Melodis Tune

by Melodi's Tune (NCP) (lit)

  Sadness pierced her as she realized that soon Shining Rock would be wife to Tall Cedar. Loneliness filled an empty space inside her. She pushed it out. She was happy that her sister had found a man good and kind. It didn't hurt that he was a skilled hunter as well. Now was time to celebrate, she grabbed her bone knife and went to join the other women in preparing the evening meal.

  The wind blew soft, though chill, as the band ate together around the communal fire. Tonight all gave thanks to the deer who had offered its life so that the people might eat.

  Little Raccoon saw the covert glances Shining Rock exchanged with Tall Cedar. The young brave spoke with appropriate humility about his hunt. The thanks of the group rewarded him. Shining Rock kept her eyes averted though Little Raccoon could see her satisfaction.

  After the meal the elders crowded into the wigwam of Little Raccoon's uncle, Fighter of the Wildcat. Fighter of the Wildcat was the sagamore of the group. Little Raccoon followed them at the urging of her aunt, whose company she always enjoyed.

  "Hunting has grown scarce in this protected place," Fighter of the Wildcat was saying as Little Raccoon entered the enclosed space. She worked her way as unobtrusively as possible to where her aunt sat. "The wind blows from the south. Let us depart to the shores of Sebasticook Lake so that when the ice melts we will be there already to fish and prepare for the summer journey to the Great Salt Water."

  Nods of assent rippled among the others. "Yes, the winter is nearly gone," Fleet of Foot, Little Raccoon's father said. "It will be good to travel to our spring camp once more."

  The small band always camped on the shores of the large pond between the two rivers in the spring and fall. There they set their weirs, fish traps, at the outlets of the two rivers in order to catch fish. Ducks and geese nested there as well as other birds. Both shore and water abounded with all that the people needed.

  This smaller band joined with others at the lake. As they moved along the riverways to the shores of the Great Salt Water, other small bands would join them. At the shore at last, the whole tribe would be together. The summer gathering was a great social event in the life of the tribe. It was a time for feasting and sharing of winter tales, a time of selecting a mate from a more distant village, as they labored to harvest the bounty of the sea. The season was eagerly awaited.

  The conversation inside the warm wigwam moved to the details of the journey. Little Raccoon spoke softly with her aunt. Since her mother had died several winters earlier, Little Raccoon had felt closer than ever to her mother's sister, Plant Growing Woman. The bond between them had grown stronger after Little Raccoon's accident and subsequent loss of memory last summer.

  "I think the courting flute will play soon outside our wigwam, Aunt," Little Raccoon said.

  "Ah, a handsome young hunter has caught your eye at last?"

  Little Raccoon blushed. "No, Aunt, my mourning time is not yet up. This hunter only has eyes for Shining Rock and she for him. Haven't you noticed?"

  "Who wouldn't? I was teasing, Little One. Perhaps you will find a handsome man of your own at the summer gathering. I sense that the deep sadness is not yet gone. You are lonely child, even in the midst of your loving family."

  "I have no reason to be lonely," Little Raccoon reassured her aunt. "Perhaps with the return of the geese and the touch of warm sun on my skin the dreams will fly away."

  Plant Growing Woman touched her niece's cheek. "Off with you child, tomorrow we prepare to leave. There will be much work to do."

  "Good night Aunt." Little Raccoon hugged Plant Growing Woman and her uncle, and then she left the tent.

  For a moment Little Raccoon stood in the chill night air and took in the sight of the village surrounding her. She should feel safe and at home here. These were her people, her life. Why was she not content?

  She shivered in the light of the half-moon now rising over the hills. Something called to her, in her heart, in her mind. It waited for her at the lake. A face swam in her minds-eye, half-remembered and compelling. The blue of his eyes mocked all she knew. Her people had brown eyes. Perhaps it was the face of an elf or spirit that haunted her. She felt that she would see it again soon.

