"Put out the fire. Return everything back to the way it was. Erase our presence here. Fifteen minutes."
All three jump up and get busy. In five minutes, the fire's out, scattered and blended back to the earth. They carry all the bedding needles back to the junipers and spread them beneath the ancient branches. Bae feels like a painter as he scatters dirt and debris, creating a natural scene on the canvas of the cave floor, back to what it was before they arrived.
Chapter 62 - Journey
G, Bae, and Ever make their way onto the mesa top and turn northeast. G has them moving at a quick pace, increasing the distance between them and the dark medicine man. The boy's happy to follow the old man. He feels safe between Jure and Ever, in their old traveling formation. But the icy numbness lingers inside him, around his heart.
As they walk, G drops off the top of the mesa to a shelf 25 feet lower. Walking on top is easier but too dangerous. He explains that the bad medicine man might be hunting them and would use the top to cover ground. G is choosing paths less expected. Below them, the cliff drops for hundreds of feet, certain death should any of them slip.
The shelf pushes Bae's fear to its limit. He doesn't look down but keeps his eyes focused forward and follows G closely, amazed at the old man's confidence negotiating their route. As for Ever, the boy's too afraid to turn and look back to check her position. Accidentally glancing at the ledge and open space beyond makes him dizzy. He pauses, then starts again, staring straight ahead at G's heels.
By late morning, they are off the ledge, on level ground. The mesa ended abruptly, like the bow of some gigantic battleship. The path down off the ledge was a combination of sliding on loose scree down the flanks and bracing themselves on scattered juniper and pinyon pine branches and roots perched precariously on the mesa flanks.
Now, they sit in the shade of a juniper in a dry wash at the bottom of the mesa. All three quietly chew venison, hidden from view by the low bows. Bae picks off a blue juniper berry, sniffs and looks at G. The old man nods, and Bae pops the berry into his mouth. Sour! A strong bitterness blended with a sour aftertaste overwhelms his taste buds. He quickly spits it out. G grins. Ever laughs.
"That sucks!" Bae says, still spitting out small pieces of the skin. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Now you'll never forget the taste," G says. "It has medicinal value."
"That stuff?" Bae scoffs.
"Yep," Ever adds. "Helps with indigestion and kills gut parasites. It's also good for the spirit." She grins. "Sometimes the best medicine tastes the worst."
G now laughs.
"True, Granddaughter."
Bae picks off another berry and eyes it suspiciously. He does not pop this one in his mouth but is curious about how something so bitter can be good for you. He drops the berry into his front pants pocket, adds a few more, and goes back to chewing the venison.
Above them, the sky is mostly clear: no thunderhead clouds out west yet, though they might build up early afternoon and drop their water not long after.
The high desert air has quickly dried the rain-drenched soil in only a day. The dry heat has pulled the moisture out of the ground, making travel easier. Walking in the clay and mud during the storm was nearly impossible. Now, the trio is able to move fast, putting more distance between themselves and the hunters.
As they set off again, and with time to think, the boy wonders how far to the clan camp. Mileage doesn't mean much out here, though, so he keeps quiet.
"Two nights, and we'll be at our camp," G says. "In case you're wondering."
Bae is finding these perfectly timed insights from the old man less shocking the more time he spends with him.
"Is that our canyon, G?" Ever asks.
Crossing a high plateau, they have a clear view to the distant north. Bae stops and turns around. Ever is pointing to the left of their line of travel. He turns to follow her direction.
"Yes, Granddaughter. You have sharp eyes."
Bae strains to see the canyon but only sees flat landscape that eventually rises into tree-covered hills—mountains, really. He recognizes the mountains. They are the same ones he saw in the distance when he was with Ghost. He remembers how he felt drawn to those mountains, to their isolation in a vast flat land. The four peaks in formation around each other, rising out of the flat desert, look like forested monoliths from some ancient world.
"Is the canyon in those mountains?" Bae asks.
G stops. He also looks in the direction of the four peaks.
