Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) (10 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series)
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“A tunnel?”
“Yes. These branches are like hollow reeds. They connect this world to the skyworld.”
“Do I have to crawl into the tunnel?” That possibility frightened her more than Thunderbird’s wrath.
“Oh, yes, just like Snake. Tonight we’re going to prepare you to die, and—”
“What?” She swung around to stare at him.
Screech Owl’s knife halted in mid-motion. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No!” she protested. “You didn’t tell me anything at all about having to die!”
He shook his head, said, “I’m getting so forgetful,” and went back to sawing. When the very top of the tree came off in his hand, he placed prayer feathers near the trunk and sang his thanks to First Woman.
He extended the fragrant branches to Twig. “We have a lot of work to do. Let’s go home. We have to build a death litter and prepare food for you to take on your journey to the skyworld. I guess we’re actually lucky Greyhawk is here. He can help.” He studied the thick falling
snow. “And it looks like he’s going to be here for a long time.”
“Screech Owl,” she said in gut-wrenching terror, “I—I don’t want to die!”
As he got to his feet, he lowered his voice and gravely said, “That’s what happens when you step into the mouth of the Spirit that wants to chew you up. Didn’t you understand that?”
Twig’s heart slammed against her chest. “No, I … I mean, I didn’t think dreamers
really
died.”
“Well, they do. They must. Are you brave enough to walk into the Land of the Dead and face the ghosts of your ancestors?”
Twig looked down the trail and considered running away as fast as she could.
In a shaking voice, she asked, “This is what Mother feared, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “She could never cross the river that leads from life to death. She didn’t have the courage. Do you? Your people need a great dreamer, Twig, but if you are not the one, tell me now. I don’t want to waste my time on a coward.”
Twig jerked as though she’d been slapped. She was not a coward! … Was she?
She glanced up at the sky. The snow was falling heavier, turning into a blizzard. By tonight, she suspected the drifts would be almost as tall as she was.
Deep in her memory she heard the hissing of the ball
of light that thundered through her dream. If she didn’t learn to be a great dreamer, would it kill everyone she loved?
Twig exhaled a shuddering breath and said, “I’m not a coward, Screech Owl. Teach me.”
S
NOW BLEW PAST the cave outside, and Wind Woman howled like a pack of hungry dire wolves.
Twig shivered where she sat cross-legged on the floor near the fire. The flames crackled and spat, throwing Screech Owl’s gangly shadow over the walls. He bustled around the cave, singing softly while he arranged Twig’s hides on the death litter. Greyhawk crouched in the rear with a frightened, half-angry expression on his round face. When Screech Owl had told him he couldn’t go home because of the storm, he’d tried to lunge past Screech Owl into the heavy snow, but Screech Owl had grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back.
Greyhawk kept glancing outside, as though not fully resigned to his fate. Yipper slept beside the fire with his paws twitching in dreams.
“We’re almost ready,” Screech Owl said as he tied two dried eagle heads, feathers and all, to the ends of the poles.
The litter resembled a ladder, except that it had long braided hair ropes, tied into nooses, stretched out across the floor in front of it.
Greyhawk kicked at one of the feathered heads. “Do you think it’s smart to send Twig into the skyworld on scraps of her Spirit Helper’s hide?”
“She’ll be all right. My own grandfather, Silvertip, taught me how to do this.” Screech Owl grabbed a yellow basket covered with red and black designs and filled it to the brim with rabbit jerky, lake rice, and a healthy sprinkle of spruce pollen. He set the basket at the foot of the death litter.
“Now, Twig, you have to remember that if Eagle-Man decides you’re worthy, the journey will have stages. At first the road is easy, but the problems increase as you get closer to the Land of the Dead. There’s a wide, rushing river that blocks the path. Only a very good dreamer can make it across.”
“What happens if I can’t?”
In a hoarse whisper, he said, “Something might eat you.”
She stared into his unblinking eyes. They looked inhuman. “Like what?”