  As she entered the wigwam she shared with her sister and father she took care to be quiet. In the glow of the fire's last embers Little Raccoon could just make out Shining Rock's sitting form. She crossed to her sister to speak but stopped at the sound that came from the rear of the wigwam.

  Outside behind their shelter, a flutist played. For a second the hairs on Little Raccoon's neck stood up. A memory, faint but insistent, stirred at the first few notes. Just as a form started to take shape in her imagination, it shifted. She realized who the unseen flutist must be.

  Shining Rock rose from her place and glided to the opening without a glance at Little Raccoon. Little Raccoon knew how long Shining Rock had waited for this night. Tall Cedar must feel he'd made enough good impressions not only on their father but on the rest of the village as well. The time was right to woo Shining Rock and start on the path towards becoming man and wife. From the shimmer of reflected starshine in Shining Rock's eyes, Little Raccoon knew her sister had found a happy choice in her mate.

  In accordance with tradition, everyone but the two involved parties pretended to ignore the ritual being enacted. Though in truth probably many had known this would happen for quite some time. Little Raccoon smiled and lay down on her pallet of furs. It would be a while before Shining Rock returned to the wigwam.

  Little Raccoon had difficulty going to sleep. Her mind raced from the intricacies of a basket she was working on to details required for the move to the lake. It was that move which alternately bothered her and called to her. Waiting destiny filled her heart whenever she thought of that location by the lake. She closed her eyes and tried to bring a picture of it to her mind. Her inability to remember anything about the site frustrated her.

  After her accident last summer the village had moved to various fall and winter camps. She had never come back to herself until after that time. Most of the lakeshores were lined alternately with large gray boulders and cattail swamps. She tried to bring up a memory. Instead a white bird swam across her closed eyelids. It swam faster than any duck or loon she had ever seen. It was huge. Its wake washed the shore in waves of water. A wide meadow stretched toward a large white structure that had many shining eyes that twinkled in the sun, like the bits of mica in a piece of rock.

  Little Raccoon wanted to reach out to that place. It didn't frighten her; she was drawn to it.

  A breath of cold air washed over her. The vision blew away. The covering over the entryway pulled back. Against the starlit night Little Raccoon saw her sister's silhouette. Shining Rock glided to her sleeping furs and crawled under them. Their father grunted once and rolled over in his sleep. The cozy space once again surrounded Little Raccoon with love and security.

  It was foolish to reach for an unknown man in a dream. She had all she needed here.

  But she knew he was out there, somewhere. The soul-deep love of a true mating was where he was. She ached for it, feared it. She wasn't sure she could live an empty life without it.

  Once again Little Raccoon closed her eyes for sleep. The next thing she knew, the morning sun was filtering through the smoke hole.

  The whole camp moved with a sense of purpose today. This was no day for planning an elaborate hunt or for looking for late winter roots. Today everyone was employed in dismantling wigwams and packing food for their trek. It was a seven-day walk to the lake. Now that a decision had been made, everyone was anxious to get to their new location.

  Warm sunshine fought with winter sharp winds as dogs and children competed for sticks and bones as their companions and elders struck camp. By the time the sun rose to its highest point in the sky, they were ready to leave.

  The poles and bark of the wigwams were left for their return next year, or for some other traveler's use. Furs, food baskets, hides being worked, and other belongings were strap
ped onto sledges that would be dragged over the snow. Each member of the tribe carried a pair of snowshoes to wear when the snow got deep, as it surely would sometime during their journey.

  By the time they reached the shores of Sebasticook Lake they were glad of the extra furs and the snowshoes. Two days out from the winter camp a blizzard fell on them with all the fury of deep winter. Families helped each other to erect temporary shelters. The wigwams huddled together like old women around a fire.

  In two days the storm blew itself out, leaving five feet of drifted snow in it's wake. All rejoiced. Instead of cursing the snow, they made use of it. The sledges and snowshoes moved with ease over the new snow. Instead of slowing them down, they traveled faster.

  Two days out from their destination the weather took another turn. Snow melted, trees budded overnight, and the ground turned to mud beneath their feet.

