Running Wolf handed him the canteen.
“Three swallows,” Lew said, “I remember.”
With the sun down, the air chilled quickly and Lew pushed closer to the fire. Neither of the two men spoke for a long time.
Lew rested his head on his knees and locked his arms around his legs. Images of animals coming out of the woods pestered Lew’s thoughts. Concerns about freezing to death at night, or of attacks by snakes, or bears, tugged at his mind. He felt anger towards Frank for sending him out here, and at Running Wolf for making him follow and then suggesting he’d followed on his own volition. What was he supposed to do, run after the truck and leap into the back? And creeping into his awareness was his fear of the dark. Hopefully, the fire would help with that.
“You can sleep now,” Running Wolf said lying back onto his crossed arms.
Lew did the same and noticed how bright the sky was with stars. Then he sat back up and put his cross-trainers back on to keep his feet warm. Only the part of him near the fire stayed warm, and he wondered what he could do to change that. He even thought of making a second fire, sleeping between the two, but he wasn’t about to go into the woods himself.
Running wolf spoke then: “Reach out and pull the essence of the fire inside your heart. It will keep you warm.”
Lew laughed. “The essence?”
“If you must, dream of fire, but be more careful of that.”
“Yeah, I’ll be real careful not to burn myself on a dream.”
Running Wolf said nothing more.
Lew closed his, curled into a ball for warmth, and eventually dreamed of fire.
CHAPTER 4
“FALSE-WOLF.”
The sun’s crest had barely edged over the far mountain when Running Wolf woke Lew, calling him by his nickname, only with an added prefix. He had added the word false. Lew woke completely the second time Running Wolf called out, “False-Wolf.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” Lew said angrily.
“Honesty is not rude.”
“Then you’re an asshole,” Lew said as he sat up and uncurled his aching body.
Running Wolf did not respond. He spread the last of the fire’s embers so that they’d go out.
“Did you hear me?” Lew yelled at him.
“False-Wolf ’s words are silent. They mean nothing.”
“The fucking hell, they do.” Lew stood quickly and got hit instantly by the pain in his legs and feet. “Oh,” he said.
Running Wolf shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Not much of a diplomat, are you?”
Lew’s head was swimming already. Part of his mind seemed to say that he needed to work with Running Wolf and his people, make them listen to reason. But nothing had gone his way. He knew nothing about them, what motivated them, what didn’t. Another part of Lew’s mind told him it didn’t matter anyway. Frank had set him up. Running Wolf didn’t want him there or want his help. It made him angry. He just wanted out. That part of his mind was winning. “Up yours,” Lew said.
“I suggest you sit down and rub your sore muscles, then stretch before we start out today. And here,” he held out the canteen. “Take three swallows.”
After drinking his ration, Lew sat back onto the ground and began to rub his legs.
Running Wolf kneeled down and took one of Lew’s feet, pulled off the cross-trainer and, avoiding the blisters, began to rub gently starting from the heel.
Lew instantly became more relaxed in his legs and back.
“Rub down toward the feet, not back and forth,” Running Wolf told him. “You must let the bad energy escape.”
“Your English is pretty good,” Lew said.
“For an asshole? Or for an Indian?”
“Both.”
Running Wolf removed Lew’s second cross-trainer and duplicated his moves, working from heel to toes, while Lew also switched legs, rubbing in a downward motion.
In a moment of relaxation, Lew said, “Why’d you antagonize me by calling me False-Wolf?”
“Honesty is not antagonistic, even when it hurts.”
“But, wolves are aggressive. They’re hunters and killers; the lead wolf always going out ahead to get first pick of the females.”
“Fantasy. Maybe you are Fantasy-Wolf.”
Lew laughed and turned his head. The conversation, although incorporating more words in the cool morning than they’d exchanged the entire day before, led nowhere.
When Running Wolf finished, Lew pulled on his socks and shoes. He felt extraordinarily relieved of pain. “What’s for breakfast?”
“We don’t eat today.”
