by J. M. LeDuc
Spirit Cave
March 8, 1:30 p.m.
* * *
Entering the cave, the smoke was thicker than before, making it difficult to see. Although her sight was fuzzy, her other senses were heightened. Pamoon felt different than she had the first time. It was no longer a feeling of familiarity; it was one of belonging. But that wasn’t the only difference she felt. Something about the cave had changed. She could sense it but couldn’t see it.
Maybe this place does have its own spirit. Squinting, she could see the flicker of the ceremonial fire. Through the haze, she made her way to the center of the cave, and saw the leather jacket in the shadow of the flames.
I can’t believe I forgot to take it with me when I left, she thought, bending down to pick it up.
The longer she stood, the better accustomed her vision became to the smoke. Seeing through the haze, she realized why the cave felt different. Everything in it had changed. The fire still sat in the center, but all the etchings and tapestries were different.
Pamoon’s mind spun trying to make sense of the etchings. The wall was covered in a series of petroglyphs, each appeared to tell part of a story. It’s like an ancient graphic novel, she thought. The first carving showed a person surrounded by animals. In the second, the person stared at a four-legged beast, Pamoon had only seen in fables. Squiggly lines ran between the eyes of the human and the eyes of the beast. Stepping to her right, Pamoon stood in front of the third petroglyph. The man gone; the beast changed. It was so life-like it seemed to stare back at her. Pamoon chilled when she noticed the beast now bore the eyes of the human.
Staring at the wall, Kise’s words came back to her. “You are kakesimototakew, one who communicates with the spirit world. You must find your powamow, your animal identity.”
Goosebumps sprang up on her exposed flesh, her legs quivered and buckled as Kise’s words reverberated. Leaning on the staff for support, Pamoon studied the etchings, trying to understand. “Am I supposed to believe that I am that person?” she mumbled. She shivered, just thinking about the possibility.
Regaining her balance, Pamoon eyed the rest of the cave, hoping to find Kise. “I did as you told me,” she yelled. “I went to Powaw for guidance, and he sent me back here. This,” she pointed at the wall, “makes less sense than the rest of this cave.” Pamoon waited and listened for Kise’s voice, but heard nothing. “Fine,” she said, jamming the end of the staff down on the dirt floor. “If you don’t want to help, I’m going home.”
Pamoon turned to leave, but the opening was gone. Frustration exploded from deep inside her as she stared at the wall. “Open the God-damn cave!” she yelled. “Oh. Wait. You’re not God, you’re the Creator.” She threw air quotes, accentuating her words. “Open the Creator-damn cave!” Nothing. She waited, but the wall stood. Slumping to the ground, she dropped her head in her hands, kicked her feet, and grunted. “What do you want from me?”
Only silence screamed back at her.
Scout nuzzled his snout between her arms and rested his wet nose against her cheek. Atahk perched herself on top of her shoulder. Pondering her companions, the chief’s words echoed through her mind.
Behind that wall is their world as well as yours.
Kissing Scout on his nose, Pamoon stood and looked up at the ceiling, “I’m sorry for yelling,” she whispered. “I just don’t understand why I’m here. Please talk to me.”
Again, she was answered with silence.
Tired of doing nothing, she stood and brushed the dirt from her jeans. “Well, if this is our world,” she said to Scout and Atahk, “let’s see what it can tell us.”
She, along with her companions, moved further down the wall. There she witnessed more petroglyphs, this series of etchings was darker than the first. The first depicted a bird, with stars where its eyes should have been, staring at a girl. Pamoon stroked Atahk and felt the raven’s heartbeat under her hand. Is that you? She wondered. Looking back, she thought: Is that me?
The next carving was what Pamoon expected. The bird was alone and it now had the girl’s eyes. It was the next—and the last—that truly frightened her. In that petroglyph, the bird stood on top of the prone body of another person with what appeared to be a smile on its face. Its eyes now hollow, blood dripped from its beak.