"No, son. The canyon sits just before those peaks. Hard to see from here unless you know what to look for."
Bae only sees the forested peaks. Nothing indicates a canyon around their lower slopes. But he burns the picture into his memory. If he gets separated from these two, he at least knows which direction to go.
The old man starts walking again. The other two follow. On a path of red-brown soil, the three walkers use the brush and scattered pinyon and juniper as cover. Occasionally, G and Ever, and now Bae, glance side-to-side and behind, watching, scanning for any sign of the dark medicine man following them.
Chapter 63 - Juniper Berry
In the two days of quiet travel after climbing down from the mesa, G, Ever, and Bae keep their course north toward the four peaks, their progress slow but steady. At night, G sets a watch. Each of them takes a turn until sleep is too hard to keep away. To Bae's chagrin, he never lasts long at his post. He fatigues quickly. If his short stints upset Jure and Ever, they don't show it, though. Instead, Bae notices Jure studying him at times, not in an obvious way, but the boy can tell he's being focused on, especially at night.
What Bae never shares with either G or Ever is the coldness in his chest. It feels like it's growing, and his wound now is a dull ache. Subtle. Cold. Constant. It's manageable during the day, allowing him to keep up the old man's fast pace. But the night's a different story.
Part of his fatigue is the icy grip that's growing around his heart as he sits on watch. By the second night, the fatigue is so great that he's seeing phantoms in the darkness out on the landscape. He shakes his head to clear it, but the strange shapes refuse to dissipate. He means to call G, whose turn it is to watch. G always follows Bae's watch. But the fatigue weighs heavy on his eyelids, pulling him into its cocoon of unconsciousness. The phantom shapes still glide through the night air as his eyes close.
The ancient chamber. He's back in the dark place. This time, he's propped against cold stone, sitting with his feet under him, the way he's sitting at his watch-post. Is he still on watch or dreaming?
The eyes, the red points, move toward him, like in the first dream but faster this time. His chest tightens with the icy cold. The eyes focus on him and bore down, intent on trapping him in their grip. Like before, he tries to cry out, but there's only silence.
He falls towards them, helpless.
~
A voice. Familiar. A smell, familiar, too. Both register in his mind and catch him from succumbing to the eyes in the dream. The refreshing smell clears his mind and breaks the spell of the eyes. He hears his name again. The eyes go out. The pungent smell burns away the darkness, and he opens his own eyes.
"Bae."
It's G's voice. A smoking bundle of white sage is almost touching Bae's chest, below his chin. This smell he knows. The boy takes a deep breath, his sight clears, and his mind forgets the eyes, for now. The old man's face is inches from his.
"Bae," G calls again. "Can you hear me?"
Bae stares at G's face, unable to speak. He manages a weak smile and gazes at the age lines etched across the old man's forehead. Crow's feet stretch out from the outer edges of his eyes. The grey stubble of his beard barely hides a finger-length scar on his left cheek. Many stories are written in the cracks and crevices of his face, framed by long grey-white hair. The eyes, dark and deep, have flecks of gold in the irises, like his mother's eyes.
/> "Hi," Bae manages to say.
G scowls, that look of concern Bae recognizes. Then he smiles and turns toward a small fire off to his right, the first fire since they fled the storm cave.
"Bring the tea, Ever."
The girl gives G a small, steaming gourd.
"Drink this, son."
Bae obeys. It's warm, not hot, so he drinks it down. At first, the bitter taste repulses him. Then he recognizes it. Juniper berries! It's awful. But G makes him finish it.
The warm, bitter brew spreads from his stomach into his whole abdomen, then to his arms, legs, and up to his head. Bae's astounded at the effect the berries have on his body. His head clears even more than it did with the smudge. He feels his strength return. He sits up and empties the gourd, ignoring the bitterness.
"I know," Bae says as soon as he swallows the last mouthful. He wipes his chin. "Sometimes the best medicine tastes the worst."
All three laugh, breaking the apprehension around the fire. The boy's spirits lift, backing off the iciness in his chest.
