Under the Same Sky (17 page)

Then he was gone, and Soquili stood in his place, draping the blanket over my shoulders. He sat beside me again and pulled in close, lifting one side of the blanket over his own shoulder so we shared our warmth. I smiled in gratitude, but felt empty inside.

I looked into the fire, forcing reality back into my head. Wolf wasn’t here. Soquili stayed beside me, holding my hand in his.

Later that night, the longhouse was filled with women, babbling in girlish excitement. I slept on my regular pallet beside Adelaide,
but my mind was elsewhere, floating by the fire, remembering Wolf’s soft brown eyes. Every time I saw him in my visions, he seemed closer, but still so far away.
He is coming
, I told myself.
He has to come.

In the morning I awoke feeling confused. It took a moment before I remembered why. Then the evening’s intimacies raced back into my mind. Soquili. I liked Soquili a great deal. He was a good friend. His touch and his kisses felt wonderful. I wanted more.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to hurt him. If I encouraged more than a friendship with Soquili, in the end I would leave him. My heart was already claimed, by a man I knew almost as well as I knew myself. By a man I had never met, but had to believe I would someday touch.

I dressed and stepped out of the longhouse, joining some of the others who were celebrating another day. Drums were beating already, hoarse morning voices beginning to sing. I told myself I would keep a friendly distance from Soquili, but as the day went on, it became apparent he was having none of that. He was with me whenever possible, holding me, brushing his lips against my skin and hair. His arms felt good around me, his sweet mouth warm and comforting. Despite my earlier conviction to avoid precisely this kind of attention, I did nothing to stop him.

Sometime after the midday meal, we walked through the village, holding hands, headed for the corrals. We wanted to escape conversations and other people for a while. He gave a low whistle from between his teeth, and our horses broke away from the herd. They walked toward us, their dark heads bobbing with every step, and when they were close enough, Soquili leaned over to help me mount. I stepped into his interlaced fingers, and he hoisted me onto my horse’s back.

The day was hot and the breeze almost nonexistent. The sun
burned down, attracting flies to the horses so they shook their heads and whipped their tails. We guided the animals toward the trees and slipped into the forest. It was cooler beneath the oak and birch. Soquili turned his horse toward the sound of running water.

The path led up a hill, along a rough game trail that was too narrow for both horses to walk side by side. I followed Soquili, and from my vantage point I admired the smooth lines of his naked back as he flexed with his horse’s movements. Soquili glanced at me over his shoulder, smiling and talking with his hands as well as his voice. I returned the smile, encouraging the stories as I always did. His voice was gentle but confident, and it flowed like syrup.

At the top of the trail, Soquili dismounted and held my horse while I slid off, then he led the way to a pretty little glen, flickering with yellow butterflies. Rocks and flowers were scattered around a tiny stream, illuminated into a golden ribbon by the sun. Soquili sat by me at the edge of the pool.

It was wonderfully quiet away from the village. Only the cheery sounds of birds and the voice of the stream met our ears. Soquili didn’t speak, only leaned back against our shared boulder and closed his eyes.

A dead tree beside me gave no shade to the boulder. The brittle gray stubs of its branches extended like bleached-out bones, reaching for the sky despite the fact it no longer required the sun. A woodpecker hopped up and down the trunk, cocking his head at various angles, looking for food. A puff of wind fluffed the soft black and white down on his chest, but the little hunter didn’t blink. He drew back his head, then hammered into the trunk with blinding speed, puncturing the still air. A moment later, a squirming insect hung from the long black beak. The bird glanced to his left then flew off, carrying his wriggling meal.

The sound of his flight brought back to mind another bird: the
raven who had watched me that night in the forest as I lay tied and bleeding. At that time, I would have given anything for the power to fly. Now, as I breathed in the cool, clean air, gazing at Soquili and knowing he cared, listening to the unintelligible chatter in the trees around me, I had no desire to fly anywhere. My heart yearned to meet Wolf in the flesh, but I knew he would come in his own time. For now, this was my impression of heaven. I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Are you happy, Ma-kee?” Soquili asked.

“Yes.” I sighed, not bothering to open my eyes. I was smiling, though, and I heard the smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“Ma-kee?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Are you happy with me?”

The question was so simple, but finding the answer was not. I opened my mouth to speak, but he heard my hesitation. The tone of his voice changed.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked.

I opened my eyes and turned to him. He was watching me closely, his dark eyes anxious.

“No, Soquili, you haven’t done anything wrong. And everything about living in your village makes me happy. But…” I paused, not knowing if I should say anything more. No one knew about Wolf. No one but me. “There is something else, and I need to talk with you about it. It’s important.”

“What is it?” he asked. “Tell me what you need and you will have it.”

“What I need, Soquili, is for you to listen and understand.” I reached out and took his hands in mine. “It isn’t something you can do or have done. It is something I have always known.”

A flicker of unease crossed his expression. I squeezed his hands, feeling the warmth of his tough skin against my palms.

“I know it might be difficult for you to believe what I’m going to tell you. You can’t see what I do. But I need you to listen and believe what I say. It is something I have always dreamed—”

“Wait,” he said. He pulled his hands out of mine and sat up straight, evidently wanting to end the conversation. “Say no more.”

“I have to,” I said. “I can’t let you think that you and I—”

“I want you by my side, Ma-kee. I would like us to be wed.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His handsome features were drawn into a frown. Of confusion? Of anger? I couldn’t tell.

“No,” I said gently. “Soquili, the—”

“Ah, I understand,” he said, his face suddenly brightening with an easy smile. “I know why you think this. It is because you consider yourself to be a member of our clan already and know we cannot marry within our own clan. You do not need to worry about that. The law is different because you are a white woman. We have brought you into our family, but you and I can still marry. I’m sure of it.”

