My head snapped up.
“That’s what they’re looking for!” I said and gasped. I turned to see Three Scars’ eyes widen. “They’re looking for the Forest People. And I know where they camp, where they hunt, where they roam and where they live.”
“That’s why the government trackers are looking for you,” he said, his voice grave.
I breathed out fast and thought about the truth in his words. “I’m the only one who knows of the Forest People, even though I never told them anything. I think they suspect I do, though.”
He looked away from me, alarmed.
“And I have to go back. I have evidence they cannot find,” I said slowly, realizing what needed to be done. “If they find it, if they confirm their theory than this whole forest will change. Our way of life. Everything we love will be gone.” I blinked back tears at the thought of it. “It’s as much about protecting them, as it is about protecting all of us. I have to go back,” I said, and stepped toward him, placing my hand on his arm, asking for his help.
“What evidence? Where is it?” he asked.
I kept my head low but looked up briefly. “A skull,” I said and held my breath.
He stared right through me, his questions mounting without words, his eyes seeming to burn.
“It’s not like that, Three Scars. I didn’t kill one of them. Really, I wouldn’t do that.”
A smile crept over his face, reaching his eyes, lifting the myriad of emotions that ruled his expression. He laughed and put his head down.
“What? I said I wouldn’t do that, not that I was incapable. Why are you laughing?” I stammered.
“You are no match for them, but I admire your courage and fierce nature. I think Little Foot, is an appropriate name for you after all,” he said. He placed his hand on my shoulder again. “We must speak with the elders about this.” His eyes still held a smirk and I didn’t think it was funny. After all he’d never seen me with a bow…
I lay down and reached for the blanket, indignation settling in my heart. He blew the light out, his silhouette vaguely illuminated in the night. Laying down, he stared up to the top of the tipi, his hands folded across his chest, slowly rising and descending with each breath. I could only imagine what he thought of, and what he thought of me.
I yawned and lay my head on the bear skin bed, my thoughts rapidly shifting from the skull, to the strangers on the mountain near my home, to the attack at the river.
Somewhere between these thoughts I fell asleep.
Chapter 8
I dreamed.
The river rushed around my feet, cold and icy. The attacker appeared from behind the tree, a wicked grin that morphed into a face covered in hair, teeth that grew with each second, protruding from his mouth. I tried to run, lifted my foot from the water, but fell into a cluster of rocks submerged in the frigid liquid sucking me in, my feet too numb to feel anything, too frozen to function, immobilizing me. He growled and stepped forward. My knife in his hand, my reflection in his eyes, my escape impossible. “I’m coming back,” he roared.
I cried out, the sound of my voice waking me, pulling me from the river, from the nightmare. My heart raced, sweat covering me, my breathing fast and hard. I gasped, and tried not to cry, tried not to succumb to the fear. I sat up, and caught my breath, the feeling of dread trying to encompass me. I covered my face, my fingers trembling against my skin. Be strong. Be strong. I am strong. No weakness. But the tears pressed through my fingers, though I choked them back, held them tight. It was just a dream. I focused on the bed beneath me, the soft Sherpa hugging me, the warm air surrounding me.
A warm hand touched my arm and I jumped. “I’m here,” he said. The sound of his voice caught me somewhere between desperation and resolve and I didn’t know which way to turn. I wanted to lunge for something, anything to escape. My independence wanted to fight and find a way to be strong, but weakness tried to edge out my strength. “Cree,” he whispered, his voice like a shelter, calling me in from the storm. I lowered my hands from my face and tried to make out the faint outline of his tall form. I moved closer to him, and wondered if I was crossing forbidden land, worried I’d be turned away. A trespasser. Not sure where to go I stopped, waited, tried to reach safety within myself. He placed his hand on mine and I drew in a quick breath. I moved closer, and though everything in me wanted to cry out for help, I held back. His hand circled mine and gently pulled me in. I drew next to him, placed my trembling fingers against his chest, and he lowered his arm over me, closing the circle, encompassing me in safety. He lay on his side, my trembling subsiding by degrees. “Sleep, Cree. You’re safe,” he whispered.
“He’s coming back,” my voice sounded strange, distant. I tried not to cry, tried focusing on his calm breathing, the safety of his arms, the quiet of his presence. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice a low rumble. But it wasn’t okay. If I could stay in this quiet forever it might be, but I couldn’t. Morning was coming, the light of day would set me apart, the reality of life would separate me from this safe place, and I had no choice but to walk into whatever might come. I reached up, touched his face, felt his breath beneath my fingers, memorized him. I might not be here much longer.
Day would dawn.
It was only a matter of time.
Chapter 9
Birch’s body was found by the river, leaning against a rock, his 30-30 rifle across his lap, his fishing pole still dangling its line in the river, a rainbow trout caught on the hook. There was no evidence of harm or a struggle, but likely he passed away of natural causes.
The elder held his rifle with respect. I looked away, trying to absorb their words, but they were not real to me. Birch was too important to all dwellers on the mountain, and it was not possible to imagine life without him. I pictured him teaching me to hunt, trap, and track animals. “Can’t stand the thought of you starving, kid,” he said and shook his head.
