"I will bring her back," he promised Fleet of Foot.
"You shall not go alone, Brother. You will need me to cover you back," Tall Cedar said.
"I am honored that you would accompany me, but your place is with Shining Rock."
"I am as close as a brother to Little Raccoon. Shining Rock would have it no other way."
"Then I am glad for your company."
Fleet of Foot handed Tall Cedar a bark container. "Journey food. We'll continue to the Salt Water. There we will meet your people, Walks With The Wind, and tell them what's happened. If you do not rejoin us after five suns, we'll return here to search for you."
As he gripped the older man's shoulder Darien felt the full import of his action. He had been entrusted with Little Raccoon's life.
The rain stopped, a weak sun shone through gray skies. Flying high, silhouetted against the clouds, the eagle flew. Silent yet encouraging -- watchful.
Darien's heart lightened. He'd find Little Raccoon and return her to her people or not return at all.
The day was half over. Somehow they had to find which direction Young Buck had gone before darkness fell.
"Up river or down, Spirit Brother. East or west, help me find the way to go." Darien closed his eyes and sent his prayer skyward. In a vision, he saw Little Raccoon stumbling along a narrow trail. A man whose features he could not make out dragged her behind him. The lay of the land showed itself. He saw Little Raccoon top a ridge. The view spread before her was also seen by him. His direction was clear. Young Buck headed back towards Sebasticook Lake.
When he opened his eyes Darien found himself encircled by the men. They eyed him with not a little awe. Only shamans and wizards spoke to spirits and walked in dreams while awake.
The eagle cried once then soared across the river and out of sight. The sound seemed to break the spell of silence. Each man helped launch the small canoe. Tall Cedar took the forward position. In this way he acceded the position of leader to Darien since the man in the rear steered the vessel, thus deciding the way to go.
"May the wind be at your back, and the trail rise to meet you," Fleet of Foot called.
The current carried them into the swiftest part of the stream quickly. Bending their muscles to the task, Darien and Tall Cedar made their way across. They would start their search on the further shore. From his vision Darien knew the landmarks he had seen would be most easily reached from that direction.
They almost arrived at the calmer waters near the opposite bank when Darien heard the canoe tear. A jagged hole gaped through the birchbark of the canoe, gray water poured through.
He had just enough time to call out, "I hope you can swim, Tall Cedar."
A strong eddy swirled the fragile craft into a whirlpool. He saw Tall Cedar thrown out of the canoe just before the dark water washed him over the side.
Down, down he was sucked until he his lungs felt like fire. At last, when he was sure he'd never know the light of day again, the pressure stopped. With the last of his strength he pulled for the surface.
"Ahhhh…." He gasped for air and struggled to get his bearings.
The whirlpool and crosscurrents had dragged him to a relatively calmer stretch of water close to the shore. Tall Cedar was nowhere to be seen.
Thrashing around and calling out, Darien's feet found the river bottom. Boulders, some as huge as a wigwam, were scattered about as if by a giant's hand. Water bubbled and hissed around the granite monoliths and reflected confusing images into his frantic eyes.
Where was Tall Cedar? Panic gripped him. At that moment, he saw a hand bobbing on the surface of the water.
"No." He threshed through the water until he reached his friend. An ugly gash marked Tall Cedar's forehead. His lips were blue when Darien finally pulled him onto the shore.
"Come on Tall Cedar, Shining Rock will have my hide if anything happens to you," Darien muttered as he felt for a pulse or heartbeat.
There, a weak fluttering met his fingers at Tall Cedar's neck. He lived but did not breathe. Darien performed mouth to mouth resuscitation. After what seemed like hours, Tall Cedar gagged. Darien managed to turn him onto his side just as he vomited up a stomach full of river water.
Chapter Seventeen
In the flickering light of Young Buck's torch, Melodi followed his commands. She gathered wood from one neatly stacked pile, tinder from a second, and began the arduous task of starting a fire.