Again, the anger rose in Lew, “What in hell do you mean?”
Without bothering to answer Lew’s question, Running Wolf told him that he had five minutes.
Lew stood. Through the trees, he could see many valleys. Fog strips faded the green of distant trees creating a striped look from valley to valley, easily discernible going into the distance. The sun felt warm as Lew lifted his face to it. He brushed his hands through his hair and rolled his head around on his neck. He felt and heard a loud pop at the base of his neck, got slightly dizzy from the motion, then stabilized. The morning sounds were crisp and the air smelled unusually fresh. Lew took a deep breath, then told his traveling partner that he was ready.
Running Wolf nodded and began to walk.
The terrain soon became rockier. The sun lifted above them in a slow arch across the sky. Lew’s feet felt fine for several hours, almost as though Running Wolf had numbed them with his massage. Then, as feeling returned, they began to hurt and burn once again. He stumbled more often. His head became lighter from a lack of food. At times, Lew had to concentrate just to keep his balance. His anger emerged, metamorphosing to great anxiety, to absolute fear, to a consuming determination to win, although he didn’t know what winning entailed.
Around mid-day they stumbled across a rattlesnake sunning itself on a warm rock ledge. Lew screamed and jumped, and shook with agitation. Running Wolf had to grab Lew’s shoulders to stop him. “It’s gone,” he said loudly. A moment later, Lew swung at him, yelling. “You did that. You planted it there.”
Running Wolf ducked the punch easily, then held Lew by the shoulders until he stopped shaking.
Lew stared, expressionless.
Running Wolf turned and walked on. Soon Lew followed, moving more slowly than before.
Well after noon, they entered woods once more. Lew hobbled along on weak legs and sore feet. Running Wolf helped him up the last rocky incline. At the top he removed Lew’s shoes long enough to rub his feet numb once again. This time, the numbness did not last, and by the time they came to the camp where the other Indians had been waiting, Lew was hobbling along slowly once again.
Three hogans squatted in a triangle, with a large fire pit situated in the center of them. A fresh fire snapped loudly, even though there were several more hours before sunset. The light was dim and the fire lit the fronts of the hogans and the central area, created an even deeper darkness in the woods beyond camp. The other four Indians sat on old crates near the fire; Lew didn’t see the truck anywhere. A spit stretched across the golden crackling flames, holding some animal Lew didn’t recognize. Lew’s stomach felt as though the sides were touching, like it had caved in on itself, and the smell of food cooking made him salivate. He restrained himself against his urge to tear a leg from the roasting carcass and sate his hunger.
Upon seeing him, the Indians laughed. Although he wanted to say something to them, he didn’t want to ruin his chances to eat. He kept quiet. His immediate urge was to sit down right where he now stood. He didn’t want to walk another step. He watched as Running Wolf traveled the short distance into camp and sat with the others saying “yaa’ eh t’eeh!” The others repeated the same greeting to Running Wolf.
Lew stood for a little while longer, then one of the Indians got up and walked over to him. It was the driver of the truck.
“Let me help you,” the man said. Taking
Lew’s arm, the driver stretched it over his shoulder behind his neck. They walked together into camp where the man lowered Lew onto an empty crate. He said something in a quiet mumble, and the Indian woman got up and disappeared into one of the hogans. In a moment she returned with a small satchel and a damp cloth. “Remove your shoes,” the man said.
Lew groaned as he bent each leg up to pull off the cross-trainer.
“I pulled out the spirits twice,” Running Wolf said.
The other Indian grunted, then removed some leaves and sticks from the satchel. Taking a knife from a sheath strapped to his left calf, the Indian scraped bark from the stick and rubbed it, along with some leaves he crushed between his fingers, into the damp cloth. Then he stood, walked outside the camp and chanted. Lew had closed his eyes as soon as the man stood, and so didn’t see him return.
The smell of the fire and the coolness of the woods took him far away. His head bobbed quickly and he snapped his eyes open just as the Indian placed the cloth around one foot and squeezed it hard. The Indian switched the cloth to the other foot and squeezed again. Relief fell over Lew almost instantly.
