"Let me." The man took it before she could pick it up. He reached a hand to help her to her feet.
Little Raccoon ignored his hand, then wished she'd ignored her pride instead as dizziness swept through her. She swayed. The man caught her before she could fall.
"I'm fine." She pushed away though she had relished the feel of his hard warm chest against her cheek.
"Sure you are." He smiled down at her.
His hand caressed her cheek as she lost herself in the waters of his eyes. Something was hidden behind that blue, something that called to her. She was connected with this man, this stranger. Maybe she had met him. She had lost her memory of many things. Was he a part of that past?
"Who are you?" Little Raccoon asked. She settled her clothing more securely about her and started on the path to the village. The sun was high in the sky. She was surprised that no one had come looking for her.
"I am called," he hesitated for a scant second, "Walks With The Wind."
Little Raccoon nodded. "Do I know you?"
The path narrowed. Walks With The Wind's warm breath sent shivers up the back of her neck. She turned around to find he'd vanished. Almost as soon as she thought it, he reappeared through a break in the trees. He carried a bow, a quiver of arrows, and a skin pack.
"Why do you think you might know me? Am I so forgettable then?" Walks With The Wind countered as if no break in their conversation had occurred.
She blushed and was glad he could not see her face. No woman could forget such a man. "I had a fall last summer and hurt my head. Since then I have been unable to remember many things. I wondered if I knew you but had forgotten."
He didn't respond. They neared the village. Little Raccoon felt that she must know the answer to this before they arrived. After that she would have little chance to question him in private. As she paused on the path his skin brushed hers bringing with it the warm, slightly musky scent of the man and sending a thread of un-looked for desire racing through her.
Though she stood tall for a woman of her people, she had to tilt her head back to look into Walks With The Wind's face. It showed a granite-like inscrutability. Again she tried to find the truth of him.
"Do you know me? Please I must know. There is such an emptiness inside where the memories used to be." She hadn't intended to plead but that's how the question emerged. For a heartbeat it seemed he would answer, then the rushing sound of footsteps came towards them. The chance was lost.
"Cousin! Little Raccoon!"
A small boy with bare feet was upon them. Little Raccoon turned her attention to the youngster.
"Dancing Feet, you sound like a herd of deer running from the wild cat. If you ever hope to be a great hunter like your father you must practice the art of feather walking."
The boy nodded, his face red with exertion and embarrassment.
"Yes, Little Raccoon, I will try." He threw a strangely grown-up look at Walks With The Wind. "Who is this?"
"Do not be rude, child. This is Walks With The Wind. He saved me from the wrath of the water monster and brought me back from the world beyond this."
Dancing Feet's eyes grew wide. "Are you a god?" he asked with a brashness that often got him into trouble.
Walks With The Wind laughed. His deep chuckle sent unaccountable thrills of delight through Little Raccoon. She struggled to hide the effect he had on her.
"I am just a man." Walks With The Wind became serious again. "Are you the nearest male kin to this woman?"
Dancing Feet stood taller at the question that would usually be asked of an adult. "I am her brother-cousin, Dancing Feet. Will you honor us with your company?"
So, he did know his manners, Little Raccoon mused at the formality of his words.
"I am the one who is honored," Walks With The Wind replied. The path widened. Though the three could have walked abreast, Dancing Feet chose to lead the other two. As Walks With The Wind fell into step next to Little Raccoon, he winked before settling his features into an expression more fitting to the occasion.
Dancing Feet managed to maintain his dignity until they were spotted at the edge of the village. He might have retained it even longer if a horde of younger children hadn't rushed up to the little group. Their alternating questions and sometimes hostile glances at Walks With The Wind got Dancing Feet to explain the situation. Soon he was recounting the story of Walks With The Wind saving Little Raccoon from the water monster with all the embellishments of an accomplished storyteller. Even Little Raccoon was starting to believe him when a hush fell on the group.
"Who is this stranger you have brought to our village?"
