by J. M. LeDuc
“I don’t make sense,” Pamoon blurted. “Not in this world, not on this mountain, and not in that cave.”
Kise smiled. “That’s because you don’t understand your powers or your spirit.” Before Pamoon could say anything, Kise turned toward the cliff, and continued, “Everything in nature, everything in this world has a spirit, not just people, and you are destined to become the Kiche. You are Kakesimototakew; the one who communicates with the spirit world.”
“How am I supposed to communicate with the spirit world?”
“You are to use what was given to you at birth.”
“At birth?” Pamoon turned to ask Kise what she meant, but she was gone.
* * *
Pamoon opened her eyes and realized she was still in bed, with Scout lying next to her.
“Where are we, boy?”
Turning on the light she realized she was still at Tihk’s house. Petting Scout, she said, “The last thing I remember was hearing Bobby growl and falling on top of me.”
Hearing voices, Pamoon opened the door and ran down the hall to an empty kitchen. “Where is everyone?” Through the curtains, she saw the flickering flames of a campfire.
From the window, she could see everyone sitting around the fire, talking. Wanting to join them, she grabbed her staff and headed for the door, but not before Scout made his way to her side and the raven once again perched itself on top of the staff.
Standing on the porch, Pamoon could hear Tsomah’s voice.
“Why can’t she just be like every other teenager, pissed at the world and hating everyone?”
Pamoon stepped forward, clearing her throat.
Her voice and the sound of the closing screen door grabbed everyone’s attention. She saw them all look her way as she moved with a quiet grace.
“I am pissed at the world and I do hate everyone,” she laughed, “but. . .” Pamoon stopped and glanced at the bird perched atop the pole, “I am more than that: I am Cree.”
34
Jailed
March 8, 9:00 a.m.
* * *
Tihk had told her the scene that’d played out once Bobby had attacked her and driven her into the ground. White Eagle had shot Bobby with an arrow.
“White Eagle? Where did he come from?”
“He heard the howling from inside his home. He was still a hundred feet away when Bobby attacked you. He made one heck of a shot.”
Pamoon’s thoughts flashed to White Eagle’s story of being a young warrior. A brief smile came and left as thoughts of Bobby flooded her mind. “Is Bobby dead?” she asked, the last word barely audible.
“No,” Tihk said, shaking his head. “Powaw patched him up and he is being kept in the sweat lodge.”
Insisting on seeing Bobby, Tihk drove her to the lodge.
From the passenger seat, Pamoon stared at two elders who kept guard at the door. They were dressed as warriors, spears gripped in their hands.
“Is all this necessary?”
“It’s the safest place for him and for everyone else. You saw how he looked and acted. Everyone who saw what happened has been sworn to secrecy, but if word of what he looked and acted like got out, we might have a mob mentality on our hands. The tribe and the citizens of the town are on edge as it is.”
Dry-mouthed, Pamoon swallowed hard and got out of the truck.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tihk said.
“Yes, I do.”
Walking toward the guards, Pamoon zoned out, not focusing on anyone or anything. However, they barred her entrance, stopping her from proceeding further.
Tihk spoke to them in Cree. Nodding, they moved away from the door.
“Remember, the Bobby you’re about to see is not the same one you know.”
Nodding, Pamoon said, “I saw him in the glades; I know what to expect.”
Unlocking the door, Tihk looked back at her one more time. “You can still walk away.”
Pamoon shook her head. “No, I can’t. And I need to do this alone.”
Stepping inside the door, the lodge was dimly lit. Adjusting to the light, she heard a faint guttural groan. Her pulse raced as she squinted in the direction of the sound.
At the far end of the lodge, she saw Powaw sitting in a chair. Even from where she stood, she could smell herbs. She watched as Powaw shook a leather pouch, chanting the entire time.
She stepped beside Powaw and looked down at Bobby. He was covered in chains, his jaws trapped in a muzzle.
“Holy crap,” she mouthed, locking eyes with the monster. “Is that Bobby?” she breathed.
“It is his essence, but his flesh is no longer present.”
She squatted next to Powaw’s chair. Bobby’s agitation increased the closer she came.
“Can I touch him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He has not moved or made a sound until you entered the lodge. He can sense your presence. Although he is chained and muzzled, I don’t know the extent of his strength.”
Powaw stopped shaking the pouch and slouched in the chair.
“Please let me touch him. I can help him.”
She felt Powaw’s hand on her shoulder as he pressed his weight against her, helping him to stand. “The only way to help him is to defeat the evil and return his spirit.”
Pamoon turned from Bobby and stared into Powaw’s eyes. “How?”
“You have been given many powers, you must learn to use them.”
Pamoon turned back toward her friend. “He looks different than he did. More human, less animal. Is he getting better?”
“No. He grows weaker. The further he gets from the woods and the one who did this too him, the more his appearance changes, but his spirit is still the same.”
Pamoon was about to speak when Powaw pointed toward Bobby. “Look in his eyes and tell me what you see.”