Chapter 64 - Home
"Can you travel?"
"I think so."
"We have a half day's walk to our camp."
"Okay."
It's an hour past first light, and Bae sits with his back against a large boulder. Ever and G sit cross-legged facing him. Between them, a small bundle of sage-leaves smolders on a flat rock. The grey smoke gracefully rises between them in the still air.
Like the two previous days, the final leg of their journey is uneventful. No hunters. No downpour of rain. Just hours of walking across a terrain that, in the past few hours, has changed again. Trees appear, sparsely dotting the landscape: ponderosa pines, thirty-to-forty feet in height. Mixed with the sweet-scented pines are meadows bursting with blue, purple, and yellow wildflowers and stands of mullein.
Bae knows about the mullein plant. It's a fire starter. The tall, slender stalk makes a dependable hand drill, a much simpler technique for making fire than the bow drill. Watching Ever get a coal from her hand drill spindle convinced the boy he needed to learn. He considers harvesting a stalk or two from the mullein here, but knows now is not the time. Their destination is near, and there's no time for delays. Bae notices G's movements have changed. The old man's pace is quicker, a lighter step to an already silent gait.
Bae searches for his own feeling of anticipation. But it's not there. Something is still wrong inside him. The pressure on his chest and in his heart is still there. At times, his vision blurs, and a dark line appears at the edge of his sight. He clears it when he blinks, but after a time it comes back. He says nothing to the other two. Why burden them with this new revelation? He's tired of being the burden.
G's hand goes up. All three halt. They stand on the rim of a canyon that, until moments ago, was hidden by the trees and rolling landscape. Bae never saw it as they approached. It seemed to appear out of nowhere.
G stands next to a tree and looks over the edge. He motions Bae and Ever forward. Without turning, he signals for them to squat as he drops low himself. They come forward, cautiously. Bae has learned that they must approach every new area with caution, especially areas that might expose them. They gaze down into a beautiful canyon. Across the open space, he sees the skirts of the mountains only a few miles beyond. Ponderosa pines cover the four peaks like a thick green blanket. Below, in the canyon, more pines dot the floor, as well as the light green of cottonwood and aspen trees.
This canyon is much larger than the one Bae and Ghost camped in. Meadows scattered across its floor are small pools of yellow, purple, and blue.
"Wow," Bae says.
G and Ever look at Bae and he at them. He sees a calmness in their eyes.
"Yes," G says. His voice reverent. "It's a beautiful place."
"Where is camp?"
G points past Bae, northeast.
"We're in that little box canyon."
The old man searches for a way down to the canyon floor. He moves east along the rim and then stops. He looks back at Bae and points to a spot on the ledge. Rabbitbrush and snakebroom grow thick here, and as the boy looks closer, he detects a break in the bushes where a trail begins. The bushes make it nearly impossible to detect except by those with keen eyesight. The old man makes it look easy. He found the trail without breaking his stride.
At the bottom of the trail, the temperature is cooler. They snake in and out of shade across the canyon floor to the box canyon entrance. Staying to one side, all three stand and wait. The old man cups his hands around his mouth and makes a high-pitched whistle. Not too loud, but penetrating. He waits. Ever and Bae watch. Only silence returns from inside the canyon. He makes the sound again and waits. Nothing. One more time, he cups his hands around his mouth and whistles.
The silence stops the old man, and he motions them to retrace their route farther back into the larger canyon. He squats next to a large cottonwood a hundred yards from the opening. Ever and Bae follow and join G within whispering distance. Slender willow brush stalks surround them, offering cover.
"What's wrong, G?" Ever asks. "The watcher should have heard you."
G's expression is withdrawn for a moment. The old man comes back, from what seems to Bae like daydreaming, and looks at Ever.
"Something's wrong," he says, voice low. "It feels quiet in there." He looks through the willows into the vastness of the big canyon. "I don't like it."
"Let's go in, G," Ever says impatiently. "We can stalk in and see what's up."
"No."
Ever frowns.