Fleet of Foot, accompanied by the other elders, gathered close to the children.
In the weltering confusion of her feelings for Walks With The Wind, to say nothing of her run in with the "Lake Monster," Little Raccoon had forgotten that strangers were often a source of danger to her people. She glanced at Walks With The Wind and wondered if he knew the danger he was in. His stance was relaxed yet poised to act.
Again Dancing Feet told the tale, this time with fewer additions. Tension filled the glade where the wigwams were centered. To accept or reject the man and the story could mean life or death. It could cause war or bring a lasting peace with whichever tribe he belonged to.
After hearing Dancing Feet, Fleet of Foot conferred with the others. During this time the entire village encircled them. Little Raccoon noticed the admiring glances several of the young women threw at Walks With The Wind. Not only was he a curiosity, but a handsome strong looking one at that. Any woman who didn't look twice was either dead or not yet two winters old.
It was Shining Rock's reaction that took Little Raccoon most by surprise. Her sister's look of shocked recognition sharpened Little Raccoon's senses in a way that nothing else could.
Shining Rock knew this man.
Her introspection ended as her father spoke.
"We thank you for saving my daughter's life. Will you stay and honor us with your presence?"
Walks With The Wind nodded and went with the men to the central fire pit. There he was offered food and drink and the smoking plant as the men settled down to talk. News was a word of mouth affair. They were eager to know what went on outside the confines of their own village. This newcomer, with clothes and hair that resembled their own but not quite the same, surely would have something to tell.
Little Raccoon lost no time in following Shining Rock into their wigwam. She found her sister sitting on her bed furs, staring into space.
"Who is he, Sister?" Little Raccoon began without preamble. "You have seen him before and he is the man whose face haunts my dreams. Please, you must tell me."
Shining Rock did not answer yet the bemused stare left her face. Now she looked at Little Raccoon as if seeing her clearly after a long dark night.
"He is familiar to me, Little Raccoon. I must confer with our aunt before I tell you more."
Little Raccoon let go of enough of her pride to say, "Sister, he is the one who touches my soul. I feel that I have known him for more years than I have lived. You cannot hurt me with your knowledge. Please tell me."
Shining Rock shook her head and left Little Raccoon standing alone in the shelter.
Her head ached. She struggled to push the pain aside. Whoever Walks With The Wind was, or had been to her, today he was an honored visitor to her village. It would be her duty to serve him at the evening meal. She must prepare by learning to control the strong attraction she felt whenever he was near. She took the cattail roots outside and began to clean them, ignoring the curious looks turned her way.
* * * *
"Aunt, it is him," Shining Rocks whispered. She and Plant Growing Woman were picking strawberries in a sun-warmed glade a short distance from the village. Far enough away for a private talk, but close enough to call for help if needed. Densely growing trees and verdant brush screened them from view, yet also prevented them from seeing anyone who might approach on silent feet.
; "Him? The one from last year?" Plant Growing Woman understood whom Shining Rock meant immediately. "How? Why did he come?"
"If he is a god, perhaps he is looking for a wife among us. This is the second time he has sought out Little Raccoon. Perhaps he has chosen her?"
"Your sister has finished her time of mourning for Young Buck. Your father was to speak to her of it tonight. I know several men who would be honored to share their fire with Little Raccoon. What could it mean to the village for Little Raccoon to be a wife to Walks With The Wind?" Plant Growing Woman stopped all pretense of picking fruit and sat on a warm rock.
"Perhaps she would leave us to live with his people. Or if he is a god, to go to wherever it is the gods live."
Shining Rock joined her aunt, neither of them were aware of the stealthy movements in the bushes behind, nor did they feel the burning of a hostile gaze on their backs. The listener cocked his ears and drank in the conversation.
"First we must determine if he is a man or a god. Until then we must make every effort not to anger him. I've heard that one who angers a god could bring misfortune to a whole village," Plant Growing Woman said. Her concern was not only for her older niece, but the fate of her people might ride on what they learned.
