Shawna stopped for a while and stared into the fire. The conversation was complete and I felt I had come full circle. I said nothing. She got up to help the old lady prepare the food for supper and left me to sit warm and sedate. I had been given another piece to the mystery puzzle that had befallen me over the last few days. It was becoming more apparent, the story was in actuality, millennia old.
Dozing off for several moments, Shawna gently nudged my shoulder to rouse me. Straightening up, and out of the chair I turned to face a wooden table adorned with candles, and a feast of fish, sweet potatoes and types of vegetables that I had never seen before. The old woman motioned me to sit at the table, and the four of us sat together, in silence, while the old man gave a little song of chants and blessing to the fish and spirits that took care of us that day. Looking over to Shawna with head slightly bowed, I could see a glow that radiated from her. I was sure these were her grand parents. As I looked into her eyes, she transformed into a little girl with long silken black hair, and a laugh that brought butterflies to my stomach. I could see the love in the old woman's eyes as she recognized the joy that Shawna felt of the moment. She was home.
After much talk and a dessert of a sweet fruit cooked in a large leaf, Shawna and I made our way back to the hearth to sit and drink a concoction of herbs and leaves.
"Shawna, what are we doing? Not that I mind because I am really enjoying this, but are we going to stay here for a while?"
She thought for a few moments, "There is much indecision as to how to proceed, so they have decided to hold a prayer ceremony and decide on an initiation."
"Initiation, who's being initiated?" I asked.
"You are."
There was not a lot said by the old man and woman for most of the evening. Occasionally, Shawna would go and help with odd chores, and converse with them in their native tongue. They did not seem to be put out by my being there, and appeared to carry on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Within several hours, just after sunset, two men came to the door and greeted our hosts with warmth and friendship. A quick glance and smile to Shawna and I, acknowledged our presence, but also initiated a motion for us to go for a walk. We donned our coats and headed down to the shore to watch as the waves crashed endlessly on the pebbles and out-cropping of rock. We sat on the dock and huddled close for warmth. The moon up in the sky, just beyond the treetops, lit the surroundings of the protected little cove with its' reflective hue. There was not much said, but our intimacy grew with the closeness and shared body heat.
"What will happen tomorrow?" I asked in a whisper just audible over the swishing of the pebbles.
"I am not sure." she replied. "Nothing to be afraid of, and not near as dramatic as you've experienced over the last twenty-four hours.
Shawna did not look at me, but I sensed she was beginning to feel the magnetism we held for each other as strongly as I. We sat for the better part of an hour, huddled close on the dock making small talk and listening to the sounds of the night that encompassed us.
After several hours, when we entered the cabin, all was quiet and the fireplace was ablaze with several new logs. In the loft, somewhere out of sight, the snores of the old man, or woman, could be heard like the steady beat of a distant drum.
"You can sleep there, close to the fire," she whispered pointing me to a bed of blankets, furs and pillows. "I'll be right over here."
There was a small cot tucked in the corner, close to the fire, but slightly in the shadows. She turned and disappeared out of sight behind a partition in the kitchen area while I undressed. Emptying my keys and phone on the small rough hewn table to one side, I tucked myself under the covers and watched and listened, to the crackling of the fire barely three feet away. The day had worn me out, and I began to feel the relaxed, a sensational prelude to sleep. A rustling noise pulled my attention to Shawna in the corner by the cot. The firelight danced about the room, and illuminated her as she undressed out of her day clothes. Naked, she slipped under the covers and rolled over to watch the fire. From opposite sides of the hearth, we could see each other in the faint light. Neither one of us said anything. The flames reflected in her dark eyes and highlighted the smooth, satin skin of her face and shoulders. We laid for what seemed an eternity, staring at each other. Scenes of her, throughout the day, played on my mind like the shadows on the wall. Wishing the opposite, I found myself thinking of her grandparents upstairs, and rolled over with my back to the fire and Shawna.
