Willow Who Bends stood at the entrance of the Long House and stared at the sky. Though the sun shone brightly, to the west dark clouds gathered and carried the threat of a storm like the one she felt inside. She knelt beside the father of her spirit. Corn Dreamer had raised her and taught her the ways of healing. She prayed he would wake but feared he wouldn’t. Sorrow rode the beats of her heart and threatened to spill in a rain of tears.
"Corn Dreamer, must you travel to the spirit world and
leave this one behind?" Her voice cracked and she caught a breath to still
the ache in her throat. "The men have taken the warriors’ path in answer
to Waraghuyagey’s call. The-Man-Who-Understands-Great-Things speaks for the
redcoats, those men who want our help. What have we to do with the ones who
fail to live in harmony with the land?”
Not all the pale-skinned men, she thought. A smile crossed
her face. There was one who often stayed in the village and sat at Corn
Dreamer’s feet to learn.
Near a moon ago, a message had come for Hair of Fire. He
had left the Long House and journeyed west. A shiver crawled up her spine. Was
he safe? In these days, danger rode the currents of the air the way carrion
birds circled a kill.
She returned to her teacher’s side and pressed her fingers
against his wrist. What had made him fall into sleep yet not sleep? Why did his
heart flutter like humming bird wings and then slow. She wished for a way to
rouse him for he would know the answer.
"Corn Dreamer, spirit father, medicine man, this woman
is not ready for you to leave. What can this one do to help?"
She closed her eyes and sought among the things he had
taught her. An answer arose. "This one must go into the forest to gather
fresh leaves and bark."
From her sleeping place, she lifted a bark basket by the
carrying strap and left the Long House. As she stepped outside, she heard the
children’s laughter and the voices of the women raised in the growing chant.
The sound chased her sorrow.
Across the clearing, her sister sat with the ones too young to work.
No matter how hard she tried, she never
remembered more than the cry.
She stepped from the
shower. After pulling on a blue terry cloth robe, she stripped the bed and
stuffed the damp sheets in the hamper.
What had triggered the
dream? With the thoroughness of a pathologist seeking the cause of death, she
examined the past few days and found no incident that could be called a
trigger.
As she made the bed, she
recalled the first time she’d dreamed. She’d been sixteen. She and her twin had
been at Indian’s Sorrow visiting their aunt. Willow had always loved staying
there. This time had been different. One memory lodged in her thoughts.
"Willow, come here.
This is so neat." Brooke had opened the gate at the side of the garden.
Willow halted at the
opening. She looked beyond her sister. "Get away from the edge."
"I’m fine."
Brooke leaned forward. "The rocks look like a giant’s teeth. Come
see."
"I can’t."
Brooke laughed.
"Chicken."
"Something dreadful
happened here."
"And I thought I
was the one with the imagination and you were the logical one." Brooke
spun around. "I love this place. Do you think Aunt Willow will leave it to
us? She doesn’t have kids."
"I don’t..."
Willow had turned away. She hadn’t
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