When her tribe traveled, one member of each family kept an ember from the fire alive in a quahog shell. It saved time and effort when fire was needed at their next camp. Flint and ironstones were quick, too. The use of fire sticks, twirling or rubbing them together until a spark appeared, was a skill every youngster of the tribe learned. Their lives might depend on it someday. But it took a long time and great patience to get a blaze going this way.
Young Buck possessed neither quality.
"Faster woman." He kicked her from behind.
Melodi sat back on her haunches. Her life as Little Raccoon might be her savior right now in the ways of survival, but she'd be damned if she'd let this ignoramus bully her around.
"Listen, kick me again and I might kick you back. Got it?"
He stared at her in slack-jawed silence.
"Good. Now if you were in such a hurry to have a fire started, why didn't you save a hot coal? Even the youngest child knows how to do that. Oh, I forgot, you never had to learn such things, did you? First your parents allowed your every whim, then I did. Well, I'm not your slave anymore."
Turning her back to him was her second mistake. He grabbed her by her braided hair and pulled until her eyes watered. Rage, lust, and a dose of crazy fear stared out of his eyes while he spoke.
"You are what I say you are, my cook, my slave, and my whore. When I am done with your services, you will beg me to release you to death. But I will not. I will trade you to my new brothers for a woman more worthy of an important man such as myself."
He yanked her closer. Sweat beaded on his chest and swam in rivulets to his navel. "Your father has allowed you too much freedom since I left. He never forbade you to speak your mind. I will remedy that."
Young Buck cut a strip of leather from of Melodi's dress. Her struggles were useless; he was stronger than she. Soon her mouth was muzzled. He left her hands free to work.
Help me, sister. Melodi reached into the furthest reaches of her mind to resurrect more memories of Little Raccoon's life. Tears welled in her eyes as she relived the years with Young Buck, but tears would not help. There must be something she could use against him.
"Cook this." He threw a rabbit carcass at her.
Fine, if he wanted a slave, she would comply. For now. Maybe if she lulled him into a false sense of security she could trick him somehow.
He is not the same man you knew. Something has happened to change him, came an insistent thought.
It was true, she realized as her hands completed making the fire and fitting the now skinned rabbit over a makeshift spit. The Young Buck she had known had been brash and lordly, but at least he had respected the wishes of the tribal council and the elders. Something had happened to change him. Now, more than cruelty streaked his face. She had to get him talking about himself, find out why he left and where he had been. More importantly, who were these new brothers he spoke of?
First she had to get him to remove the gag.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. In her mind's eye she saw a man struggling under water.
Walks With The Wind, Little Raccoon shouted from inside her. Melodi slumped down. She remembered. The blue-eyed brave she fell in love with, he was in trouble. He must have started after her and now fought the water monster who caused the rapids to rise in the river.
She shook her head, that's Little Raccoon's fear. There are no monsters in the water.
Relief washed over her as her lungs accepted the air as Walks With The Wind's did. Then the vision left her. Walks With The Wind was coming for her.
She served Young Buck the cooked rabbit. Well, she meant to. It wasn't her fault that she tripped over a stone and the sizzling meat landed in his lap. That loincloth sure didn't offer much protection. She stifled a giggle as he hopped about and tried to cool the sensitive skin that had burned.
Melodi's glee, instigated by a combination of knowing that she was being sought after, and Young Buck's discomfit, was short lived. He turned his murderous gaze on her.
Why didn't I run when I had the chance? Hoping to catch him off guard, she bent as if to pick up the dropped food. Instead, she butted him in the stomach with her head. He doubled over at the unexpected attack. Melodi ran for the entrance.
If you can make it to the opening, we will be safe. We can cover our trail so he cannot find us, her Little Raccoon self assured her.
The darkness by the vine-covered entry was her undoing. As she heard Young Buck's running feet behind her, she saw his shadow thrown into huge relief by the flickering torch behind them. Little Raccoon screamed. Melodi made one last lunge for the open air. Young Buck made a diving tackle that would have been the envy of a National Football League fullback.