She gasped at the horrific sight.
Regaining her composure, she placed her finger in front of Atahk and commanded the bird to step onto it. Moving her hand so she could look directly at the raven, Pamoon thought aloud, “Are you good . . . or bad?”
In response, Atahk pecked her gently on the nose and flew into the dark recesses of the cave.
Pamoon rubbed her nose. “I’m not quite sure what to make of that answer.”
The surprise of being pecked caused her to drop the leather jacket. Picking it up, her palm burned.
Kneeling, she opened the jacket so she could see the lining. Once again, the message had changed.
A legend is told that one with enough power can manifest the spirit of any animal of its choosing. With enough power, man can take the shape of the animal. Our Navajo brothers call such a being the Yee Naaldlooshii or Skinwalker. Beware, for the Yee Naaldlooshii is equal parts good and evil. Only its true spirit will mark its way.
Pamoon looked back at the wall. “Is that what this story is all about,” she thought aloud. “Did the girl turn into the raven? Is the girl the skinwalker?” Focused on the last part of the second petroglyph, she wondered about the part the raven played. Looking back down at the jacket, the words changed again, right before her eyes:
Beware the raven. Its wiles are hard to control and its spirit is strong.
Something about the words she read made Pamoon think back to the last time she was in the cave. Rereading it, the word wiles stood out from the others. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember when she had heard it spoken before.
She remembered it was back when she’d first entered the cave and had asked Kise questions about the Flying Head. Kise had responded: It is only through the power and wiles of man that Kanontsistonties can be sent back.
Pamoon’s eyes snapped open like blinds on a window. She shrugged on the jacket and patted her thigh. “Come on, boy, we need to find Atahk.”
38
Forked Path
March 8, 2:00 p.m.
* * *
Jogging toward the back of the cave, Pamoon commanded Atahk to return. “Astam.” The bird cawed but didn’t return. The further from the fire Pamoon ran, the darker and colder the cave became. Continuing to call the raven, the sound of Atahk’s response echoed off the walls making it hard for Pamoon to follow. Pamoon slowed until she and Scout were moving at a snail’s pace.
Scout stopped, barked, bit her shirt tail, and pulled.
“Oh, so you want to lead?”
Scout let go of her shirt and jumped up, placing his front paws on her shoulders, and barked again, this time directly in her ear.
Smiling, Pamoon rubbed his chest. “Okay, boy, take me to Atahk.”
Continuing, the cave’s size surprised Pamoon. Darkness swelled with each step. Every few seconds she called for Atahk and each time received a caw in response. With each sound, Scout wagged his tail and moved forward with confidence.
Deep in the recesses of the cave, Scout’s tail wagged less, until it was tucked tightly between his legs.
“What is it, boy?”
Scout pawed the ground and growled. A few steps further, and Pamoon understood his trepidation. A slight breeze blew a foul odor through the darkness causing her eyes to water.
Afraid to move, Pamoon called for Atahk. Anxiety ripped through her tone. “Astam!”
Incessant crowing filled the cave. Staring in the direction of the noise, two amber eyes appeared.
Pamoon’s heart pounded in correlation with her fear.
The eyes grew nearer, allowing her to see the fluttering of wings.
Pamoon gripped her staff like a baseball bat and swung in the direction of the eyes. The mom
entum of the heavy pole spun her around, causing her to trip over her own feet. She landed on her butt as the eyes moved into the dim light. About to swing from her seated stance, Pamoon realized that it wasn’t Kanontsistonties, but Atahk.
Her heart racing, Pamoon sprawled out on the cold, dirt floor. From her prone position, she heard Atahk coo. The raven fluttered above her head before landing on top of it. Pamoon rolled her eyes as the bird tilted its head down and playfully pecked her on the cheek.
“For something so small, you sure are a big pain,” Pamoon said, getting to her feet. Pointing to the top of the staff, she commanded, “Koskwawatapi.”
Atahk obeyed and perched herself on the tip.