“Thank you,” Lew said.
***
That night Lew ate roasted rabbit and drink some sort of tea that left chunks of bark residue in the bottom of the cup. He expected to eat more than he did, but filled quickly to a point of comfort, where he stopped.
Although the Navajos had given him no reason, Lew had become frightened of them. They had eased the pain in his feet and fed him, but he felt no trust. As he became more nourished and more alert, the darkened sky and twisting fire created evil faces out of theirs. Their smiles became snarls of contempt. The movement of their hands in conversation became aggressive choppings and slicings. Their strange, guttural enunciations became angry and impassioned. If he could have stood quickly and run away, he would have done so, but ominous sounds came from the woods. He felt as though he was being watched or stalked by God knew what sort of carnivorous beast of the night.
When it was time to sleep, two of the Indians reached for Lew’s arms to help him rise. He pulled away sharply and yelled out, “No!” The Indians laughed and a stab of fear ran through Lew’s quickening heart. Did they find their play funny, he wondered as he looked into their faces?
“We sleep now,” the woman told him.
“Out here?” For all his nourishment, and what seemed to be clear-headedness, Lew felt edgy and confused.
“In the hogan,” she said pointing.
His initial prejudices had not allowed him to notice just how beautiful the woman was, how dark and smooth her skin appeared. She smiled, and he adjusted his earlier blindness to really see her. The angles of her face softened when she smiled. Although his concerns for his own safety did not go away completely, Lew found himself smiling back at her with sincerity. He stood slowly on his own. The other four Indians had gone off to share the two remaining hogans. The woman led Lew to a hogan where she opened the flap for him to enter.
“You’re sleeping here, too?” Lew said, confused by her actions.
“No,” she laughed. “I am sleeping in the hogan with my brother, Walker.”
“Walker?”
“Night Walker. We don’t use white man names here, even when we have them. Except me.”
“And your name?” Lew stood near her.
“Leela.”
“Huh,” he laughed. “Shouldn’t that be something like “Bare Assed in the Woods?” He had said it without thinking, and quickly regretted it. If he was in danger, a closed mouth was much more appropriate.
“Jerk,” she said letting the flap fall against his side.
He felt a rush of fear mixed with equal parts of anger at himself and at her. “No. No. I’m sorry.” He reached out for her and grabbed her arm.
“Do white men always handle their women as you do?” Her anger seethed in her eyes.
He released her. Lew couldn’t help himself. Fear burst through his body. “Don’t hurt me,” he said, but he didn’t know why he said it. He reacted instinctually, could not control himself. Aspects of his nature that he’d always known were there, but had seldom found such freedom, exited through his mouth. He felt conscious, yet out of control.
Leela snorted at him, then turned and walked away, eventually entering one of the other hogans.
Lew watched her go, trying to understand what was going on inside himself. When he heard a rustling and clicking sound just out of sight, he ducked into the hogan. A small fire guttered dimly in the center, drawing dancing shadows on the inside walls. A stack of wood rested nearby, so he quickly added two logs. The space was comfortable and warm. He sat on a blanket that had been open so he could easily cover himself. Then he noticed that the door flap had hooks inside and got up to latch it closed. He felt more secure instantly.
The fire brightened, catching to the fresh wood. Odd shaped shadows moved fluidly across the sides of the hogan. Lew lay on his back and stared up through the smokehole. The stars faded and brightened through the puffs of escaping smoke. Still fearful despite the comfortable space, Lew tried to calm himself through the use of logical deduction. The fact was they’d only been kind to him. Yes, he was led through the mountains for some unknown reason, but no harm had come to him, outside of blisters and sore muscles. Still, his mistrust and curiosity concerning their talks in their own language created enough reason to be cautious. And ready, he thought. He must be ready.