My heart had just settled, when I felt her nakedness slip in beside me under the blankets. Without turning, I lifted my arm and placed it over her waist to run my hand along the small of her back and down her thigh. I could feel her breasts push hard into my back as she reached around my chest to hug me. Her hand caressed the length of my stomach and found its way between my legs. Rolling on my back to face her, our eyes met and we kissed passionately. Slipping on top of me she straddled my leg rubbing herself against my thigh, the wetness felt cool against my warm skin. Slipping her to one side I reached down to remove my under garments. Her head moved down to caress me and I laid in ecstasy while the room danced and swooned to the rhythms of her motion. Her skin was hot and moist and the smell of the wood burning along with the animal skins brought me to heights of pleasure I had never experienced. Turning Shawna over on her back I kissed the length of her body, feeling the response of her flesh beneath each precious touch. Rolling over on top of me again, we kissed and caressed. The inner reaches of her body gave way to my advance. The night was like no other I had experienced. I dozed on and off, for the next several hours, watching Shawna sleep.
I could not help but wonder at her childhood, and how she must of looked with her fine features and olive satin skin. A thin line of black highlighted her brow, and the line of eyelashes was long and fanned up slightly toward her temple in perfect proportion. Her black hair lay limp against her cheek and over the pillow to cross my inner shoulder, as if drained from the activities of the last hour and before. The fire's still flickering embers, danced in highlights on her bare shoulders and breast, as if to reflect the passion still smoldering within. Closing my eyes, I drifted into semi-sleep and the vision of a place along a well-worn path in the forest.
Looking down to the ground, the cedar needles covered the path, cushioning my bare feet against the roots that protruded, gnarled, from the dirt. Skinny, little feet, and ankles scissored back and forth, in unison with mine. A shock of black hair danced above the shoulders of a little, dark skinned girl, running along beside me. The smile on her face enforced the feeling of oneness I had. We scurried along together toward the rocks and the crashing of the waves in the distant. I sensed we were running from something, perhaps another person that had followed us into the bush. Without fear, we stopped at the cliffs edge and peered over to the turquoise and emerald sea below. Froth and foam squirted up in plumes as the waves oscillated back and forth in the narrow channels between the crevices of cliff and rock below. Leaning over to watch more intently, I felt the tug of the hand, and short nails digging into my palm. Breaking free, I leaned over further to view the interior of the caves that were hidden, only truly visible by boat away from the shore. My footing let go, and I felt myself tumble from the cliff face and fall toward the beautiful color and waves of the tidal surge. I could hear the scream of the little girl’s voice as I plunged into the cold depths of the water. Without fear, I watched as the seaweed danced back and forth to the rhythms of the current. Suspended, neither up nor down, I floated neutrally below the surface. The cold made my body tense, and I began to sink to the bottom amid the starfish and anenomi. Eventually, the cold gave way to warm numbness, and I opened my mouth to call for my mother. Within a moment, the little boy came, swimming down to meet me. Almost face-to-face, we stared at each other and smiled, and waited. My face began to feel fuzzy, and tingly, along with a loud buzzing in my ears. His face was calm while he watched me as I struggled with my surroundings. With another attempted call, a
gulp of water passed my throat to close it permanently. A peaceful numbness overtook and the loud buzzing became a warm vibration. My throat squeezed out my last groan as I struggled toward my young companion, and I blacked out, traveling through a dark tunnel only to find myself back on the fur lined bed, with Shawna peacefully lying in my arms.
The crackling of the logs was faint, and the light had dimmed to a glow. All that was left of the effulgence were the smoldering embers that illuminated the small area around the oven. The even, monotone sounds of snoring in the loft were all that kept me calm as I tried to reason with the dream, and the tugging in my heart for this creature that lay beside me. The petro-glyph of the ‘Drowning Man’ came to mind, perhaps it was not a drowning man after all, but a drowning boy.