“Little Foot?” someone said, and I glanced up, not knowing who spoke to me, or what they discussed. The elder stood up holding Birch’s firearm in front of him. I glanced at Three Scars and he nodded for me to go to the elder whose eyes held mine. It seemed the force of all nature was in those eyes and I stood up and walked toward him.
“Your warrior has told us of the knowledge you have of the Forest People,” his ancient voice carried the words like the wind carried leaves from one place to the next. “Birch had this same knowledge, and this is why he sent you to us. It was how he protected you. This never left his side, he carried it each time we met. It is now yours. And we are now your covering. My people are your people. We become what you need. If you need comfort, we comfort. If you need friends, we are friends. If you need family, we are your family,” he said and handed the rifle to me.
“Thank you,” I said. The weight of his kindness pressed into my heart, and the thought of Three Scars holding me in the night floated through my mind. He became the comfort I needed.
The elder nodded his head and I walked back to where I sat before.
“Now everything has been arranged, and you must prepare for your journey,” he said, dismissing the group of three warriors, three elders, and me.
We left the meeting and I braced myself to return home.
A pot of water boiled over an open flame while I gathered, moss, twigs, rocks, pinecones, manzanita leaves, and tree bark. I went inside and gathered my dirtiest jeans, a shirt, socks, and my knit hat and brought it back to the fire. I stirred again and waited for the tea to boil mixing the scents together, to burst open and flavor the water from the river. Three Scars watched my every move. He was quiet, pensive. Once the pinecones popped open and the scent pungent, I plunged my clothes inside the pot letting the mixture seep through the fabric. I moved the pot from the fire, and sat it on the ground to steep.
I turned to him not sure of how to thank him for his kindness.
“Who taught you this?” he nodded to the clothes in the pot.
“Birch taught me how to block my scent
so I can move through the forest less noticeable. Makes me smell like my surroundings.” I glanced at him and back to my clothes. The loss of my mountain father started to sink in. I felt it seeping into every part of me, and I didn’t know how I’d make it without him, without his support, without his looming presence guiding me.
“We have done this for generations. I am surprised you also practice this, but you are full of surprises,” he said. “I am also very sorry for the loss of a great man of the forest. He was father to you and friend to all.”
“Did you tell the elders about everything?” I asked, wanting very much to change the subject.
He dipped his head once, and studied me, pausing before he spoke. “They are concerned for you, living in an area where they live. It is not safe,” he warned.
“So you believe me now?” I asked. I found a forked stick and one by one pulled my clothes from the tea, wringing them out tight.
“I have always known of them, so I believed you from the start. I was surprised you knew of them, too.” He walked near and hung my jeans over the fire. I dangled my shirt from a branch next to them. “They are dangerous, Little Foot. They are not who you think.” He turned to me, and the expression in his eyes hid secrets.
“It’s been my home for a long time now. I’m not saying there’s no danger, because there is, but it just seems the bears and mountain lions are more of a threat most of the time.” I turned back to see him watch the water from my clothes drip into the fire, popping and hissing. I waited for the tea to cool, so I could pour it over my hair, hide as much of my scent as possible to avoid the government trackers and their dogs.
“Once I get the skull, we’ll leave. It won’t take long,” I said.
He cast a curious glance my way. “You have a way of changing the subject, but I won’t let you think – “
Over his shoulder I spotted Two Braids coming toward us, his swift steps, focused stare, upright stance warned me he carried news. Three Scars followed my gaze and turned.
“Brother, welcome,” he said and extended a hand to Two Braids. “What do the elders say?” he asked and angled slightly away from me.
“Red Hawk, me, and you are to go with her, stay hidden, but not leave her unprotected. If we come across anyone, we give them this,” he said and pulled a granite cross from his pocket, handing it to Three Scars, “a reminder of our pact with them, and the peace between our people.” I stepped closer and viewed the cross, small, polished, flaked with gold and black specks. “We exchanged ours with theirs, they will remember that they made this,” Two Braids said as Three Scars put it in his pocket.
“When do we leave?” Two Braids turned to me and asked.
“At dusk, just as the sun sets,” I said.
“We will be ready,” he said and nodded, then turned back to Three Scars, and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “We are warriors, and we fight together, like always.”
He walked away, and I turned to my clothes, hoping they would dry in time. Three Scars reached for my hand, turning me to face him. Surprised he initiated contact, since I was the one who had reached for him, I looked into his eyes. He said nothing, but I witnessed worry, and anxiety, pride, and steadfastness, all rolled into one, and somehow, I knew what he felt, though he didn’t say a word. I reached up and touched his face, the memory of our safe place still vivid in my thoughts. I sighed under my breath, frustrated I had no words to share with him either.
He leaned away from me and brushed the hair from my neck, his eyes softening into sorrow. “You are brave,” he said, his finger lingering on my neck for a second. I was thankful for his kindness, but something the elders said made me question it. We become what you need… if it’s comfort, we give comfort… Was he being kind because I needed it, or because he wanted to give it? To me there was a difference, and that difference meant a great deal.
