Walks Through Mist

by Kim Murphy

  She shook her head.

  “Why don’t we take the tour first?”

  Once outside the gift shop, they took the path leading to the fort. Phoebe drew closer and clung to his arm.

  Intrigued by her reaction, Lee reassured her. “It’s all right. Everything is a replica.”

  “Replica?”

  “A copy. It’s to give us an idea of how people lived in Virginia in the early 1600s.”

  Her lock on his arm loosened slightly. They stepped into a mock-up of a coastal Indian town. A dugout canoe was near the entrance. Phoebe touched it, looking like it reminded her of something.

  A blond-haired man in a fringed deerskin shirt and pants greeted them. “Dugout canoes were widely used by the Indians. They made them through burning and scraping.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened, and she began speaking rapidly in the guttural language she had used on the first night in the hospital.

  “English,” Lee reminded her.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” the costumed interpreter said, “it sounds like Algonquian. Ma’am, have you studied with the tribes?”

  Algonquian? That was an interesting discovery.

  The interpreter eyed him. “And you, sir, are you...?”

  Suddenly annoyed, Lee gave his best stereotypical Indian pose by standing rigid and crossing his arms. “I don’t speak Algonquian, and I left my tomahawk at home.”

  “I meant no insult,” the interpreter apologized. “I merely thought the young lady might be your student. Virginia Algonquian hasn’t been spoken in at least two hundred years, so I concluded you must be from one of the northern tribes who still uses an Algonquian dialect.”

  Relaxing, Lee thought it best they move on. “Apology accepted, but my friend is a student of history. Thank you.” He grasped Phoebe’s arm and led her down the path toward the longhouse covered in woven reed mats. “Why did you suddenly slip into Algonquian?”

  “At first I thought he was Sparrow Hawk, but Sparrow Hawk would have ne’er dressed in such a manner. He would not have worn a shirt, and he wore a breechclout.” She giggled. “Like all warriors, he kept his hair long on the left side and shaved the right.”

  “Ah yes, I seemed to recall reading about hairstyles. It kept their hair from getting caught in the bow string.”

  “You know of the Arrohateck?”

  “The Paspahegh, Arrohateck, Kecoughtan, Nansemond, Pamunkey... About thirty tribes were tributaries to the paramount chief, Powhatan. The surviving tribes’ troubles continue today.”

  “How can you know so much, yet not know which tribe you belong to?”

  “Long story. Should we continue with the tour?”

  She agreed to his suggestion. At least he had a lead by narrowing down the language she had spoken.

  They moved toward four houses of various sizes. Bent saplings formed the frames, which were then lashed and covered by the woven mats. At the door, Lee tested the strength of the structure. Solid.

  “The houses are quite sturdy,” said a woman dressed in deerskin similar to the previous interpreter’s. She stepped aside for them to enter. “They remained standing after a hurricane last year.”

  Inside, animal skins hung from walls and covered raised pallets. Bowls were made from turtle shells, gourds, and clay. There was an assortment of woven baskets and bone needles. In the center, rocks formed a circle where a fire should have been. Another interpreter wearing glasses sat on a raised pallet made of mats. She twined fibers to make cordage.

  Lee picked up a clam shell scraper. The books he had read as a child must have infected him. Everything seemed familiar.

  From behind him came Phoebe’s voice. “Where is the fire? To let it go out is bad luck.”

  “We’re not allowed to burn now,” one of the interpreters responded. “Because of the drought, the governor hasn’t lifted the burn ban.”

  “Why would the Arrohateck abide by an act of the governor for something as important as a fire?” Before the interpreter could respond, Phoebe grasped the fibers from the woman’s hands. “Your chore would hasten if you held the fibers in your hands like thus.” She held separate fibers in her fingers and twisted them into cordage. After a couple of minutes, she produced twice the amount of cordage that the interpreter had already made. Phoebe handed the fibers back to the woman. “Only an elderly Englishman would wear spectacles.”