"It feels . . . unsure. Dangerous."
Jure picks up a small stick and draws a half circle with a bubble coming off the top. Then he draws a line that snakes just outside the bubble.
"This is the watch-post trail." He points at the line outside the bubble. "We'll take it to the watch-post. There's a clear view of camp from there and enough cover to keep us hidden as we look."
Ever nods, abandoning her idea of going in through the front door. After a careful scan, the three walkers pass across the opening to the opposite side. In a few strides, a small trail appears on their left. It leads up the canyon side. They deftly move onto the trail and disappear through a gap in some low-growing scrub oak. Ten minutes later, they are on the rim of the side canyon, its ledge lower down and within the larger canyon beyond. A short hike of a quarter mile, and they are sitting at the watch-post looking down into the quiet clan camp. The watch-post is deserted.
The only sound or movement comes from the breeze rustling cottonwood leaves and softly hissing through ponderosa pine needles. It's peaceful, but uncertain. Bae glances at G for a hint of what happens next. Ever speaks, whispering.
"Where is everyone, G?"
"I don't know, granddaughter. Nothing moves down there."
"Are there shelters?" Bae asks.
"Yes. Along the canyon wall, hidden from above and from anyone standing at the front of the canyon."
Ever is restless. "We have to go look, G," she says, her voice wavering.
G doesn't answer, but continues to stare into the small canyon. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly. He does this three times. Bae studies the old man's action and recognizes the faraway look in the old man's eyes. It reminds him of the way Grandfather taught him to look at the world, relaxed and in a wide-view way of observing everything at the same time. Grandfather told Bae it's a way to open up the senses and perceive all that's going on around him. Bae decides to try this on the camp below.
He takes in a slow breath, relaxes his eyes, and attempts to stop the random thoughts and questions in his mind. With each breath, he manages to quiet the chatter by degrees until it's a whisper. He takes another breath, holds it, and lets it go. Staying in wide-view, he gazes down into the canyon.
Everything changes, and Bae is launched backwards, landing in a sprawled position with legs toward the canyon
rim. He finds he's staring at the dome of the sky, at the familiar red tint across the stratosphere. How he got into this position, he's not sure, so he doesn't move. G and Ever spring after him, crouching on either side.
"Bae," G whispers, urgency in his voice. "Look at me."
The old man puts the palm of his hand on Bae's forehead, his other hand on the boy's heart, and leans closer.
"Bae. Can you hear me?"
"Yes," Bae says. "I can."
Bae's eyes find G's and he sits up. G helps him while Ever brushes dirt and twigs off his back and shoulders. The old man shifts his right hand to Bae's shoulder. Bae continues to stare at him.
"I saw bodies, G. I don't know how or why. It felt so real."
"What were you doing just before you fell back?" G asks.
"I was using the wide-view that Grandfather taught me, to see to the bottom of the canyon."
The old man stares at the boy, nods, then looks back to the edge of the canyon.
"I also tried the wide-view," G says. "But I'm too close to the people down there and not able to get a clear picture." He looks back at Bae. "Go wide-view again and hold the picture in your mind. Tell me what you see and feel."
"No, G," Bae says, visibly shaken. "It's horrible."
"Try!" the old man commands. "This is important, Bae." His voice softens. "If you choose to use wide-view, you are responsible for what it shows you."
"Okay."
Bae takes in a breath and relaxes. His fear's still there, so close it almost makes him panic. Another breath and the panic fades. In the back of his mind, he takes note of how quickly it happens, then turns his focus to the bottom of the canyon.
He has the picture now, in his mind, detailed like before. But this time, he holds the image long enough to feel what the picture wants to show him. His stomach knots, tightens so fast he turns away just in time to miss vomiting on Jure. The other two don't move, don't touch the boy. They let him finish.
"They're dead," Bae says quietly.
"Who?" G demands.
He grabs Bae by the shoulders.
"The people," Bae answers and points to the edge. "Your people," he says in a whisper. Grief floods his body. "My people."