I moved my pack from the side of the bed and went through it. I pulled out everything that was not essential: the hair brush, my bar of soap, the extra clothes. I kept only my arrows, gloves, snares, flashlight, matches, water, socks, a thin blanket, and a few other items. It lightened my pack tremendously and would make room for the skull I needed to retrieve. I slid my knife in my boot and inspected my bow.
Once the clothes were dry, I changed into them, left my other clothes in the tent, and walked outside, placing my pack by the entrance. I went to the pot of tea, leaned over and splashed it through my hair, being sure to get it damp enough to hide my scent. I folded it into one thick twist, and let it fall down the center of my back and pulled my cap on. I slung my bow over my shoulder, ready.
Three Scars, Red Hawk, and Two Braids had smaller green canvas packs, they leaned against a nearby rock. I walked over and viewed the map they studied, quickly spotting my area, and my property by the creek.
“If we go in through the rough country here,” Red Hawk said, “we have a better chance of avoiding the government trackers.”
I leaned in closer and looked at his proposed path. “That’s a good route, but we should turn here and skirt around right here, it’ll take longer, but it’s further from their search area. We’d come in through the back,” I offered, tracing my finger across the map. “Right here is part of the burn scar from the wildfire a few years ago, and I doubt they’ll be searching for anything there. And right here is the area they were searching before I left,” I said, pointing east of my cabin.
They glanced at each other, and at me. “It’s not our usual –“ Red Hawk started, but Three Scars raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. He glanced at me and nodded for me to continue.
“Another thing to watch for is cameras. They’ll likely have sensors positioned in many areas, so we need to remove any we find. They might be hard to spot, but if we look for them in this area,” I circled it with my finger, “we should be okay. That’s why I thought going at night would be best. They’ll be easier to see in the dark.”
“Good strategy,” Two Braids said.
“I’ll lead when we get close,” I said. “I know my forest well.”
The three men glanced at each other, a curious expression they shared without my understanding, and I thought it strange. A sort of knowing I couldn’t put my finger on…
“This route will be fine, but you will not take point when we get close. I will position myself there. It is safer this way.” Three Scars didn’t seem to like that I’d lead while he followed. I think for him, it made me a target, and a target he couldn’t let harm come to.
I hooked my pack over me, shouldered my bow and we walked due south. “Hey!” a voice called, and we turned to see Running Bear sprinting after us. Three Scars cast a questioning look at Red Hawk. They stopped and turned back. Two Braids and I kept walking in silence, knowing they’d catch up quickly. “What’s your name?” I asked and glanced toward him then back to the path. “What do you call me?” he asked. I was silent, not wanting to speak it out. He waited and looked out into the black night as though he could see every detail of the forest before us. His friendly demeanor and mild nature eased me to confess. “Well, I don’t really know anyone’s name, so I sort of call you Two Braids,” I said, and wished I found another trait to focus on. He looked at me. “That’s original,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that reached his eyes.
“Well, what is it?” I asked.
“It’s James, or Stands Tall.”
“I like James.” I smiled and he shook his head. “What’s his real name?” I asked, glancing toward Three Scars. His merriment faded. “That is for him to tell you, it is not mine to give away,” he said. Seemed to be standard practice among the Tore, and in a way, I thought it honorable.
Three Scars, Red Hawk, and Running Bear joined us. I didn’t acknowledge Running Bear. He didn’t greet me either, but ran ahead of us and came to a stop looking out at the terrain. We would climb a few mountains with snow still quite deep and descend to valleys with low chaparral and few trees and repeat the process. It would be a difficult journey,
and I calculated it may take several days to complete.
“What do you think of our legends?” Running Bear asked and cast a sly look at me. His eyes lingered on my hair and dropped to my bow.
Three Scars shot him a look.
“I think they’re interesting. All legends begin with some form of truth. Sometimes they branch out to be wildly exaggerated, and sometimes they are quite accurate,” I said and kept walking. Three Scars moved toward me and walked by my side, his hand brushing against mine.
“What do you say about your legends?” I countered.
“I can’t say much,” he said and walked in step beside Stands Tall.
Night was on us, and the terrain unfamiliar to me. I tried to keep up, but it seemed they could see in the dark, while I couldn’t. I stopped, pulled my pack open, and grabbed my flashlight. They looked at each other, and looked down, embarrassed maybe. “How can you see?” I asked. They didn’t answer and Three Scars said, “Come here.” He tossed his pack to Red Hawk, and in a swift motion swung me around his back, never missing a step. I held on tight and leaned into him whispering, “Thank you.” I couldn’t see his expression, but I think he smiled.
They leapt over rocks, across ravines, navigated through thick trees, and never faltered. I wondered if they had built in night vision. “Let’s run,” Three Scars said, and they took off. I pressed my face against his back feeling the pull and strain of his muscles forcing us forward, up the steep mountain. We crested the top and his stance changed as we descended into the valley below. They tossed a few jabs back and forth, laughed a little, and kept running. After ascending another mountain range with no rest, I tapped Three Scars’ shoulder and he tilted his head to hear me. “Can we take a break? I need to walk a bit.” My legs were cramped being hitched up for so long. He whistled and the other three warriors came to an easy stop and circled back to us. “Break,” he said.
My Name Is Cree Page 7