TEN
I awoke as the first rays of dawn were streaming in through the small window above the table just right of the doorway. The illumined sitting area, brought alive the many ornaments and colorful trinkets littering the shelves and tables. The cabin was light and busy, quite different in appearance from the previous evening. The archaic fishing utensils that hung on the walls transformed the romantic ambience of the preceding night into the reality and true purpose of this little cabin. Bone fishhooks, mussel shell jewelry and woven baskets, along with many other ornaments I did not recognize, began to spring forth as I studied the room. Perched on the shelf, that skirted the perimeter of the room just below the upper floor joists, was a variety of colorful clay and wooden bowls of all shapes and sizes.
My eyes eventually came to rest on the most precious ornament of all, hidden beneath a wool blanket. Sometime during the early morning hours, Shawna had slipped from my bed unnoticed, back to her cot on the opposite side of the hearth. As I turned to get comfortable, her eyes opened to greet me with a sparkle. Her form rolled to a stretch beneath the blanket, teasing me to a responsive smile. The urge to go and be with her again was almost uncontrollable but quickly subsided with the thoughts of her grandmother already preparing for the day. The cocks had been crowing, from before dawn, and the stirrings in the attic had started shortly thereafter. Tucking my forearm up under my head as a pillow, I watched as Shawna teased me with her poking tongue and tucked her pillow beneath the covers clasping it firmly between her thighs. We lay in silence and watched each other, relishing the warmth and physical hum of the night before.
The dampness of the night air had slowly crept in as the fire began dying down over the early morning hours. From the comfort of the fur-lined cot, it was going to be difficult to get motivated for the day. This was the best I had felt in days and the relaxing atmosphere of the cabin was going to be hard to shake off. With the warmth beneath the covers, and my body feeling great, I could quite easily spend the whole day lounging, reading and sharing with Shawna, possibly not even setting a foot outside.
Lying wide-awake, outstretched on the cot, with Shawna still opposite napping, my eyes and thoughts wandered to the workmanship of the floorboards above and the construction of the little house. The planks were rough-hewn and showed the chaffing of the adz used to chip the edges and bark away. It had been constructed over a period of years, and from the variety of aged timbers, possibly centuries. Lowering my eyes, I came across something so alien to my natural surroundings that I had to think twice; I reached for my cell phone.
Stirrings from above, the boards in the loft began to creak and thump as grandma prepared to descend down the ladder once again. I wondered why they chose to sleep in the loft, but of course it was the warmth from the fire below that rose to the rafters. By the time her foot hit the floor, her mouth had spewed reams of sentences, and the two of us were out of bed and hopping to get our belongings gathered up. The morning then filled with chores of chopping wood, preparing food and getting water. We had heard the grandfather leave just before dawn, to go fishing, and would only return before lunch. It turned out to be 'some morning'.
In the middle of the afternoon, Shawna, her father and I, traveled up the hill again, over-shoulder bags in tow. Instead of turning into the parking lot, we headed in the opposite direction to a trail through the woods leading further south and inland from the coast. Within ten minutes, the little boy from the previous day was following us at a distance parallel to the path, but always ducking out of sight when I tried to draw attention to him.
"We have a visitor." I piped up trying to make conversation as we plodded along.
"Oh, do we. And who might that be?" asked Shawna jokingly.
"A little boy, a real scruffy, little, half naked boy."
Shawna looked at me in amazement. "There are no other families living in this area. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, he keeps following us where-ever we go."
"Oh!" she mused, "must be Kwuwati!"
"Kwuwati, odd name. Who is Kwuwati?"
"A little friend." she continued. "Kwuwati is a boy in a fairytale told to us as children by my ancestors. He helped my people in times of hardship by teaching us how to build drying racks for fish, and smoke houses for salmon. He was mischievous, but imparted wisdom to my people.’ She continued down the path, looking back every few moments with an impish grin on her face. “No one knows if he was indeed a real person or a fanciful story to interest the children."