  An insulted expression crossed the woman’s face.

  “Phoebe...” Lee guided her from the longhouse. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said under his breath.

  “Should I not correct their errors?”

  “Actually, if it were up to me, I’d make certain you got a job here, but it might be best to save your comments for me.”

  They followed the path from the Indian town to the English fort. A cluster of wattle and daub houses stood at the opposite end. As it was chilly and still early in the season, no one tended the gardens. A cloaked woman carried a wooden pail of water toward one of the houses.

  “The houses are not practical in this climate,” Phoebe muttered.

  “So what else is new?”

  A group of men dressed in armor and wearing helmets entered the field with swords at their sides and carrying muskets.

  Suddenly ashen, Phoebe froze. “We must leave now.”

  Lee checked the tour brochure. “It’s a militia demonstration.”

  Her voice filled with terror. “Nay, we must leave. We’re not safe.”

  “All right. We’re going.” He took her hand and guided her away from the presentation. A musket went off behind them. Phoebe nearly dragged him to the safety of the car. At least they had a lead as to what troubled her.

  * * *

  14

  Phoebe

  The Arrohateck resisted the intrusion of the growing fortification by shooting arrows into the fort. Silver Eagle was amongst the more daring when he joined a band of warriors one eve. They shot arrows through all of the doors and escaped unharmed. None of these actions dissuaded the English, and the Citie of Henricus was established. As time went on, an uneasy peace descended betwixt the Indians and English, for the paramount chief’s favorite daughter, Pocahontas, had married Master Rolfe.

  And curious lads grew into men. Not only did Towering Oak survive his snakebite, he and Sparrow Hawk went through the huskanaw, a grueling ordeal held in the wilderness. Upon reaching their warrior status, they took men’s names. From then on, Towering Oak became Lightning Storm, and Sparrow Hawk was called Two Wolves. Bright Path reached womanhood afore I and, to my disappointment, married Two Wolves.

  Upon reaching my fourteenth season, my moon time began. Like all Arrohateck women, I isolated myself from the men, for their hunting prowess could be harmed by blood from the womb. In seclusion, the women found relief from heavy day-to-day work. Because no other women had their moon time, no one joined me. From the time Momma and I had been adopted, I had ne’er been alone afore.

  Momma and the other women brought me venison stew and instructed me in the ways of womanhood. Whilst I had oft heard the grunts and groans of Momma and Silver Eagle mating, from the beginning, I was taught that it was impolite to watch. I oft wondered if they were in agony and why anyone would partake in such an activity.

  The women assured me the act could be most pleasurable. Upon hearing their confessions, Momma blushed. I saw longing in her eyes, and when the other women left, I asked, “Momma, do you miss the colony?”

  Tears misted in her eyes. She clutched my hand. “Phoebe...”

  I couldn’t remember the last time Momma had used my English name. “We could return for a visit,” I suggested.

  Her grip grew tighter. “We can ne’er return. Their ways are different. They would put me to death for abandoning the colony.”

  “Why would they execute you for choosing the chance of life o’er certain death?”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and patted my hand. “We shall not speak of it again. Suffice it is to say, th
eir ways are different. You are a woman now, and you shall marry soon.”

  Aft Momma left, I set to work on my huskanasquaw dress. It was made of the softest doeskin with fringes. I decorated the dress with tiny seashells and colored beads. During the ceremony, I would be joined by other lasses who had made the transition to womanhood, and take my adult name.

  Over the next two days, the women continued to bring me food and teach my lessons. Sleeping little, I worked tirelessly on my dress. On the third eve, I heard the beat of the drum, and the hound arrived at the door of my hut. He trotted over to me and licked my hand, whining for a scrap of meat.

  When I handed him a piece of turkey from my stew, his legs lengthened. Only then did I recognize the hound as the same one that I had seen on two previous occasions. Realizing he was a spirit, I feared him. The dog now stood thigh high and was a magnificent, sleek white. His legs were well muscled, and his frame was made for coursing. His ears no longer drooped about his face, and he had a long, pointed muzzle. Only in Dorset had I seen such a fine specimen. He hunted with landed gentry.

