by Vella Munn
Not every sound came from the coyotes or the wind as it made its way around the rocks. Another—
Motionless, she studied the great sweep of land, pulled the wild wind into her lungs, absorbed the cry of unseen carnivores, wished she were hearing a wolf instead.
Not a wolf, but something—something so close that it forced a shiver down her spine. Tears dampened her cheeks, and she would have prayed if she'd known whom to pray to.
Black Wolf? Where are you?
With every step she took, her memory of what he'd shared with her about Humqaq grew. This was where men came to pray to their spirit, to seek their connection with the great and mysterious worlds of today and of their ancestors.
'Alapay, world of the Gods of the Moon and Sun, home for the First People.
'Itiashup, the earth, which was suspended between the upper and lower worlds and surrounded by a great sea.
C'oyinashup, which was the realm of dark beings.
Both proud and more than a little shocked by her recall, she cocked her head and listened until she was certain she'd found where the disembodied howl was coming from. Possibly the wind was responsible for the sound; she hoped that was it, because she was in no condition to see anyone or absorb any more than she already had.
Reminding herself that any warrior, including one with hatred for what she represented burning inside him, might be here, she took as much care as possible to remain hidden. The boulders were damp from spray, the dampness so pervasive that she half-believed it had penetrated the rocks' core. That plus the wind made movement dangerous, but she couldn't make herself turn around and leave.
Pausing for breath, she studied her surroundings. Because of the way the granite outcroppings ahead were positioned, it was impossible to see more than twenty or thirty feet. She had no doubt that she was close to the ocean,-maybe dangerously so, but that didn't matter, because she'd just identified a new sound—clear and fast with rumbling undertones. She realized she was listening to water, not the pounding of waves but similar to it.
Driven by a force she couldn't begin to fathom, she approached the boulders that might house the just-heard sound, only then seeing the thin trail that appeared to lead around the rocks. When she tried to take a calming breath, she found she'd clamped her hand over her mouth. A trail? It must have been made by animals, she started to tell herself. And yet, before the thought was fully formed, she accepted that that wasn't it at all.
She'd found where other human beings had walked.
Both afraid and excited beyond any comprehension, she placed her foot on the trail and began following it. The direction she now walked was taking her closer to the rumbling and unseen water.
After a few minutes, she realized the trail was leading her on an almost leisurely journey around the boulders. Now that they were between her and the ocean, she was somewhat protected from the wind, but that didn't improve her ability to draw a mental image of what she was hearing. The water seemed to be laughing, and the howl, or whatever it was, had merged with it, enriching it and chilling her.
When finally she found herself at the highest elevation, she wrapped her arms around her waist and stared out at the distant and hot-burning sun, which would soon begin its nightly descent. Feeling small and alone in a vastness beyond comprehension, she had no idea where she'd spend the night because she couldn't think beyond this moment. What had first looked like a flat area turned out to have a small crater in the middle of it. Walking over to it, she discovered it wasn't a crater after all but a hole large enough for a person to climb into and so deep she couldn't see to its bottom. So little light reached it that at first she wasn't sure what she was looking at, just that the water sounds came from somewhere deep in the shadows.
Dropping to her knees, she leaned forward as far as she dared. Black Wolf had told her that a stream emptied out into the ocean at this point but that it ran underground for a while before spilling out in a sheltered waterfall. In part because the coastline was so rugged, he'd said, its location remained unknown to all except those who understood its sacredness.
She'd found it, been drawn to it by something she couldn't comprehend.
The moisture now spraying onto her wasn't salty and must come from the stream as it burst out of its prison. Because her eyes had adjusted to the shadows, she saw that the waterfall ended in a deep, serene pool. Only when she'd pinpointed where the small stream broke through the rocks did she notice the sturdy rope secured to a nearby boulder at the opposite side of the hole. Its loose end hung over the edge and ended just above the pool. A number of knots, probably handholds, had been tied into the rope.
Looking around, she strained to discover who might be responsible for the rope, but she'd been here long enough to believe no one shared the rocky cliff with her.
But down there—
A shiver of something that wasn't quite fear shot through her because, despite the gloom, she could now make out a dark shadow in the middle of the pool. The shape moved, took on human form, was responsible for the howling.
Backing away, she fought the instinct to leave the stranger with what had to be his prayers, but she'd come so far and had so many questions.
By stretching out on the ground and turning her head to the side, she was better able to hear the stranger's prayer. A man, she determined. The stranger below was a man. Every fiber in her wanted it to be Black Wolf, but he wasn't the only warrior who replenished himself here. Her father and the other soldiers insisted all wild Indians ,were killers. If they were right and this wasn't Black Wolf, her life might be in danger, but then... the mission offered no protection for her.
Her stomach rumbled, but when she took in as much air as her lungs could hold, that seemed to fill her. She would wait here a little longer, wait and watch, and as long as the praying, chanting warrior remained where he was, she would be safe.
Wouldn't she?