"How does one do that, Aunt?" Shining Rock asked. "If he is a god in disguise perhaps he does not want to be found out. It might even anger him if we knew."
"From my understanding of the winter stories, these gods have egos to match their powers. No, he wouldn't be angered by that. Perhaps we should just ask him."
"Our Shaman, Talks Much, can give us guidance."
Plant Growing Woman sniffed her disapproval.
Shining Rock continued, "He is our link to the spirit world Aunt. Even if you don't like him, he will know what to do."
"Maybe, maybe not. It is true that I don't like him. You are right that he knows more about spirits and gods than we do. I will speak with him," Plant Growing Woman decided. "Let's finish this picking and get back. We've been gone long enough."
Both women resumed their task. Neither was aware when the silent watcher left his hiding place and vanished into the forest's depths.
* * * *
Darien watched Melodi going about her business over the next several days. He enjoyed the way her deerskin garments enhanced her natural grace rather than hid it. As he hunted or fished with the men, became a part of the tribe, he could not stop watching her.
His interest did not go unnoticed.
"Her father has released her from her mourning. She is free to marry once more," Dancing Feet's father, Long Knife, told him one afternoon while they repaired a torn birchbark canoe.
"How did her husband die?" Darien asked. If it was common knowledge, if it played a part in helping Melodi regain her memory, he must know.
Long Knife paused and looked across the lake, as if gathering his thoughts. "Young Buck went hunting alone. He never returned. He was gone a year before we found the necklace he never took off his body. It lay along side his bloodied knife. We think a panther took him unawares."
"The village must have missed such a brave hunter," Darien ventured.
Long Knife grunted. "His wife kept the cooking pot full. My niece hunts as well as any man. She is a valuable asset. Young Buck never appreciated her."
"Will she marry again?" Darien wondered.
"That question is being asked all over camp by all the eligible men. Little Raccoon is still beautiful and strong and clever. Many men will seek her as his wife." Long Knife slapped Darien's back in a friendly manner. "I think this time, Little Raccoon will marry for different reasons. This time she will marry because she wishes to, not because she thinks she must. That is good. She deserves happiness."
The canoe repair was finished. "Come, Walks With The Wind, lets see if we sealed this properly. If we are lucky, we will find ducks for the evening meal."
The two men launched the lightweight craft and paddled swiftly over the ever-changing surface of the lake. Darien reveled in the sensuality of the life he was leading. The sun warmed his back while the breeze cooled his perspiring body. Muscles, long unused for anything but lifting weights at the gym, loosened and strengthened in the daily occupations that were necessary for survival.
With each passing day he felt his identity as Darien Stewart, country star, fade bit by imperceptible bit. In Walks With The Wind's skin and persona he was at home. This life agreed with him. He often wondered why he was so eager to return to his own century. He could woo and marry Melodi, Little Raccoon he corrected himself, and live here happily.
As that thought crossed his mind, Long Knife shouted, "Look, Brother Eagle flies in anger."
Indeed, the screaming eagle careened on a collision course with the canoe. Unless fishing the big birds rarely flew so low.
Darien knew what to do. This was Grandfather Larkfeather's spirit guide. It was angry with him. He knew that he must keep his thoughts on his task, of awakening Melodi and returning her to her place and time. His ruminations had disturbed the man who sat in communion with this great bird from centuries in the future. He must focus his thoughts on his task.
Concentrating hard in order to get the words out in English instead of the Abenaki version of the Algonquin language he'd been speaking, Darien dropped his paddle and raised his hands.
In an attitude of supplication he closed his eyes and said, "Grandfather, thank you for reminding me of my mission. I will obey the dictates of this spirit guide and bring Melodi home."
The great bird pulled up and swerved away at the last moment. Darien opened his eyes in time to see it shoot into the heavens and out of sight. He sighed, amazed at the amount of energy such concentration required.
