The Wolf the Wizard and the Woad Read online

  "Child, stop that this minute! Young girls can't use a bow and arrow. They can be dangerous. Drop them now."

  But Ci-Cero was too far into the process to stop her movements.

  THWACK!

  The arrow had flown through the air and squarely pierced the side of his hut with a loud thud. This was not a skill women in his tribe possessed. Further, he recognized this skill came naturally to Ci-Cero, and he was not sure what to do with this new knowledge.

  "Spirit, forgive her. She’s just a child and doesn't understand the ways of our tribe. We must continue to teach her."

  Tuutan was afraid Ci-Cero may have angered the spirits. She had broken the normal rules of behavior expected of females in the tribe. Should he report her to the chief? He would need to ponder this for a while.

  Several days passed, and the sky didn't fall as Tuutan had feared. So, having received his omen from the Great Spirit regarding Ci-Cero, he began to teach her. As Tuutan learned during the process of working with her, Ci-Cero’s people were different in many respects than his. In her tribe, women and men were all taught to use the bow and spear, and how to trap animals.

  Still, Tuutan would need to figure out how he might best work with her, as she was much smaller than his usual students.

  Chapter 7

  S

  hortly before the coming of the Summer Solstice, the Sohochee prepared to make their annual trip to the Great Water. Chief Austenaco called them to the campfire. "Come, let us travel to Ama, the Great Water, and immerse ourselves in her bosom. She will cleanse us and make us whole again." This cleansing symbolized they were once again free of transgressions they may have committed, and that they had been renewed by the Great Spirit.

  The trip took several days, as Ooma insisted they go to a distant beach many miles from their village and even farther from the beach where they had found Ci-Cero. A few days after they had discovered Ci-Cero on the shore those many years ago, Ooma had issued an order:

  “We must never return to the site where Ci-Cero was found, the site of the standing boulders. The memories could be too painful for the child. And though the spirits brought her to us, we must not try their patience. We must not return to that place.”

  No one dared question the wisdom of the medicine woman.

  So, even though years had passed, no one had returned to that beach since then. First of all, it was several days’ walk, but mostly they feared another catastrophe could befall them if they went back. No sense chancing that.

  On the evening of the Summer Solstice celebration, after all had drenched themselves in the Great Water, they built a large fire and ate their evening meal. As they finished their cleaning up, Ci-Cero presented herself to Ooma.

  "Ooma, the Spirits have presented me with my moon time. It is a time of great ritual and celebration in my village across the great ocean. The girls would be draped with flowers and given drinks made by the medicine woman. Is it the same here?"

  “What? But that can’t be. You're only a child still,” exclaimed Ooma.

  And yet, even as small as Ci-Cero was, it was evident her body was beginning to change, and her legs and arms had indeed gotten longer. She also moved differently than the child they had brought into their community. When they first found her, Ooma had guessed Ci-Cero to be about five or six years of age. Apparently, that was an erroneous assumption. Now, some six years later, Ooma realized Ci-Cero must have been a bit older, perhaps seven or eight.

  Then she must be thirteen or fourteen years by now. I expect she’ll be seeking a mate shortly, Ooma thought to herself.

  But as another year passed, it was obvious this was not the path Ci-Cero would follow. In the Sohochee tribe, the young women found a mate by their fourteenth or fifteenth year, but Ooma feared Ci-Cero would never have a mate, as the young males found her unattractive.

  LONE HAWK WAS TAUNTING Ci-Cero, which was a daily occurrence these days. He couldn’t understand why this girl was allowed to shoot a bow and arrow and learn alongside him and the other braves. That was not the way of the tribe.

  "You aren't really Sohochee. Sohochees have dark hair and dark eyes. You have flaming hair and your skin looks like the underbelly of a fox. And you can't throw that spear as far as I can," he yelled.

  That was true. She couldn't throw as far, but when she did throw, she never missed her target. It would take a strong, confident brave to think he could spend much time with Ci-Cero.