  "The sap is rising, Sister," Shining Rock exclaimed to Little Raccoon that morning. "Come, let's go with our aunt to collect some. It's been a long time since the last cube of maple sugar melted on my tongue."

  Little Raccoon smiled at Shining Rock's childish glee. Collecting sap and boiling it down to syrup and sugar always marked the beginning of spring for them. Perhaps she should take it as a sign that she could also begin anew. She urged her heart to lighten with the sunshine as she followed her sister into the hardwood grove.

  * * * *

  The spring freshet was over. The days lengthened and warmed towards summer. In the woods and on the water, Little Raccoon's people harvested the bounty that surrounded them. Always giving thanks to the Creator, always giving something back to that which nourished them. The lake rippled from the paddles wielded by travelers to and from the rivers that emptied into and ran from the lake.

  In meadows, the people wielded bone and wooden hoes, busy planting the small quantities of corn and squash the tribe grew. At the weirs, fish seemed to give themselves to the waiting people. It was before the time of the tiny black flies that could be a plague. The weather was glorious.

  Little Raccoon stood at the edge of the lake and took it all in. Her efforts to brighten her mood had been partially successful. She was able to keep her loneliness to herself except at moments like this when she could be assured of being alone with her thoughts.

  Her task today -- digging cattail tubers. When scraped and roasted in the fire they made a delicious addition to the evening stew. The tall plants grew in abundance on this particular stretch of shoreline. Little Raccoon set her basket on a stone and unwrapped the deerskin skirt from her waist. The sun caressed her bare skin then shivered away as the cool lake water took over.

  A splash of water caught Little Raccoon's attention. She saw an eagle. It rose from the water's surface carrying a large fish whose scales seemed to drip liquid fire. The great bird flew to the large tangle of its nest.

  An eagle is a good sign. She returned to her task.

  The footing was tricky here. It alternated between squishy mud and hard stones. Pulling her basket on the surface of the lake, she had reached the shelter of the cattails when a ripple of water touched her. A tremor moved through her. She recalled the tale the storyteller told around the evening fire about the monster that lived in lakes, dragging unwary victims to their death. She shrugged off her unease. It was a story for children. Besides, she swam well.

  A loon popped to the surface some fifty feet from her. Little Raccoon let go her held breath. Brother Loon was the source of the wavelets.

  She grabbed a good-sized plant. The tough cattail stalk resisted her pull, then gave in. Little Raccoon began to fill her basket, singing to while away the time. Her hands moved quickly and efficiently as she thought ahead to other tasks awaiting her.

  She moved her foot and lost her balance. An unseen hole sucked her under. She didn't have a chance to scream for help before her head disappeared beneath the silvery surface of the lake.

  Little Raccoon struggled to free her foot but found it lodged in place by a rock. Her eyes opened in the murky water. As she felt the last of her life's breath leave her body the beauty of the sun turning the cloudy water into a living thing mesmerized her.

  She wasn't ready to give up. One more yank -- she had enough strength for that. No use. She railed against the unfairness as she gasped for air. Instead of air, she breathed in lake water.

  It was darker now. She was so tired. Soon she would rise to the sky and become a star. She stopped struggling. Darkness descended.

  * * * *

  Darien watched her from the shadows, enjoying the graceful movements she made through the water, the way it sparkled and glistened on the curves of her skin. He had waited here by the lakeshore for several weeks before Melodi's band had arrived.

  At the first sight of her he'd been ready to rush from his hiding place, but had stopped himself. Though he was drawn to her even more in this time, there was danger in simply taking her away. It appeared that she was fully assimilated into life here. He'd be seen as a threat. So he watched and bided his time, hoping to find Melodi alone so he could talk to her.

  He'd relied on skills and instincts he'd been unaware of possessing in order to survive. Where had he learned to walk silently on the forest floor? Or to set a snare, or tickle a fish out of water? He'd never been much of an outdoorsman. Even during their summers in Maine, the house provided for everything. Now he found a certain pleasure in building a fire or a shelter, or fashioning a bow and arrows. It was visceral, a natural part of him.