  The dog hastened away from the hut. Fearful of what he might show me, I huddled in a corner. He soon returned to my side and uttered a pitiful whine. I covered my ears ’til I could bear it no more and agreed to do his bidding. Faster than the wind, the dog raced through the woodland with his feet barely touching the ground. He halted near a steep bank along the Powhatan River. I saw my town burning. Momma and Silver Eagle lay dead. Standing over their bodies was a bearded man in a helmet and armor. How could that be? There was peace.

  But the sleek hound led me away from the scene of destruction ’til I stood in the forest. The mist was so heavy that I could barely see. Swirling around me, the fog grew thicker and thicker ’til I blinked. I was surprised to find myself still in my hut, very much alone. The experience must be what Momma underwent during the dreaming. She had warned me that her initial journey occurred upon reaching her first moon time, as it had her mother afore her. The Arrohateck believed such visions were passage betwixt worlds.

  Disturbed by the vision, I curled on my mat-covered pallet, drawing my legs to my body. What could it mean? Totally numb, I lay there, unmoving, and did not speak of it when the women brought my meal the next morn.

  Aft the other women had left the following eve, Momma lingered behind with vexation on her face. “You’re troubled?”

  I trembled and closed my eyes. “I had a ‘dream.’ The English were making war on the Arrohateck.”

  “Hush, Phoebe.” Momma took me into her arms like she had when I was a small lass and rubbed my back. “There’s naught to fear. We’re at peace.”

  As a woman now, I was determined not to cry and drew away from Momma’s bosom. “Why did we come to Virginia?”

  “Your Poppa wanted a new life for us. You bear the witch’s mark, and I feared for your life.”

  Momma rarely spoke of my dead father, for I had long ago accepted Silver Eagle in that role. Only now was I coming to the full realization that James Towne had been part of Paspahegh land. To see things as a woman was to view them in a contrasting perspective. My dream had warned me. There would be more war. “I’m pleased that you chose to flee.”

  “I was forced to,” Momma replied softly. “You would have starved had I not.”

  “Then you long to return?”

  “Not to the colony, but Dorset. I wish to see the land of my kinsmen one last time.”

  To my memory, England was naught but a distant land. I recalled men working in hayfields with scythes. The voyage remained more prominent in my mind. Day after day of rolling waves. I was banished below deck, ill to my stomach amongst the smell of manure from the horses. All eight of them were consumed during the starving time. “I will find a way to grant you your wish.”

  A hint of a smile crossed Momma’s lips. “You’re speaking like a child once more. I shall leave you ’til the morrow. You must prepare for the huskanasquaw.”

  I returned to my bead work, and Momma gave me a parting kiss on the forehead. Soon aft her leaving, the white hound reappeared. Aware that he was a spirit, I was less affrighted than afore and followed him, seeking the message that he chose to show me. Mayhap, he would tell me the previous vision could be avoided. As we began our journey through the forest, the mist returned. Wave after wave, the fog rolled to engulf me. Up ahead, I spotted a light. With the dog in the lead, I traveled towards it.

  Upon reaching the light, I arrived at the town. Relieved to see the town hadn’t been destroyed, I felt my body sway to a drum beat. I wore my fringed doeskin and a seashell necklace. The other Arrohateck lasses who were to become women wore their huskanasquaw dresses. Aft a feast, there was more dancing.

  During the courtship dance, Lightning Storm asked me to join him. Even though my skin was pale, he fully accepted me as a member of the tribe. I had never dreamt that he might love me. The hound barked, and the mist captured me once more. I took a deep breath, again finding myself in my hut.

  Lightning Storm would become my husband, and at the huskanasquaw, I would become Walks Through Mist.