  Coming in from another of her all-day scavenging trips, Ci-Cero's sheepskin pouch was so full it was overflowing. The pouch tied up on her shoulder and went around her waist, with several pockets in which to put herbs, plants, or berries.

  "Ooma, look what I found in the forest. Lots of berries and roots, and a surprise." All her pockets were stretched to capacity, and one appeared to be moving. As she brought out her day's gatherings from her many pockets, she saved the “moving” one for last.

  Looking down inside the pocket, she grinned as a small, white, furry head poked out and looked around, its long whiskers twitching about. The critter jumped out, scampered across Ci-Cero’s lap, and ran down onto the clay floor. It then raised up on tiptoes and walked around sniffing every corner of the room, bringing great hoots of laughter from the other children.

  "Ci-Cero, you know I hate rats," screamed Ooma, stepping back out of reach of the critter.

  "She's not a rat, Ooma, she's a ferret. I found her down in a deep hole on the creek bank. She raced out when I poured some water down her hole, so I put her in my pouch and brought her home.”

  Rakki gave the critter a quick once-over sniff and decided she was acceptable.

  "At home the hunters used them. They’re good at finding small, edible animals, like rabbits, that live down holes. Old Rusephus, the leather maker, says they’re just pests, but I took them to him and he’d let them run around his shop so Makeesa and I could play with them. They’ll cuddle up with you at night, and sleep down at your toes."

  When night came, the small ferret, which Ci-Cero named Toes, found a warm place under Ci-Cero’s blanket and burrowed her way down.

  Chapter 8

  T

  eaching Ci-Cero medical skills was a natural and pleasant task for Ooma, and the girl was becoming quite a medicine woman in her own right. It probably had something to do with the fact MiMi and GrandMiMi held those positions in her tribe back home.

  "Ci-Cero, this particular herb has an unusual smell, but you must learn to recognize it for you’ll use it in many ointments and tinctures."

  Ci-Cero took one whiff and drew her head back. "I already recognize it. GrandMiMi smelled like that sometimes after she crushed her herbs at home, like some kind of spice.”

  “It’s a very useful herb called yarrow, so learn where to find it and how to mix it with other herbs. But remember, if you use too much, it can cause bleeding.”

  Much time was spent learning herbal remedies, recognition of plants and where to find them, and Ci-Cero's keen sense of smell was most definitely a plus for this work.

  OOMA KNEW BEYOND ANY doubt that Ci-Cero's day of departure was near. The dreams that had plagued her since the day of her arrival in the village were occurring more often, and the messages they brought were even more insistent. Ci-Cero had tried to describe the dreams to Ooma, but found it difficult to put them into words.

  After one particularly restless night, with Ooma coming to Ci-Cero's bedside to comfort her, the medicine woman tried to get Ci-Cero to talk about her dreams.

  "Here, drink this tea. Tell me about your calling, this belief you are waiting for someone or something to direct you. It may just be your imagination," said Ooma.

  Ci-Cero sat with her legs crossed, sipping her tea. “It’s just a sense of knowing that I am being called to a place unknown to me, but that it is a place of refuge, where one is safe. But, why am I being called? Is it the Goddess calling? Papi told me she would send others to help me. Are you and the tribe ‘the others?’ But then, who is the one I must se
ek? Where do I find that one? Where is my family? Did any of them survive? And how am I to lead my people? Must I cross the great ocean?” Ci-Cero voiced these questions, but no answers were forthcoming.

  Ooma truly did understand Ci-Cero’s dilemma, more than anyone knew. She’d also been “called” when she was a young woman, and like Ci-Cero, the voice in her head wouldn’t go away. Unable to ignore it any longer, she’d sat in the shade of a willow tree on the riverbank and opened herself to hearing its message. The voice came in a whisper on the wind, just as it had with Ci-Cero.

  Ooma, open your mind. Listen. Your chosen path will lead you to unknown peoples and you will roam the earth and spread your skills and wisdom. You have been chosen, but the decision must come from your heart. Consider carefully—once you answer the call, there is no turning back.