Suddenly the wind threw an unexpectedly large amount of moisture at her. Enough reached her eyes that her vision blurred and she was forced to rub them until she could see again. For an instant she couldn't find the figure in the pool, and then—
He'd got Out of the water and stood on a small ledge no more than two feet above the pool, staring up at her. She couldn't make out his features and had no way of knowing whether hatred filled his eyes. He was unarmed, naked, his body and long black hair streaming moisture.
Still looking up at her, the man lifted his arms and squeezed water out of his hair. He used his hands to wipe his body dry; nothing about the way he conducted himself gave any indication that he was uncomfortable with his nakedness, and it seemed right to her, primitive but right.
She wasn't sure, but it seemed that he'd cocked his head to one side as if listening to something. Following his lead, she did the same.
The sound began as a deep whisper, grew in strength, spread, faint and yet powerful, part of the earth and yet somehow separate.
Wolf.
Resisting the need to look around, she instead studied the warrior's reaction. He'd again lifted his arms, but this time he didn't stop until they were outspread above his head. He seemed to be swaying; either that or it was she who couldn't remain still. When his howl drifted upward, she felt as if she could reach out and touch it, but before she could make the decision to try, it had slid past her and up into the sky. It should have stopped echoing by now, shouldn't it? There was nothing to hold it, nothing for it to bounce off, and yet it remained.
Became part of the sound coming from the unseen wolf.
Standing, she looked around, but although the predator howl was repeated over and over again and answered each time, she couldn't see anything. Finally, numb and rawly alive at the same time, she turned her attention back to the pool.
The warrior hadn't moved and she wondered if he was capable of remaining with his arms outstretched forever. It shouldn't be any easier to make out his features than it had been before, and maybe her mind was painting something that didn't exist, b
ut she believed she was looking into large black eyes that had locked on her and were asking her to believe.
To believe what?
The warrior's arms slid slowly to his side, and then, without looking down at what he was doing, he picked up something that had been lying on the ledge and tied it around his waist, rendering him no longer naked. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the hanging rope and pulled it close to him. Then, seemingly effortlessly, he climbed up to her.
Black Wolf.
"You came," he said once he was standing beside her. Despite his attempts to dry himself, his flesh still glistened and his hair stuck to his back. He seemed only half-human, as if he might disappear at any moment.
"I... I..." Swallowing, she tried again. "If I shouldn't be here, please tell me."
"My prayers are over."
"This is Humqaq, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes."
"It's incredible. Beautiful. Black Wolf, I heard, not just you but something else."
His features seemed to contract, but she couldn't read his reaction. "Not something, Lucita," he said after a minute. "Wolf Spirit."
"Wolf Spirit." She concentrated on taking a breath and in the act discovered that she wasn't ready for the ramifications.
He adjusted his scrap of clothing un-self-consciously. "Do you want to speak of why you are here?"
"No. Not yet. Maybe..."
"Then I will not ask."
Thank you. "You scattered my father's horses, didn't you? They said it might have been a grizzly, but—"
"Yes, it was me. And then I watched while they foolishly tried to find our village. Being around them soiled me, and before I return to my people, my family, I must make myself clean again."
"Black Wolf, our beliefs are so different," she said. "For you to worship a wolf—"
"I do not worship Wolf. He is my spirit."
She didn't understand the difference but wanted to. In the few minutes they'd been standing here, the world around them had changed, and now his dark features were painted a subtle red as a result of the setting sun. Everything, she included, carried the same hue, and no matter how much separated them, the sun touched them in the same way; she would never forget that.
"I will tell you this," he went on, "because I feel your heart's hunger."
"Tell me what?"
"About Humqaq."
She started to nod when realization slammed into her. Even before the Chumash could properly comprehend what it meant to be taken into the Church, they were baptized, called neophytes, and expected to work for the glory of that church. In contrast, Black Wolf had waited for her to be ready.
Looking around, she spotted a fairly smooth boulder and sat on it. Black Wolf chose one that placed him in such a position that light from the setting sun spilled over him. According to her mother, the devil constantly placed temptation before God's children, and men, being the stronger, were capable of forcing their will on women. But she could sit alone with Black Wolf and not be afraid.
"This is our belief." His words were accented, reminding her that Spanish wasn't his native language. "Three days after a Chumash dies, his soul comes out of the grave in the evening. That soul first comes to Humqaq, because it has always been where new life enters the world and where that life returns at death. Our ancestors never came here, because they believed the spirits would be disturbed. Instead, they stopped at Shawil and made sacrifices to honor the dead."
"What changed that?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "The enemy."
"You mean the Spanish."
He nodded. "The ancient ways were becoming mist. Families were being torn apart, and the old people were no longer there to teach the children about where they came from. My grandfather and his father, along with other men, heeded the messages from Kakunupmawa, which said it was time for the Chumash to see the footprints of our ancestors."
"Footprints? In the sand? But the sea washes that away, doesn't it?"
"Not in the sand. In the rocks."
Her head pounded. "How is that possible?"