Melodi struggled and kicked. A devastating clip from Young Buck's fist to her jaw brought stars to her eyes.
"For that, you will pay." He dragged her back to his belongings by the fire and pulled out a strand of rope. "This will keep you from trying to leave me again. And you will be within easy reach if I desire you."
He tied the cord around her neck, just tight enough so that she gasped in pain at the least pressure from him. At least he took off the gag.
"Well, nothing to say? Good. Clean that meat and serve my supper."
Wary now and deciding that a show of meekness might further her cause, Melodi scurried to comply. Young Buck gave her just enough slack on the rope to reach the dropped food. She washed it in a small spring in a corner of the cavern.
After cleaning the small bones of meat and wiping his fingers on his dirty loincloth, Young Buck leaned back. He didn't offer any food to Melodi. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. When had she last eaten? It didn't matter. She tried to quell the sounds coming from her empty belly and concentrate on her next move. Information, that's what she needed. Get him talking and find some way to let Walks With The Wind know where she was.
She busied herself straightening the belongings strewn around the fire pit. It appeared that Young Buck had been here a while. Using it as a home base of sorts? Why not return to the village of his birth? She took a more critical look at his clothing. Clearly of Iroquois design if the texts and samples she had seen were accurate.
According to history, the Iroquois and the Penobscot tribes had warred with each other over hunting grounds. Surely the Iroquois had not come so far east as this. She must find some way to warn Fleet of Foot and the others.
Young Buck took a knife from a pouch and began to whittle. Perhaps this was her opening.
"What an interesting knife, Husband. May I ask where you got it?" She kept her manner and posture demure, hoping not to aggravate him further.
"I made it while in winter camp with my new brothers. It is a fine knife, better than any your people ever make."
"The carving on the handle is unusual. May I see it closer?"
"You think I am stupid enough to give you a weapon? I will ask the questions. Who is the blue-eyed devil that wants my wife?" He snarled as he yanked her closer. In a harsh whisper he said, "I saw him kiss you, touch you. What does he have that sets you on fire? Well? Answer me, woman." His voice rose to an enraged shout.
"He is a man. He will find me. I will be his wife." She spoke before considering the effects of her words.
"He will never find you. He is dead. Didn't you see? When he came looking for you I sneaked up behind him and crushed his skull."
Young Buck's eyes took on a crazed sheen. She'd seen that same look in pictures of Charles Manson, the mass murderer.
"I don't believe you. You lie." Beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew that if Walks With The Wind were dead, something in her would die as well.
"You call me a liar -- where is he, this man of yours? If he were truly alive and cared for you as you seem to think, he'd have found you by now."
That was true, perhaps he was injured. She refused to believe that he would not search for her. The bond between them was too strong. She considered her next course of action. If she acted as if she believed Young Buck and mourned Walks With The Wind, she might be able to buy herself some time. One more show of resentment was called for though her resistance would make her act more plausible.
"If I were you, Young Buck, I would watch my back. The man is silent as a ghost. He is probably listening to us right now and laughing at your boasting."
"Silent as a ghost? He is one with the spirits now. Look." Dragging her with him, Young Buck strode over to a pack by the fire pit. He rummaged around then, triumphantly, held his closed fist to the ceiling. "This, wife, is my proof."
He opened his fist and revealed a carved bone medallion. It belonged to Walks With The Wind. She'd never seen him without it. The spirit of the eagle was carved into the ivory. It hung on a leather thong that she had last seen around Walks With The Wind's neck.
"No, he can't be dead. Aieeeeee…" Her cries of anguish filled the cavern and echoed among the stalactites that hung like weapons from the ceiling.
****
In the shelter of overhanging cedar branches, Darien considered his options. The small, smokeless fire gave just enough light to see Tall Cedar's chest rise and fall with the regularity of the exhausted. It had been close. He'd almost lost a man he called "brother" today. Once again he thanked whatever gods were watching over him.