  Ooma did consider carefully before making her decision. “Great Spirit, I am but a humble medicine woman who is honored to have been chosen to serve. But my heart tells me I must stay here with my own people, tend to their needs. I will obey my heart and know you will understand my reasons even better than I.”

  Had she been a bit older, she may have responded differently. But at the time, she was in love with a handsome young brave and had hopes of bonding with him and having a family of her own, a wish that never came to pass.

  Even though Ooma refused the calling, the Great Spirit gifted her with some special abilities, including the ability to communicate with other "called ones" if she was in a desperate situation. She respected these gifts and never abused them.

  Chapter 9

  E

  vening came and Ci-Cero and Ooma prepared to retire. They often talked into the night, as something about the darkness allowed discussions that couldn’t be had in the daylight. Ci-Cero lay next to her Sohochee mother, knowing it would be the last evening they slept side by side. She felt the Presence keenly these days and knew the time for her journey had come. She must tell Ooma.

  “The calling is constant. The Presence is close. I feel it more every day. Must I follow?”

  Ooma ran her fingers through one of Ci-Cero’s curls, twisting it about her fingers. She’d known this time would come, but knowing didn’t ease the pain in her heart. She turned on her side, facing Ci-Cero, and continued to wind the hair around her fingers.

  “The elders tell stories of an Ancient One who is the Keeper of the Memories and the Keeper of Knowledge. Some say he is a master potter who creates magnificent pots—and whispers the Memories in them. Others say he is a spirit and only some can find him. Some say it is just a tale. But perhaps this is the one who whispers to you, who calls you. Only you can decide to answer this call or not. But know that I and all of this tribe will forever keep you in our hearts, and your name, Ci-Cero, one with hair of flames, will be spoken of with love and respect. We know you must seek your kind, your family, but you always have a home with us."

  Ci-Cero touched Ooma's hand briefly, then turned over on her pallet and placed an arm over Rakki. She was not surprised to hear faint whispering as she drifted into the dreamland she was so familiar with.

  The next morning, following another night of dreams and someone calling, Ci-Cero arose early. She’d made her decision.

  "Come, Rakki, it's time for us to leave. We can wait no longer. The Presence will not rest until I make this journey."

  The dreams of the night before still twisted through her mind as she readied herself to travel. She gathered her supplies, namely food, a small spear, and most importantly, fresh water for a trip that may last a long time.

  The small, forlorn child the tribe had adopted so long ago had become a young woman who had never lost her desire to complete a task assigned to her in another lifetime. On this day, the day she would leave, Ci-Cero walked out of Ooma’s hut and felt the first pangs of departure. The entire tribe had gathered to say their goodbyes to her, an adopted child who had found her way into many hearts.

  She looked at them, scanning every face as if to remember it. She then knelt before the great chief and made her final request.

  "Chief Austenaco, you are the great leader of a great people. You sheltered me and cared for me when I could not care for myself. Today I leave you, but know that even if I find my people, they will never replace you and my Sohochee brothers and sisters—a part of my soul will remain here. Though my skin, hair and language differ from yours, our hearts are the same. I ask your blessing for my journey."

  Austenaco was wise enough to understand Ci-Cero was unique and knew her departure would leave an emptiness that would be difficult to fill. He lifted her from her knees and placed his forehead against hers, a gesture that indicated his thoughts were with her now and would remain with her.

  "My blessings go with you, my child with hair of flames. You will forever live in our hearts." There could be no greater blessing.

  As they gathered around, there were tears, for many of them cared for her and knew she had brought a richness to the tribe. Only when she was gone would they fully understand how much she meant to them.

  Ci-Cero had great difficulty saying goodbye to old Tuutan, of all people. He came forward, pants barely hanging on his hips, and held out an item wrapped in soft skins. Ci-Cero took it, removed the wrapping, and smiled.