“Evil,” she breathed, “I see evil.”
“They say the eyes are the window to the soul,” Powaw said, staring at the beast, “Bobby’s soul—his spirit—is black.”
“What would happen if I touched him?”
“Our ancestors say that if you come in contact with evil this strong your spirit may be lost.”
Pamoon swallowed hard. “I would become one of them?”
“It’s possible.”
“Then how can I help him?”
“The answers lie in the Spirit Cave. You must return to find the answers.”
Pamoon nodded, knowing what she must do. Before leaving, she turned to Powaw and asked, “The others—my friends—are they still alive?”
Powaw dropped his head in despair. “I don’t know. If they are, they are the same as Bobby—lost in a world between life and death.”
“What happens if I can’t help them?”
“Evil will grow within them, and they will do Kanontsistonties’ bidding, taking the souls of others.”
Without responding, Pamoon walked out of the lodge.
35
Plans
March 8, 10:30 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon sat on the couch, feeling a little like Dr. Doolittle. Scout was sprawled at her side and the raven sat on her shoulder. Deep in thought, she didn’t see White Eagle or Nuna enter the room, but immediately smelled the aroma of coffee.
“That smells good,” she said, nostrils flaring. “Got another cup?”
Pamoon noticed Nuna staring at the bird. She pointed to the staff, which stood in the corner of the room, leaning up against the doorframe. Pointing, she commanded, “Niya.”
In turn, the raven flew and perched itself on the staff.
“Thank you,” Nuna said, taking a seat. “I never did trust birds much. All that screeching and those beady little eyes.”
Pamoon laughed at her aunt’s words. “I have a feeling she’s gonna be around for a while, you might have to change your opinion.”
“Yeah, you might be right.”
White Eagle rejoined the two, coffee in hand.<
br />
“Thanks,” Pamoon said taking the cup. “Tihk told me what you did; your shot with the bow. Thank you. Hurit would have been proud.”
White Eagle blushed. “So,” he said, changing the subject, “I hate to be the one who brings it up, but what’s your next step?”
“I need to go back to the cave,” Pamoon said.
“From what Powaw told me, I figured as much. Would you mind if I went with you?”
“Mind? I’d love it,” Pamoon beamed.
“I thought she had to go alone,” Nuna questioned.
“I took a closer look at what Pamoon translated. The words burnt into the jacket said she needed to find the cave by herself.” He paused to sip his coffee, seemingly lost in his thoughts. White Eagle kept his head down as he spoke. “As a member of the Cree people, the Spirit Cave is thought of more as a myth than a reality.” Looking up, he continued, “If it really exists, I want to see it. And besides,” his expression hardened, “if the Spirit Cave doesn’t want me to enter, I won’t be allowed.”
“How can a cave shut you out?” Pamoon asked.
“Our people are taught that the cave is not only a conduit between the natural world and the spirit world, but it’s also a living thing,” White Eagle answered. “It has its own spirit. If all of this is true, I have a feeling the cave will decide who and what enters or leaves, not man.”
“Will you be able to enter the Misty Woods?”
“Only one way to find out.”
36
Woods
March 8, 1:00 p.m.
* * *
Along with White Eagle, Scout, and the raven, Atahk—so named because her eyes looked like big, bright stars—Pamoon moved swiftly to the spot in the woods where she found the bent tree.
She turned to speak to White Eagle and found him on his knees. Quickly dropping down beside him, she asked if he was okay.
“In all my years, I never thought I would see the Misty Woods, but—.” The chief just shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the Bent Tree, the gateway to the Misty Woods.
Pamoon squatted in front of White Eagle and helped him stand, explaining how they needed to enter from between the branches. “Do you think you can climb between them?”
“Nothing could stop me,” he said.
* * *
Dropping into the Misty Woods, Pamoon helped White Eagle through the eye.
She watched, his head on a constant swivel; his eyes wide, drinking in everything. Pamoon stared as she watched him take a deep breath, purse his lips, and blow; his breath, white like a summer cloud. The wrinkles on his face seemed to disappear as a single tear rolled down his cheek; his complexion red from the mountain air. She smiled when he began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m just happy to be home.”
“Home?”
“Eha. I would know these woods anywhere. This mountain is where I grew up.”
“Ha? How can that be? You said you’ve never entered the Misty Woods.”
“I don’t have that answer, but I know my home.” Pamoon watched his eyes dance around the woods. “These are the same woods that are part of the reservation in Canada where I grew up. The Spirit World is beyond our comprehension.” White Eagle looked at her, nodded, and pointed to the path. “Lead the way. This is your journey.”
Pamoon was surprised at the lack of thorns as they walked up the mountain. “What happened to all the thorns?”
“My guess is that they know you belong here. They no longer try to keep you away.”
She stopped and looked back at White Eagle. “And you?”
He shrugged. “A gift for an old man.”
The trek up the mountain seemed quicker and easier to Pamoon. Maybe it was knowing her way, or maybe it was a new-found confidence. As they walked, she retold the story of how she and Scout made their way the first time and how she was poisoned by the thorns. “These trees,” she pointed, “spoke to me.”