“No, Soquili. What I’m trying to say—”

He frowned again and looked down at his hands. “We can ask when we get back, to be sure, but I don’t think—”

“Soquili, stop. I’m trying to tell you something. I’m trying to tell you that no matter what the laws of the tribe are, I cannot marry you.”

There was a pause. I watched his expression go through a number of changes.

“You do not want me,” he stated, his words falling dead on the rocks.

“That’s not it, Soquili. What I’m trying to say is that my dreams—”

“Your dreams! Ha!” He slapped his hands on his knees and stood, towering over me. The corner of his mouth pulled in, almost into a sneer. “I knew it!”

I had never seen Soquili angry before. I didn’t dare move. His black eyes flashed on me, and he spoke in a low, growling voice.

“Your dreams, your magic, your gift from the spirit world. Pah! You can make them say whatever you want. You do not want me, you blame the dreams. You are wrong about something, and you blame them, too. If you do not want to marry me, Ma-kee, you should be strong enough to say it. And if that is so, why do you kiss me and hold my hand? Why do you look at me the way you do?”

“I—” I said in a tiny voice, but stopped, having no idea where to start.

“This is what I mean,” he fumed. “You cannot answer a question without consulting your dreams. You do not know what you want. I waited for you, Ma-kee. I trusted your eyes. Do not tell me some story about your dreams. Do not treat me like an idiot. The others may listen to every word you say, but I
know
you.”

He disappeared into the trees, crackling twigs under his feet. I didn’t watch him go, but stared at the dead tree beside me, feeling wretched.

He was right and he was wrong. To be fair, I did listen to my dreams, and paid close attention to them. But they didn’t rule my every decision. I thought for myself and always had. The dreams only provided insight and guidance.

What hurt was when he had said I didn’t know what I wanted. It hurt because in many ways he was right. I didn’t know why I allowed myself to grow close to Soquili when my heart already belonged to Wolf. I liked being with Soquili, doing what we’d been doing. Before he came along, I had never felt protected or cared for by anyone other than Wolf. I had never expected to want to touch a man after what had happened to me in the woods.

I hated that I had hurt him. That he’d felt the need to strike out
the way he did. I liked Soquili very much. But he had to understand I was never going to be his wife.

Birds began to sing after he disappeared into the trees, friendly chirps that sounded out of place after the harshness of Soquili’s voice. I listened until their songs faded into the background and the quiet claimed me. My mind opened and the images of my dreams slipped through, filling me with peace.

Wolf’s voice wove through my mind, caressing it with ancient syllables both rough and melodic. My heart reached out for more, needing to hear the words he whispered in his soft, curling accent.

As quickly as one might blow out a candle, everything went black. I was jerked from the warmth of my musings and plunged into an icy cold void. My fingers cramped around something hard and impenetrable—metal bars. The stench of death flooded my senses like water, and I thought it might be my own. Panic rose through me, and I knew I had to get out, I had to—

Soquili woke me, his hands tight on my arms as he shook the sleep from me. His eyes were concerned, his brow creased. I heard him call to me, but couldn’t make out the thick syllables. As my mind cleared, so did his words.

“Ma-kee! Wake up! I am here, Ma-kee, I am here,
gugegui,
” he cried in halting English, using the Cherokee endearment for “love.”

I awoke slowly, my eyes still blurred. I blinked up at him from where I lay against the boulder, not understanding.

“You screamed, Ma-kee. But you are safe with me.”

He stroked my hair and freed it from the clinging sweat on my neck. I felt breathless, as if I’d been running for hours, as if I would never breathe deeply again. I raised myself to my elbows and looked into his eyes. I knew that fear dominated my expression. There was no way to disguise it.

“Soquili, something very wrong is coming. It is something I
know
, like when Grandmother Waw-Li knows something. It is coming and it is very bad, very
uyoi.
”

He shook his head, brow creased, and tried to talk me off the precarious cliff where I teetered in my mind.

“There is nothing wrong, Ma-kee. There is only
dohiyi
,” he said, trying to calm me. Peace. There is only peace.

But I knew otherwise. There was no peace in that silent black hole. I sat all the way up, and he put his arm around my shoulders for support. I was trembling. He must have felt it.

“Soquili, you know about my dreams.”

He nodded and sighed. “Of course,” he said, looking resigned. “Everyone knows. I do not wish to talk about them.”

“I know that. But I need to. I can’t look away from them like you can. They are real,” I whispered. “What I see
will happen
.”

He examined the broad palms of his hands. He knew he should believe. Everything in his culture taught him to accept what I was saying. After a moment he raised his eyes to meet mine.

“What did you see, Ma-kee?”

I paused. What
had
I seen? Nothing. It was what I had heard, what I had felt. The words rushed out.

“I saw black and felt death and it was cold. I was alone and—”

“You felt death? Whose?”

“I don’t know. I think mine,” I said, frowning and shaking my head. “But I couldn’t really tell. I only knew it was something I couldn’t prevent. Something very wrong. Something I…” I trailed off, no longer looking at him, trying to sort through the images.

He must have sensed my frustration because he grasped my shoulders and pulled me to him. He folded me into his arms and rested his chin on my head. His lips brushed over my hair and I closed my eyes, feeling the steady pulse that beat slowly in his throat. I wanted
to cry from confusion; I wanted to be held. We sat silently like that, listening to the leaves and the water, waiting for my heart to slow.

“I will keep you safe,” he told me. “We will not talk of the future today. But you do not need to feel fear. As long as you are beside me, no harm will come to you.”

PART 4: ANDREW

Toward the Sea