Tall Cedar would be fine come morning, but what of Little Raccoon? She and her captor had vanished like spirits. No clues to their presence were to be found along any part of this shoreline. He knew. Once he got Tall Cedar comfortable and safe, he'd checked every possible place a canoe could have come ashore. Scoured the surrounding bushes for traces of hair, torn clothing, anything to give him hope. There was none.
This delay was necessary, Tall Cedar refused to return to the tribe. Not only that, but he had urged Darien to carry on the chase without him.
Abandon a brother? No, they would go on together. The trail would be cold come morning. With the eagle's help they knew the general direction of travel, but the countryside was a combination of dense woodlands, low swamps, and granite studded hills. The number of hiding places were uncountable, it was impossible for him to check each one.
It didn't matter. His conscience, his heart, compelled him to go on. To not try, to return to Fleet of Foot without his daughter…. He may as well not go back without Little Raccoon.
At first light, he vowed as he settled his back against the ancient tree trunk, we will begin. I will find her. If he hurts her, he will pay.
A gray shroud of fog greeted the hunters as they emerged from their shelter before the sun rose. The only sounds heard was the rushing river nearby and the steady drip of droplets falling from the trees.
Tall Cedar was well again except for a purple swelling where the paddle had knocked him unconscious when he fell from the canoe. Their weapons and food had been lost with the canoe. All they had were the knives they kept clasped around their waists by hide strips that doubled as slings. No time to hunt for food, they would scavenge as they went.
Darien took the lead. Into the deeper shadows of the forest the fog glided around them as a haunting mist. Their footsteps fell silent on the wet floor of pine needles. They ran, eyes searching for any sign of human passage.
By the time the fog burned off, Darien began to lose hope. The sun peeked through a break in the canopy of trees, drops of water glistened in rainbows of light.
"Here is what we seek, Brother," Tall Cedar's muffled shout stopped Darien short. Behind a blueberry bush he knelt by a small depression. Muddy, it held the perfect imprint of a small, moccasin covered foot.
"You wer
e guided to this spot. Thank the gods for your sharp eyes." Darien clapped Tall Cedar on the shoulder.
The two men again ran in the direction the footprint revealed to them as clearly as if it were written on a printed page. South and west, toward the setting sun, back to the lake.
The sun was westering in a bold stroke of color before they stopped again. On a granite spine that broke through the tree covered hills Darien spied a fat grouse. With a movement that blurred he fitted a stone into the sling that hung about his waist and slung it at the bird. The rock hit with a solid sound that broke the silence. It was the only thing that had gone right since they had found Melodi's footprint hours earlier.
"Have they taken to the skies and flown away, Tall Cedar? No fresh tracks or any other sign since the sun was high in the sky," he said as he prepared the bird for cooking.
"Do not lose heart, Walks With The Wind." The other man scanned the horizon. "Look, across the valley, a string of smoke. Someone cooks over there."
"They must be stupid or many to risk detection. We'll eat, then find out who they are. If it's Little Raccoon with her captor, we will take them unawares. Something tells me it's not her."
"Let's go now, while it is light. Why wait?" Tall Cedar demanded.
The eagle, circling above, screamed. Darien tipped his head as if to listen, then said, "My spirit guide indicates they are not the ones we seek, but we will investigate. They may have seen Little Raccoon. Who hunts these lands?"
"A small group distantly related to our own. The sachem is cousin to my grandmother. They would be at the sea by now, as our own people are." Concern colored Tall Cedar's voice.
Any intrusion on a hunting area was construed to be an invasion. Though they did not consider the land theirs as in ownership, deep ties to certain areas assured no trespassing. Strangers were enemies.
Darien collected dry tinder and started a smokeless fire under a screen of hemlock boughs. If they did make smoke, it would dissipate through the branches before anyone could detect it. Though he chafed at the delay, he and Tall Cedar had run all day without stopping for food. If they were to maintain this level of stamina for the long trail ahead, they must eat.
Melodis Tune Page 15