I thought to myself of the oddity and watched in amazement as he emerged, and retreated over the next hour, amid the foliage and trees. Every once-in-a-while, I heard a faint whistled laugh as he taunted me at a distance. To my dismay he remained out of sight to the others and began to understand this was evidently 'our thing'.
As we continued on with our journey, I felt a sense of familiarity traipsing along with Shawna, following in the same way as my dream of the previous night. The ground underfoot was spongy from the cedar needles and presumably more comfortable and quicker than the rocky paths by the shoreline. The skittish, resident wildlife of chipmunks and pheasants, alarmed by our presence, would entreat us away from their nesting grounds with squawks and flamboyant displays of behavior. A rustling in the bush off to the right, to our astonishment and delight, was an elk with calf, feeding and keeping their distance. Our intrusive presence eventually startled them and they scurried away after the subtle click of my camera. Off to the sides of the path, the beginnings of new plant life sprouted from the occasional peak of black, moist forest peat. Vanilla leaf sprouted beneath a stand of sword ferns, while the bead-ruby strained leaning in the direction of the afternoon sun. Turkey-tail fungus jutted precariously from the trunks of trees, perched above the upholstery of moss-covered roots. It was a botanist's cornucopia of earthly, floral delight.
The three of us plodded along at a steady pace enjoying the fresh scent, and scenery of the rain forest undergrowth illumed by the shafts of sunlight piercing the upper canopy. The mid-afternoon air had warmed considerably, and reversed its journey from the interior back out to the sea. The treetops gently swayed in rhythmic harmony of wind and music as the branches urged us on at their steady pace.
Eventually, we came to an open clearing on high ground overlooking a small bay breaching to open water. To the left of the clearing, a fire had been lit in a shallow pit, a natural indentation in the rock. Almost obscured by large boulders that protected the flat stone area from the elements, was a unique little enclosed area where a short, elderly native man stood by the fire. He welcomed us as we came close and stood by an outer circle of uncut stones. The circle was approximately twelve feet across, and flat with a bedding of packed earth and dried cedar needles bordering the inside perimeter. The occasional crown of a large, smooth boulder peeped through the dirt suggesting previous use and occupation.
As I crossed the boundary of stone to shake his hand, I looked off to the right taking note of the shapes far below in the shadows that lay open to the rocky beach and ocean. The upper portion of the tidal-zone sported the remains of pits and what appeared to be archeological digs. The overgrown foliage, and lack of current signs of excavation, gave the impression they
were years old. As I turned back to face the elder, he greeted me with a warm smile, but did not offer a hand in gesture. Returning the smile and replacing my hand by my side, I watched him and realized I recognized him. His eyes were deep brown, and sparkled brightly from the reflection of the fire as he turned to see that the others had not crossed the circle of stones. A gray ponytail swung on his shoulder as he turned, and it was then that I remembered him as the man sitting with me in my vision by the totems in Stanley Park. Shawna and her grandfather had not moved, and stood beyond the periphery of stones, conducting a short conversation from where they stood with the elder. They spoke in the same tongue I had heard earlier with the guards as we drove inland from Neah Bay. After their greetings and welcoming gestures, the mood became sober and the elder turned back to me.
"Our ancestors welcome you to their home with open hearts. What you have done and offered in friendship can never be repaid. You have entered our circle of friendship and are welcome. Come sit and we will talk."
He motioned me over to several large stones alongside a woven mat placed on the ground. A steaming pot sat by the fire, with two small bowls placed beside. As I eased myself down on one of the rocks, he reached forward to fill the two bowls from the kettle. After giving me one, he sat down, half facing me on another boulder, and began sipping his tea. Watching him for a while, without taking a sip of my own, I began to wonder who he was and how he was able to visit me in the park. What part did he play in this vision quest?
"Relax!" he sighed, taking another sip of tea. "You have nothing to fear. I take it you have been told a little of our customs."
"Well no." I replied, looking over to Shawna and her grandfather. They both smiled and turned to head down to the shore.
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