“Well, there are strange creatures up there. Snakes with wings. Buffalo that live under the water. I once had a toad with antlers try to gore me.” He gazed absently at the ceiling, as though remembering. “Hmm. Well, so, when you get to the river, let your team pull the weight of the litter. Don’t—”
“What team?”
Firelight reflected from his elderly face. “Your buffalo team. Spirit buffalo will pull the litter up into the skyworld. That is, if Eagle-Man agrees. He’ll have to order them to pull the litter for you, or they won’t. Buffalo almost never slip their own heads into the nooses just because a dreamer asks them to.”
She twisted her hands in her lap. “Screech Owl, are you sure I’m ready for this?”
“If we don’t try, we’ll never know, will we?”
“No, but …”
Screech Owl’s eyes went bright and alert, like a kestrel’s when feeding on a fresh mouse. “Do you want to back out?”
Twig thought about it. “Did Mother back out?”
“No, not at this point. She tried to cross the river into the Land of the Dead. It was later that she gave up.”
“That means it gets much harder, doesn’t it?”
Screech Owl put a hand against her cheek and looked straight into her eyes. “Yes. It does.”
Twig nodded. “All right. Tell me what I have to do.”
“First, you must lie facedown on the litter.”
She stretched out on the litter. The fox fur glistened in
the light as though covered with fireflies. She nuzzled its softness. “How’s this?”
“That’s good. Your chin is right over the spruce bough we cut from First Woman’s tree. It’s hidden under that top hide. Now turn your face so that your mouth rests against the fox hide.”
Twig did.
He came and crouched by her side. “No matter what happens, I want you to remember that you are not the first child to set off on this Spirit journey, and you won’t be the last. All young dreamers must do it. So, you are not alone.”
“How many have died?” Greyhawk asked.
Screech Owl looked like he didn’t want to answer that, but he said, “A few, but Twig is not going to be one of them.”
“How do you know?”
“I know because she’s going to follow my instructions perfectly, aren’t you?” Screech Owl asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, you just have to stay on your stomach with your mouth against the hide and call to Eagle-Man all night long. If he wants to, he’ll answer you.”
“And then he’ll bring the Spirit buffalo to pull my litter?”
“That’s right. Now,” he said, patting her foot, “you’d better get started.”
Twig pressed her mouth to the hides and called, “Eagle-Man? Eagle-Man, it’s me. I need you to come. Eagle-Man, please come?”
She tilted her head and saw Screech Owl take Greyhawk
by the shoulders and force him to sit down in the middle of a pile of folded wolf hides; then he began laying power objects in a circle around the bed.
Greyhawk said, “What are you doing?”
“Protecting you. No matter what, don’t leave this circle tonight.”
Greyhawk licked his lips nervously. “Why not?”
“Because any Spirit creatures that come into this cave will know
you
are not a dreamer, and they may kill you just for the fun of it.”
“Fun? Killing me would be fun?” He gave Twig a horrified glance, and Yipper seemed to understand. He started whining and trotting around the cave with his tail tucked between his legs.
Twig kept her mouth pressed against the fox hide, but her hands started to tremble. Would the Spirit creatures know that she was a dreamer? How could they tell?
Screech Owl crossed to his own bedding hides, sat down, and carefully arranged a circle of painted rocks, eagle feather fans, skulls from predators like Marten, Badger, Coyote, Mink … He hastily thrust Mink’s skull back into its basket. Instead, he picked up a huge bear paw and placed it in the circle. The long claws glimmered in the crimson glow of the fire.
Panic tingled Twig’s chest. “Screech Owl, what are you afraid of?”
“Eagle-Man is your Spirit Helper, not mine. I don’t know him as well as you do.” He flicked a hand emphatically. “Keep calling him, Twig.”
“Eagle-Man, Eagle-Man, Eagle-Man …”
Screech Owl stretched out, pulled a buffalo hide over the top of him, and closed his eyes. In almost no time, snores erupted from his mouth.
Greyhawk stayed awake a lot longer, but finally he, too, fell sound asleep.
Twig stared into Yipper’s eyes. The dog had his head propped on his paws and was watching her as though curious as to why she wasn’t asleep like everyone else.
