said. The plant had many uses. The inner bark could be made into a mixture and smoked like tobacco. It had powerful medicine. In the hands of a shaman, it could be used to ward off monsters. The limbs made excellent arrows. Arrows made from red willow were often used in ceremonies. Mintikwa helped cut a few of the straightest branches. From the more immense trunks, they pulled away bark for Mintikwa to use for his evening offerings to the manitou.
“That’s enough,” she said, “Let’s leave some for whoever may come next.” They returned to the boat.
Mintikwa paddled to the middle of the river, and they settled back into their journey. She took one of the red willow branches and stripped the bark away from it.
“What are you making?” Mintikwa asked.
“An arrow,” she said.
She cut a notch at one end then set it down. She reached into her pack and retrieved a stone. It was a quartz crystal, a dazzling rock to behold, though easy to find in stream beds. She eyed Mintikwa, smiling proudly. She held it up to him so that he could see it closely. It lay in her palm. The crystal was opaque. It had a smoky white hue.
“You know,” Mintikwa said, remembering a bit of lore. “They say Underwater Panther favors the white ones.”
“Is that so?” she asked.
He touched it with one finger. Mintikwa could tell that she had worked on the arrowhead before, as it had a fine edge.
“It’s almost finished,” she said.
She eyed it carefully, then took up a rock from her pocket and struck it several times, fine-tuning its point. When she was finished with the stone, she retrieved cord from her pack, set the arrowhead into the groove at the tip of the red willow shaft, and wound the strand around the base of the arrowhead, securing it to the shaft. Then she pulled a couple of feathers out and bound them to the other end with more cord.
Willow held up the arrow. “You like it?” she asked, smiling proudly. He leaned in for a closer look.
He lifted his oar and laid it over the boat. He reached for the arrow, took it carefully in his hands, and ran his fingers along its length. It was remarkably straight and light, and the arrowhead looked very sharp. At the other end were brilliant red feathers, slid neatly into grooves. The cord, made from the tendon of deer, held them securely.
“You picked the perfect shaft. It’s a fine, straight arrow. Beautiful,” he said, and then he
handed it back to her.
They continued upriver as Willow fine-tuned all the pieces, especially the feathers.
When she finally completed the arrow, the sun had dipped below the trees.
“You’re not going to shoot that, are you?” Mintikwa asked.
She turned to Mintikwa. “Of course, I’m going to shoot it,” Willow said. “It is an arrow, after all!”
“It’s too beautiful. It would be a shame to lose it. Or break it in the hide of a deer.”
“What would you have me do with it?” Willow asked.
“If it were mine, I’d keep it safe at home. I’d put it above my bed so that I could see it every night before I went to sleep and again every morning when I awoke.”
Willow giggled. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head but seemingly flattered. “Trust me, Mintikwa. This arrow is destined to be notched in my bow. It will find either the heart of a deer or that of Soulless.”
“You can’t go all the way to Eddytown,” she told Mintikwa.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s just too far,” she said.
“We’re already a quarter of the way there,” he pointed out.
“Well, I’m not going that far,” she declared.
“I didn’t ask you to,” he said. “Anyway, what are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said. “But you should show a little more respect.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No one has been to the ancient town since we left it. At the beginning of this age,” she said. “Now, why do you suppose that is?”
Mintikwa shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said stubbornly.
“You do know,” she said. “Why do you suppose after all these years, not one hunter, gatherer, or fisher visited the old town?”
“People are content to stay put?” he offered.