When he awoke the next morning, he had to go to the bathroom. He remembered having pissed only once the two days previous. Or was it three days? He could hardly remember. Listening closely, he heard quiet clanks and clinks in the camp. People rustled around in the early morning calm. He smelled food and sat up. It was very chilly and damp. He had not dreamed of fire, so he shivered at the feel of the cool morning air the moment he unlatched the flap.
About five feet in front of the hogan Night Walker sat crosslegged. When Lew stepped outside, the Indian held out a full roll of toilet paper. Lew grabbed it quickly, glanced into the camp where the others sat around their breakfast fire watching him, and ran into the woods. He heard them laugh behind him, and blushed as anger rose in response to that familiar derision. This time, it brought a quiet ringing to his ears.
Not far into the woods, Lew found a suitable place and squatted to relieve himself. His mouth felt dry and his skin oily. He could imagine how his hair must look, and reached up gingerly to feel it sticking out in all directions. His clothes were soiled, but his bare feet were only slightly sore. The cool leaves felt good on them.
When he finished his business, he took three deep breaths to try to calm down. It had been difficult to fall asleep the night before, but once he had, he slept well. Rested and more alert, he craved another meal. That was his biggest priority. His second priority was to find out what was going to happen next. He wasn’t used to, nor did he like, being in the dark. And, thus far, the Indians had been in total control, offering no insight into their future plans for him. He had lived moment to moment the last few days.
Although hungry as all hell, he pushed into his head the thought that he had to be prepared for anything. “Like a fucking Boy Scout,” he said under his breath, as he got up and headed back towards camp.
First stopping in at the hogan for his cross-trainers, then nearing the council fire, Lew handed the toilet paper back to Night Walker.
“Thank you,” he said in his most polite voice. He noticed a smirk run across several faces.
Leela said, “Feel better?”
“As a matter of fact,” Lew responded. Then he sat down. He knew he must stink, and his teeth and tongue felt thick inside his clammy mouth. Leela handed him a tin plate and pointed towards the skillet still heaping with scrambled eggs on one side and bacon, bubbling in its own grease, on the other. Lew took healthy portions of each, allowing the scent of the bacon to build in his nostrils before exhaling. Leela handed him a cup with more of the tea he had drunk the night before. Running
Wolf stared at him until Lew became uncomfortable and, still chewing a mouth full of food, said, “What?”
“Let go of your fear,” Running Wolf said. The others mumbled something in their own language, which reminded Lew how, in Catholic ceremonies, the priest would say a few words and the congregation would repeat a set response like ‘And also with you.’ It made him feel, suddenly, like he was in the middle of, or part of, a sacred ceremony. He wasn’t sure he liked that.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Lew spit back to him.
Running Wolf got up, and walked away. Lew felt good about it, like he had managed to win one small battle.
Once Running Wolf was out of earshot, into the woods, conversation increased. Night Walker looked at Lew and said, “It would be wise to listen to Running Wolf, my friend.”
Friend? Lew thought, nothing could be further from the truth.
“My brother is right,” Leela said.
Lew turned and said, “So, you don’t say, Night Walker.”
The man nodded, then looked up at one of the other two Indians, sitting across from him. They had all been pretty nondescript to that point; similarly dressed, quiet. But as they came alive around the morning fire, Lew began to see them as individuals.
Upon Night Walker’s glance, the Indian he looked at said, “Running Rabbit,” as an introduction.
The last Indian then said, “Strong Elk,” and smiled broadly, showing that he was missing two teeth along one side, like his very thin face hadn’t allowed enough room for them to stay.
Running Rabbit, on the other hand, looked as though his teeth were perfect. His face was a little chubbier and his body thicker than Strong Elk’s. In fact, Strong Elk looked the weakest of the bunch—including Leela—despite his name.
Running Rabbit, Strong Elk, and Night Walker all looked at Leela then and she said, “Yes, and I am Leela Shining Star. And I know it sounds like a cliché.”
“Not at all,” Lew said, wishing to redeem himself.
“And you are Wolf Cub,” Strong Elk said with a sort of lisp, air escaping through the gap in his teeth.
Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection Page 29