  * * *

  15

  Shae

  Phoebe didn’t blink, and Shae wondered if she should bring her out of the hypnotic state. They wouldn’t get to the bottom of what troubled the woman if she halted the sessions anytime they became uncomfortable. “Did you marry Lightning Storm?”

  “Aye. Aft he proved his love for me to my father.”

  Shae reminded herself that everything was an imaginative story from the depths of Phoebe’s mind to cover the pain she had been through. “Your father?”

  “Silver Eagle. ’Tis the Arrohateck way. A warrior must prove his love afore a father gives his blessing to marry his daughter.”

  “I see.” And Lee reminded Phoebe of Lightning Storm. That was enough for one day. “Phoebe, you will wake up in a few moments. When you do, you’ll be relaxed and content. I’ll count backward from five. When I reach one, you’ll feel totally refreshed. Five—you feel the boat riding the gentle waves. Four—as the waves return through your body, you maintain the glow of peace. Three—the waves reach your eyes bathing them in soft light, ready to awaken you. Two—you open your eyelids. One—wake up.”

  Recognition entered Phoebe’s eyes. “I had forgotten how much I had come to love Lightning Storm.”

  Shae didn’t know whether to be angry or glad that Lee had taken Phoebe to the historic park. His description of what had happened gave her an added glimpse into what troubled the woman, but they were making so little progress. “Lee says he reminds you of Lightning Storm.”

  “Aye.”

  “In what way? His looks?”

  “’Tis more than his appearance. Neath his exterior, I sense the heart of a warrior.”

  As Shae feared, Phoebe was most likely falling for Lee. She needed to talk with him. If he followed his usual pattern of getting involved with a woman for six months, then splitting, Phoebe would be devastated, maybe beyond repair in her delicate state. “I’ll see you on Friday, Phoebe. Again, don’t hesitate to call me if you need to talk to me before your next appointment.” She wished she could get Russ’s firsthand observation on her patient. She could—discretely. “In fact, my friend Russ and I are having a little get-together a week from Saturday. Just a few friends and neighbors, if you, Valerie, and any of the other women from Colwell House would like to join us.”

  “What is a get-together?”

  “A small party.” Confusion remained on Phoebe’s face. “A gathering of people where we talk, eat plenty of food, and listen to music. I’ll be certain to have a selection of seventeenth-century music.”

  “I should like to join your get-together. Would you like for me to help with the preparations? I’m familiar with cooking for feasts.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but Russ is a gourmet cook. He’ll see to all of the details.”

  “Gourmet?”

  “He’s an expert at cooking. We’ll talk socially
at the party. Meanwhile, we’ll have another session here on Friday.”

  “Thank you, Shae.”

  “You’re welcome.” Shae escorted Phoebe from her office and informed Valerie of the party plans. After returning to her office, she checked her schedule. Her next patient was due in half an hour. She picked up the phone and dialed Lee’s cell number.

  “Crowley.”

  “Lee. Shae here. I was wondering if we could meet to discuss Phoebe’s case?”

  “Sure. She’s all right, isn’t she?”

  Had there been concern in his voice? Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill. “She’s fine, but I’d prefer to discuss her case face-to-face, rather than over the phone.” They agreed for him to drop by her office around six.

  During the afternoon, Shae met with three more patients. As usual, Lee was late. She reviewed files for the following day. By 6:25, she picked up the phone to call Lee, when he walked into her office dressed in a tie and dark-brown business suit, signaling that he was still on duty.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  Shae motioned for him to have a seat across from her. “Spare me the reason. I know you had some all-important case. Let’s just discuss Phoebe.”

  Without comment, he sat in the chair she had indicated.

  “Lee, I’m concerned.”

  “So am I. The bastard who took the whip to her is still out there. Without leads, we don’t know anymore about her than we did a month ago.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what?”

  “I know Phoebe has been sharing what she recalls here with you. Obviously I can’t discuss what I’ve learned in the meantime, but I know you’re aware that you remind her of someone she once knew.”