Happy to regain some control, Pamoon checked out her surroundings. It was so dark, she scrunched her eyes to try and see clearer. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight.
Why didn’t I think of this before? She thought.
Shining the light, her revelry was quickly aborted. About twenty feet ahead, the cave split. One side forked left and the other right. In between sat a dividing wall. A wall etched in Cree. A bone-shaking chill ran up her spine as she read what was written.
One path will take you to the Spirit Mount, the other will send you to the netherworld, from which there is no return.
Pamoon tried to take a step closer, but Scout grabbed hold of her shirt and pulled her back.
“Okay, boy. You win. Let’s get away from here.”
39
Kanontsistonties
March 8, 2:30 p.m.
* * *
As the Sky Spirit Goddess moved closer, Kanontsistonties’ eyes grew darker. Blood pooled in the skull’s cavernous jaws, imagining the taste of her spirit. The skull now covered with muscle and skin had begun to form other body parts. With the addition of Celia’s spirit, it began to take on more human qualities. The demon knew if he consumed enough spirits, or stronger ones, its demonic body would be made whole. It had waited an eternity for this moment.
“Come little bird, come.”
The demon watched as the girl and the cub crept closer to the path of darkness. He grew rabid as she called for the bird, “Astam.” Suddenly the raven, which had been held in its power since it had flown near, flew from its perch on top of the skull.
“Her power is even stronger than I imagined.” A drop of blood dripped from its open jaw, making the sound of acid sizzling as it hit the rocky ground. “I will be absolutely invincible once I possess her spirit.”
Kanontsistonties turned and flew back to its lair, knowing its next move. It was time to dispatch his minions in order to gather together an unstoppable army.
40
Tapestries
March 8, 2:45 p.m.
* * *
Back in the Spirit Cave, close to the fire, Pamoon focused on the tapestries. The images were once again different; however, unfinished. The first, she recognized immediately, it was to be the Spirit Mount—the colors bright and vibrant. The second tapestry was darker and harder to decipher. Gazing back and forth, Pamoon scratched her head. That’s weird. Why hang unfinished rugs?
Studying them further, Pamoon felt an attraction to both. Reaching her hand out, she touched the darker one. Instead of feeling the coarse woven material, her hand pulsed with energy: like the opposite poles of a magnet. At her core, she felt as if she was being baited, but the temptation was strong. She stretched her arm out a bit further to feel more of the energy when suddenly her hand was sucked into the tapestry. Pressure gripped her arm, drawing her deeper into the picture. Pamoon tried to pull free, but the unseen grip tightened. Fearful her entire body would disappear into the image, she gritted her teeth, grunted, and twisted her shoulder back and forth, trying to free herself.
Scout bit down on the back of her jeans, leaned on his back haunches, and clawed at the dirt.
“That’s it, Scout, pull,” she yelled.
For a moment, it was a standoff, neither side winning. Twisting her entire body, Pamoon’s shoulder ached, her muscles burned, as she tried to pull loose from the invisible force. Tiring from the battle, she screamed, “Pakitin!” At her command to let go, the grip on her arm was suddenly gone. Released from her invisible foe, she fell back onto the cave floor.
With heart pounding and sweat pouring from her face, she looked up; Scout stood over her, his tail wagging, a ripped piece of her jeans in his mouth. Reaching up, she hugged her best friend, both panting and happy to be together.
“Thanks for the help,” she labored, clinging tight to his neck.
Sitting where she had fallen, Pamoon reached into her pack, retrieved a water bottle and sipped, as she stared at the tapestries. Calmer and more in control of her emotions now, she decided to take a different approach. She stood in front of the first unfinished hanging, the one of the Mount, and placed her other hand in front of it, but didn’t touch it. Not feeling any pull, she timidly poked a finger at it and felt the roughness of the threads.