Long Knife turned the canoe around and headed back to the village before Darien could pick up his paddle. He looked back once to make a joking comment about their returning to the village empty handed, but stopped at the expression on his friend's face. Awe and fear registered for the briefest moment as their eyes locked. Long Knife looked away and attended to this paddling with greater vigor, as if he couldn't reach shore fast enough.
An old man, older than Darien had ever seen, met them at the beach. From the respectful way people stood aside for him, Darien knew he must be the village shaman, Talks Much. The elderly man carried an aura about him that bespoke a kinship with the unseen world with which he supposedly communed.
As Long Knife leaped from the boat and splashed to the rocks Talks Much's deep voice reached out to Darien. "Why have you come among us, Wizard? We have done nothing to harm you."
"I am no wizard," Darien replied. Where did Talks Much get that idea?
"Only a wizard or a shaman of great magic could calm the great eagle as you did. The sound of your chanting was so powerful it reached us from across the lake. We saw Brother Eagle skim the waves. We watched you salute our brother and heard you speak in a strange tongue. Again I ask, what do you want here?"
Darien saw Melodi emerge from the gathering crowd. Though his concentration was focused on the shaman, he could tell that she wished to speak. Knowledge as well as fear showed in her eyes.
"I came in peace and I wish to live in peace, Grandfather," Darien infused his voice with the greatest respect. If he was to be allowed to stay in this village, he must regain the trust that he'd unconsciously bruised.
"Wizards are known to be cunning and sly," the shaman countered. "How do we know that you speak the truth? You might be a spy for our enemies."
The crowd gasped at this accusation. They were a peaceful people but were not immune to warfare when hunting grounds were at risk.
"No, Grandfather. My people speak your tongue. We live closer to the Big Water yet we share your stories and live as you do. I came to learn about you so that our tribes might forge an alliance. When my people and yours meet at the sand by the Big Water later this summer, you will see."
As he spoke, Darien knew that as Walks With The Wind he spoke the truth. In a flash of light he encount
ered memories of his Indian family that lived far to the east of here. His mission was to find and make friends with as many of the related people he could find. The details were sketchy; perhaps they would clarify with time. For now, he hoped sincerity came through in his words.
The shaman spoke to the elders who had gathered behind him. Graceful as a swan, Little Raccoon glided to the water's edge and held the canoe steady, a silent invitation for Darien to disembark. She whispered to him as he stepped out.
"The words you spoke, I have heard some like them before."
Her worried gazed pierced him. He saw panic reflected in her eyes. Before he could respond, Talks Much spoke again.
"Walks With The Wind may stay among us. But, if you truly wish no harm to come to us, you must refrain from speaking to anymore spirits until we are assured of your tale. Let us hope no misfortune descends on us, for we will know who is responsible."
The not so subtle threat brought another gasp from the crowd. Rudeness was not tolerated to strangers, yet the shaman had just insulted this man. Until now, Walks With The Wind had been considered an honored guest. If he was a powerful wizard or even a shaman from a different tribe, perhaps Talks Much had made an enemy.
Darien ignored the implication. It served no purpose for him to further alienate these people. Instead he held his weapon hand out, empty in the universal sign of peace and goodwill.
"I will live among you as one of your own. Perhaps you will permit me a guide, a mentor, so that I do not break any taboos or violate any customs of yours that may differ from mine. I have no wish to cause you harm or to make you uncomfortable."
This request caused another quick counsel. Before the elders had a chance to discuss Walks With The Wind's words, a voice, light as a zephyr yet firm, spoke.
"I will teach Walks With The Wind our ways." Little Raccoon blushed as the crowd turned to her, but she stood resolute.
Chapter Eleven
"Your aunt and your sister are unhappy with this arrangement," Walks With The Wind observed. He sat with Little Raccoon on a log around the communal fire watching her grind dried berries to add to the dried meat for their journey food.
Melodis Tune Page 10