Tag Against Time

by Helen Hughes Vick

  “Walker of Time,” he whispered, his hand still resting in his ancient mud print.

  Walker appeared clearly in Tag’s eyes and mind. Wearing his eagle pendant, a loincloth, and sandals, he stood on the rim of a pink mesa. White clouds billowed behind him. Flute Maiden stood beside him, her body swollen huge with a child about to be born. “No wonder you were in hurry to get back, Walker,” Tag said. “I told you Flute Maiden had a crush on you.” Peace enveloped his heart as he saw the love in both of their eyes. “You made it home, old buddy. Home to Hopi.”

  Walker’s voice vibrated within the ancient walls, “Remember me, remember my people. You must now see with your heart, as well as with your new sight, my friend. We still need your help.” Walker’s face began to fade.

  “Don’t leave Walker! What new sight? Tell me Walker, what new sight?” Tag cried, pressing his hand against the print in the wall with all his strength, straining to see Walker’s fading face through his tears. His heart felt like it was cracking in two. “Walker, please, I just want to go ho . . .”

  “Tag!”

  His dad’s loving voice reached through Tag’s fears and pain, bringing him home at last.