“They spoke to you?” White Eagle’s head was cocked to the side. “In the way I and Powaw taught you?”
“No. In words. Some helped me and others tried to stop me from finding the Spirit Cave. The Creator told me that the woods, the very trees, harbor the spirits of those who tried to find the cave before me. She said they weren’t chosen, so the woods claimed them as its own.”
White Eagle shook his head, dismay dripped with his words. “The Mistik Ayisiniwak. The legend is true.”
“Tree People? What legend?”
“Our nation tells a story about people whose spirits have been trapped in the wood of the trees. The legend says that if you look closely enough, you can see their faces in the bark.”
Pamoon stepped off the path and stepped in front of a tree. The harder she studied, the less she saw. Concentrating on the tree, her palm began to tingle. Placing her hand on the trunk, it morphed in front of her, a face—first blurry, then clear—appeared. A sad, painful face.
“There are so many,” White Eagle gasped.
From the corner of her eye, Pamoon saw him pointing at the woods. Glancing around, she witnessed, other faces in the bark of other trees.
Help us.
She looked at White Eagle, who nudged her. “Talk to them.”
She nodded and turned back towards the trees. “How can I help you?”
Discover the power within you. The power of the Kiche. It’s the only way.
Pamoon dropped her hand from the tree as her head drooped. “I don’t know if I can,” she mouthed. Lifting her head toward the tree, the faces were gone.
“Where did they go?” she asked White Eagle.
“They disappeared when you removed your hand.”
“I don’t know how to discover my power,” she repeated.
“You will,” he said as he began to walk.
“How can you be sure?”
“It’s your destiny.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way up the path, Scout in the lead. Entering the clearing, White Eagle exhaled in surprise.
Pamoon turned to see her uncle staring at the trees. The birds, the ravens, had returned. They were silent, but bowed their heads as she walked beneath the canopy of branches. Atahk sprang from the staff and flew among them, rubbing her feathers against theirs. It must have been a friendly touch because they cooed pleasure at his touch.
“Amazing,” he whispered.
Pamoon tingled with excitement. “You think that’s amazing, wait until you see the cave.”
Pamoon ran through the clearing until she stood in front of the vine covered wall.
“Not so fast,” White Eagle huffed. “I’m an old man.”
“Sorry, I’m just excited to show you the Spirit Cave.”
Trying to catch his breath, the chief bent forward, his hands braced against his knees. “Show me.” His chest rose and fell with each word.
Pamoon moved the vines aside to show White Eagle the flame. “Do you see it?”
“He nodded in delight.”
“Watch.”
Pamoon placed the palm of her hand over the flame-shaped etching on the wall, gritting her teeth as the electric shock shot up her arm. The shock felt milder than the first time, maybe because she knew what was coming. The jolt felt more like energy than physical pain. She held tight as the wall began to shake. The tremor stronger this time, felt as if the entire woods would collapse. When it ceased, the Spirit Cave returned.
Not seeing awe etched in her uncle’s expression, Pamoon asked, “Did you feel the ground quake? Can you see the opening?”
She watched as White Eagle stared at the spot she pointed to. “I felt nothing, and all I see is the stone wall.”
Using the staff, Pamoon pointed inside the cave. “You don’t see the opening to the Spirit Cave?” she exclaimed.
White Eagle’s posture appeared to deflate like a popped balloon.
“It seems the spirits have spoken,” he said. “I’m afraid this is as far as I can go. Whatever is on t
he other side of that opening is for your eyes only.”
“You sure?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’m not sure I want to face whatever alone.”
White Eagle gently held her face and tilted her chin until she could see into his eyes. “You won’t be alone. Scout and Atahk will be with you, and I will be there in spirit.”
“Why can they go, but not you?”
“Behind that wall is their world as much as it is yours, but it’s not mine, at least not now.”
Opening her mouth to speak, her uncle leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“When you return, I probably won’t be here,” he said. “I’m needed back on the reservation.”
“But I need you here.”
Looking at Scout and Atahk, White Eagle answered. “You have everything you need.”
Although Pamoon had witnessed enough to understand, the corners of her mouth sank downward, disappointment etched her brow. She wrapped her arms around White Eagle and squeezed tight, not wanting to let go.
“It’s time,” White Eagle whispered in her ear.
* * *
Watching Pamoon walk straight through a solid wall, White Eagle stumbled backward and fell back against the cold ground. “Êkây tapwe.”
Nothing is impossible. It’s all a matter of perspective.
“Kisemanito?”
Eha
White Eagle knelt, looked up toward the heavens, spread his arms, and began to pray.
“Kanaweyimowewin wiya.”
I promise to protect her as much as I can, the Creator answered. Because of man’s free will, her choices are her own.
Staying on his knees, White Eagle absorbed all he heard and saw. Finished, he stood and began the long walk home.
37
Spirit Cave
March 8, 1:30 p.m.
* * *