  “A bow? You’ve made a bow for me?” She was never so surprised. She’d been such a pain in his side that this was an unexpected gesture.

  “Yes, this bow is much smaller than the ones I usually make, but I think it will be just right for you.”

  The bow was uniquely sized for her small stature, for even though almost fully grown, she was a very small woman, as were her female ancestors across the Great Water.

  Ci-Cero looked carefully at the bow then back to Tuutan. “You've carved my clan's symbols on it."

  Tuutan never understood the unusual symbols drawn on her arms in blue ink, but had etched them into the bow. It was a work of art. Ci-Cero embraced him, after which he made a quick exit, hurrying off to his hut. No need to show his emotions to the entire tribe.

  The most difficult parting was, of course, with Ooma. She had filled a void no one else could. Ci-Cero was sure the Goddess had brought them together, and her love for Ooma was as great as the love she still felt for her birth mother. Ironic though it was, her own mother had left her, and now she must leave this mother. She was sorely tempted to abandon her quest.

  But Ooma, behaving as the loving mother she was, insisted Ci-Cero complete this journey, as her birth mother had wanted.

  “Ci-Cero, you must go. The Presence will guide you, but you must believe in yourself and your abilities. You are chosen. And never forget the warning in the legend of the veil. Don’t forget about the evil one that wants to steal your gifts and power. That one will never stop in its quest to keep you from your destiny. Always be on guard. Watch for it.”

  Ci-Cero held her arms tightly around Ooma. Words were unnecessary. Their bond was unbreakable. Ooma released her daughter and walked away, making it easier for Ci-Cero to leave.

  Ci-Cero took a last look at her Sohochee family. “I'm ready. May the Goddess hear me and know I am afraid, but willing."

  She turned and walked away, Rakki at her side and Toes buried in her pouch.

  Chapter 10

  A

  fter several days of struggling to complete the simplest of tasks, Ooma was beside herself with frustration. "I know she had to answer the call, but I'm unable to concentrate on anything, even my daily chores. This is not the way a wise medicine woman behaves," she yelled.

  Her comments were meant for her ears only, but anyone within a stone’s throw could have heard her. The anxiety she’d been struggling with had won this battle and she knew what she must do.

  With great reluctance, she made her decision, a dangerous one at that. She would perform the sacred Fire Ritual, a ritual that would allow her to see visions of future events. The ability to perform the ritual was one of the gifts the Great Spirit had bestowed on her, and this ritual
was not to be undertaken lightly as there was an element of danger involved—the possibility that one may become part of the vision and never return.

  As the sun began its slow dance down into the treetops, Ooma gathered the necessary items and went deep into the forest. When she arrived at a small clearing, she took a long branch and fashioned a large circle, drawing it carefully with great precision.

  She brought a bundle of twigs from various trees and plants and placed them around the perimeter of the circle. These plants were chosen carefully, as only particular ones could be used.

  Satisfied she had properly prepared the space, Ooma sprinkled cedar, sage, and tobacco over the twigs then lit them and watched as the flames grew higher and higher, crackling and licking their blistering tongues toward the swaying treetops.

  "With these offerings I ask your guidance." With that final prayer she tossed her head back and began her chant.

  “KOYO, KOYO, CHACA CHACA NEE. KOYO, KOYO, CHACA CHACA NEE.”

  A great flock of blackbirds streaked across the horizon and swooped down close to the flames, then darted back to the sky. Over and over they executed this carefully choreographed dance and the chanting grew louder as Ooma lifted her hands to the heavens and began her prayer of beseechment.

  "Great Spirit, enter this place. I am in need of your wisdom."

  Stepping into the circle of fire, she hollowed out a small indentation precisely in the center of the circle. Then she reached into her basket and brought out an earthenware bowl, a bowl that was very precious to her. Perfectly created from deep-red clay, this particular bowl had been immersed in fire, and trails from that smoking fire were embedded on the edges. It was exquisitely carved with renderings of animals, some that Ooma recognized, but others that she did not.