"It is not for us to question the way of our gods. Do you ask why your God says one thing or another is a sin?"
"Not if it's in the Bible."
"Ha! Your Bible is words from ancient ones written on talking leaves. Our ancient ones spoke in other ways."
"And... and some of what they said or did was in the form of footprints in rocks?" she asked in confusion.
"They are marks left behind by the spirits of the first women and children. It is there that the spirits of those who have just died come to bathe and paint themselves. Then they see a light to the west, which guides them to the land of Shimilaqusha. There are no words in your language for that. It is in my heart." He tapped his chest. "And in the hearts of all who believe."
Close to tears, she blinked repeatedly.
"Look around you." Straightening, he swept his gaze over their surroundings. "The spirits of our ancestors are everywhere. We do not need to see them to believe in their existence. When my son is ready, he will open his heart and mind and eyes and ears and take those things into him."
Suddenly weak, she rocked forward and rested her head in her hands. Her head felt as if it were about to explode and she desperately needed to run, but where? Why?
"What is it?" he asked.
But she couldn't answer.
Chapter 18
"Does your father know where you are?"
"No."
Black Wolf waited for her to say more, but Lucita remained silent. At his prompting, they'd returned to lower ground and collected her horse. He'd gone through her pick and given her the last of her dried fruit, but although she chewed dutifully, she seemed to have no awareness of what she was doing. Rarely one of the old people lost the ability to make decisions and others guided the person through his or her declining years, but Lucita was too young for that.
"He will look for you," Black Wolf said, hoping to prompt her to think of the consequences of her actions.
"No, he won't. He left for the presidio."
Alarmed, he grabbed her elbows. "Why? Tell me!"
"Do you have to ask?"
"No. I do not." Releasing her, he stood and walked into the night. He should be asking if her father had spoken of how long he'd be gone and how many men he hoped to bring back with him or whether there'd been talk of another attempt to find his village, but he couldn't put his mind to anything except her. "Why have you told me this?"
"I don't know! I don't know what's happening to me, why I feel the way I do, why I want..."
What she'd just said made little sense, but he didn't ask for an explanation. Instead, knowing a great deal remained inside her, he returned to her side and stood with her while gulls called to each other and the sea continued its ageless assault on the shore.
"I have to go back," she said dully. "Be there when he returns."
"Why?"
"What else is there for me?"
* * *
Black Wolf slept little during the night and suspected rest came no easier for Lucita, but while she must be thinking about what would happen between her and her father when they were in each other's presence again, it was different for him.
His concern was for her welfare, yes, but it was more than that; he was a man too long without his wife's presence, and Lucita's body spoke of health and loneliness for something he sensed she had no understanding of. She needed him to listen to her and keep her from being alone for these few hours, nothing else; he struggled to remember that.
Finally darkness gave way to morning. He'd just finished sending his thoughts to his ancestors when he caught her staring at him.
"Why did you stay with me?" she asked, her voice carrying no hint of sleepiness.
Because you are different from anyone else I have ever known. Because you have taken me out of myself and into your heart and mind.
"Perhaps I want to make you promise to tell me what you learn after your father returns," he
said instead.
Her response was to fold her hands tightly together. "What if he doesn't tell me anything?"
"I wish it was different for you, Lucita, but I cannot change what is."
"No, you can't."
"We will travel together until it is time for us to go our separate ways," he told her. "And if you wish, we will not speak."
The way she stared at him puzzled him, but she only nodded. Silent, they went about the task of getting ready to leave. He wanted her to ride so she could conserve her strength, but she seemed to need to walk.
Summer's wilting heat waited on the horizon, warning him to cover as much ground as possible before afternoon sapped them. When he pointed in a slightly different direction from the one she'd started on, she frowned but didn't argue. He'd chosen a trail that followed a higher elevation because the occasional trees and hills would provide them with welcome shade and allow him to see before he was seen. He tried to put his mind on when he would be with his son again, their shared love and laughter, but Lucita was too close and her impact too great for the thought to hold.
Instead, he simply walked beside her until a distant movement caught his attention. A quick glance at Lucita told him she'd seen it, too. Stopping, he shaded his eyes, but even when the truth of it could no longer be questioned, he continued to stare.
"A wolf," Lucita whispered.
"Yes,"
"Do we have anything to fear from it?"
"Not this one," was all he could say.
After signaling her to remain where she was, he went on ahead; despite the heat, he shivered. He wanted to look back at Lucita and somehow convince himself that she hadn't seen Wolf, his Wolf, but he didn't try because he knew different.
Unable to concentrate on anything except the meeting to come, he slowly and reverently approached the dark beast. The animal regarded him with eyes as bright as moonlight on fresh snow. His coat was sleek and full and showed no signs of his having survived years in the wilderness. Maybe he breathed' maybe he was beyond such mortal needs.
I approach you, my spirit. Approach with my heart hammering within me and my mind filled to overflowing. I do not understand. You have always been in my dreams, my thoughts, showed yourself to me during my vision quest, but this...