A short time later, even Yipper abandoned her and went to sleep.
And Twig was alone.
No one could help her now. She had to do this by herself, and she knew it.
She sucked in a deep breath, and when she let it out her whole body shook in fear.
“I’m coming, Eagle-Man,” she whispered into the fox hide. “I’m coming.”
W
IND WOMAN WHIMPERED and batted at the leather curtain. Snow must have mounded into deep drifts on the rocks above the cave, because water dripped through the ceiling crack onto the glowing coals. A constant sizzling, like a snake’s hiss, filled the cave.
“Eagle-Man, can you hear me? Eagle-Man? Eagle-Man?”
Her chant became a singsong. She called for what seemed an eternity, until her soul felt numb and her body had gone past aching. Her neck hurt so badly that she feared it might snap in two if she didn’t soon roll onto her back.
She shifted to bring up her knees, feeling sneaky since Screech Owl had told her to lie flat on her stomach. But she kept her mouth pressed over the spruce bough. “Eagle-Man? Please bring the Spirit buffalo?”
The sacred symbols on the walls swayed and gleamed.
To the red spiral, she murmured, “I’m trying, Spiral. Can you help me?”
The spiral didn’t answer, and she felt very close to falling asleep, but antlered monsters that lived under water lurked just beyond the horizon of her drooping eyelids. She dared not sleep.
“Eagle-Man? Why won’t you come?”
She yawned. The tuft of branches beneath her chin made a lump under the sleekness of the worn hides. Twig blinked lazily at the threads of light reflecting on the wall.
“Eagle-Man …” Angrily, she growled, “Eagle-Man, Eagle-Man,
Eagle-Man
!”
Yipper jerked awake, stared at her as though worried, then flopped down beside Greyhawk again and closed his eyes.
More softly, Twig called, “Eagle-Man, please, I—”
A lonely buffalo called, a deep-throated rumble, trying to locate its herd in the gloom of midnight. From across the bluff, answering calls echoed. The first buffalo let out a delighted bleat, and the thundering of hooves rose in eerie cadence.
Twig’s tired body floated on the sound, rocking like a leaf in a peaceful stream. She was almost asleep when
she faintly heard the crunching of hooves in the snow outside … .
And a whisper of sound came from the branches beneath the hide.
Twig stiffened, too afraid to move. Timidly, she called, “Eagle-Man?”
“
I heard you, young dreamer. I brought the buffalo.”
An animal snuffled. She twisted around and saw two huge brown shaggy faces silhouetted in the cave opening. They had pushed the hanging aside with their noses. A fiery sheen glowed in their dark eyes. One of the buffalo took a step into the cave, a hoof lifted, waiting.
Twig got to her knees. Her throat had gone as dry as cottonwood leaves in the dusty radiance of autumn. Frightened, she croaked, “Can you tell them to pull the litter for me, Eagle-Man?”
“Yes, I’ll give them the order, if you think you’re ready.”
Twig swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. “I have to learn to dream, Eagle-Man. My people need me.”
“You are brave. Perhaps too brave. Hold on tightly. The flight into the skyworld is rocky, but the Spirits are waiting for you, Twig.”
The buffalo walked across the floor, their hooves clacking on the stone, and dipped their noses through the nooses that Screech Owl had braided from his own hair.
She took a last look at Screech Owl’s slack old face. His mouth hung open. Then she looked at Greyhawk. He’d covered his face with his hides, but she could see the outline of his sleeping body. Softly, she called, “I found
Eagle-Man, Screech Owl. Greyhawk, I’m going. I’ll try to come back to you.”
The buffalo lifted their heads and gazed at her. One flicked its tail as though waiting for instructions. Twig gripped the side poles of her death litter in tight fists. She was so scared she couldn’t think straight. But she had to do this. If she didn’t make it to the Land of the Dead, Mother and Grandfather and everyone she loved might die.
Her breathing turned shallow, and she found herself gasping for breath as she said, “I’m ready, buffalo.”
The blackness rippled around her as they soared out of the cave and into the dark stormy sky.

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