  He saw the eagle before Melodi turned to watch it. The eagle was Grandfather's spirit guide. Darien knew it to be a sign, but of what?

  With Melodi focused on her work, Darien took the opportunity to move closer. By the time he was hidden in the bank of reeds on the shore, her basket was nearly full.

  As soon as she stepped out of the water he would confront her. He blinked. When he looked again the only thing visible was her hand disappearing below the surface of the lake.

  "No." He jumped into the water.

  Darien swam as quickly as he could to the place where he'd seen her last. The basket remained floating on the surface, a marker on the ruffled waves. He filled his lungs with air and plunged beneath the surface. She'd been under too long.

  He spied her through the murk. One of her feet was jammed in a hole. He saw that a stone had rolled on top of it, probably jostled by her frantic movements. Her stillness gave him a shot of adrenaline that propelled him to where she was stuck.

  He pulled the rock from her foot and jerked her upwards in the same motion. Breaking the surface, Darien gasped for air then sought a purchase on the shifting floor of the lake.

  He tried not to think of her unresponsive form, tried not to think that now that he had found her again, he might lose her. He focused his mind on getting her to dry land. Mouth to mouth, that was it. He reached way back in his memory to a time when he'd learned the rescue technique in a swimming class.

  Melodi's body lay pale and unmoving on the greensward. Darien panicked.

  The eagle cried from the sky. As it circled about Darien's head, peace and purpose asserted themselves. He could do this. He had to.

  He turned Melodi's head and cleared her mouth of obstructions then checked for a pulse. It was weak and none to steady, but just feeling its slight flutter renewed Darien's resolve. Tipping her head back, he brought his lips to hers and gave her his breath, praying with each exhalation that she would breath on her own.

  Again and again he poured his life into her and checked for her response. After what seemed like an eternity she convulsed. She choked. Darien turned her onto her side as a gush of water poured from her mouth. Coughing and spluttering, Melodi vomited the lake water from her lungs and stomach as Darien looked up in silent thanks to the eagle who now drifted away.

  Her deerskin clothing was within reach. Darien covered her as he clamped down on the stir of desire rushing through him. His body remembered their last time together. Her passionate kisses and the look of acc
eptance in her eyes had confirmed what he was beginning to feel for her. They'd been given another chance.

  The basket full of tubers drifted to the shore. Darien reached for it as Melodi sat up. He turned to hand it to her, concern and desire warring in him. It was her look, devoid of recognition, that rocked his world. Before either said a word, it was clear in her velvet brown eyes that she did not know him.

  Wariness combined with pain and fatigue rushed across Melodi's mobile features. She seemed about to speak, reached out a hand to him, and fainted.

  Chapter Ten

  Blue eyes and brown water haunted Little Raccoon's dream. Both wanted to consume her. She didn't know which way to turn.

  With a start she woke up and found herself staring into the face of the blue-eyed man of her dreams. It was bright daylight. Why had she been dreaming? Who was this man?

  She remembered the cattails, the lake, the water rushing in, and darkness.

  "Am I dead?" It didn't seem such a strange thing to ask a dream spirit if she truly had died.

  His smile transformed his face from handsome to breathtaking. Little Raccoon was sure that only a spirit could be so handsome. She must be in the afterlife.

  "No, but you came close. I saw you go under and managed to pull you out in time."

  "You are not real," Little Raccoon insisted. "You inhabit my dreams." She pinched herself hard and heard his deep, almost familiar, laughter.

  "I'm very real, here, touch my hand."

  If the pinch had not convinced her the charge, akin to the crackling in the air after a lightning bolt pierced the sky, that leaped from his hand to hers convinced her. A flame began in her gut. His eyes reflected an answering heat.

  Good manners covered her confusion. "You saved my life. I am grateful. My father will want to meet you. You must return to my village with me." Her hands trembled as she reached for her basket.