Realizing that she had touched the darker one with her left hand, the one that bore the flame, she repeated the process with that hand. This time she felt a warmth when she held her hand close. Using one finger, she once again tried to tap the material, but it passed straight through. The warmth she felt increased her confidence until she was reaching deeper with each thrust.
With her entire arm enclosed inside the tapestry, she felt a healing glow run up her arm, relieving the aches and pains she’d received from battling the dark force of the first.
Retracting her arm, her birthmark glowed a deep red. Pamoon rubbed her hands together as if she could scrub it away.
Again, she eyed the tapestries. Each of them more complete than before. The inner edges of both, like pieces of a puzzle, combined to form the fork in the cave she had retreated from.
Good and evil, she thought.
Shaking off the chill she felt from her revelation, she moved to a third and final tapestry. It was a picture of Atahk. The image was creepy, for the raven was now two-headed. One had stars for eyes and the other had hollow spaces where its eyes had been.
Pamoon looked at her little friend. “Good and evil,” she whispered. “Which are you?”
Her question was answered with a chirp and a peck.
Pamoon shook head. “Crazy bird,” and walked back to the first tapestry of the Spirit Mount. She clipped Scout’s leash to his collar, made sure Atahk was perched on top of the staff, and held both with her right hand. Using her left, she reached out, took a deep—courage-filled—breath and stepped through the tapestry, directly onto the Spirit Mount.
* * *
“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”
Pamoon stepped forward and stood next to Kise who stood at the cliff’s edge. “You’ve been here the entire time?”
Kise nodded.
“Did you see what happened back in the cave?”
Another nod.
Pamoon clenched her fist in anger. “And you did nothing? You let me almost get pulled into the netherworld!”
Kise reached down and petted Scout behind his ears. Her touch seemed to turn his fur from grey to white. “You were protected. You didn’t need me.”
Pamoon blinked repeatedly, staring at Scout. It must be the bright sun, she thought.
Eyeing Kise, she asked, “Sooo, you would have come if Scout hadn’t pulled me loose?”
There was no response. Instead, Kise turned to face the edge of the cliff. “You have seen glimpses of your power, but you must learn to harness and use it. Like the wind, it can provide welcome relief or it can bring bitter cold.”
“More riddles? That’s your answer?”
“Life’s lessons, its virtues and its sins, are never a direct result of knowledge. Only our trials and experiences can help us decide which path to follow.”
Pamoon threw the staff on the ground and swung her arms wildly in the air. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Her cheeks redden
ed as she continued to yell. “I came here to help Bobby and my friends, but for all I know they are lost forever. Every time I do as I am instructed, I run into a dead end, or worse . . . I get another damn riddle. Just tell me what I need to do!”
Pamoon slumped to the ground, unable to control her tears, her body shook with each labored breath.
“Nipawi, Kiche.” the Creator demanded.
Pamoon had never heard the Creator raise her voice. She wiped her eyes and stood. “I wish everyone would stop calling me by that name.”
“It is your destiny, if you choose, to become the Sky Spirit Goddess.”
Pamoon’s shoulders drooped. “I barely know how to be a sixteen-year-old white girl in a Cree world, how am I supposed to be a goddess?”
“One day you will evolve.”
Pamoon opened her mouth to ask a question but was silenced by Kise’s outstretched hand.
“You were born with eyes to see and ears to hear, a nose to smell and hands to touch, but you were also born with a sense others don’t have. You were marked since the dawn of time with the ability to transform. You must learn to trust this ability if you are to truly help your friends.”
Pamoon’s birthmarks burned hotter with every word Kise uttered. The flame on her hand burned and the side of her neck pounded. She stared at her hand wondering how she was supposed to transform and what exactly that meant. “Am I the Yee Naaldlooshii, the Skinwalker?”
“Among other things.”
“Do you want me to transform into Atahk?”
“You were born with the ability to be whatever you wish. As the Skinwalker, you may only choose one animal identity to pair up with while embroiled in battle. Until that battle is over, you may not use another. You must choose wisely.”