Wind Whisperer Read online

  The day was overcast with thick, low-lying clouds that pressed down on the earth like a giant cotton blanket. It didn’t look like imminent rain, just one of those gray Pacific Northwest days, and for once, all the chores were done. Snatching the chance for some time to myself, I asked Joy if I could take a short walk on the beach. She gave her consent, and I wasted no time in dawdling. I practically ran out of the village, hoping I wouldn’t attract the notice of any kids—my loyal groupies.

  Luck was on my side. No one paid me the slightest attention and I made my escape. I flew down the beach and around the point until I was out of sight of casual observers. Slowing my pace, I strolled, taking in deep lungs full of briny air. The air was so clean and intoxicating that I felt pretty good. Everything was still a blur of conflicting images and feelings, and I’d been getting sort of numb—drained from all that had happened in the last few days—so getting away from it all felt really good.

  Spying the magnificent white skeleton of a massive storm-tossed tree—bleached roots reaching up and out like a giant’s bony hand—I sprinted over to it and climbed into its tangled, sand-smoothed arms. A wonderful piece of driftwood—one my dad would’ve used a whole roll of film on.

  Thinking about my dad brought a wave of emotion that almost drowned me. Suddenly, I lost all resolve to put up a brave front. I was sick and tired of taking it one day at a time—of worrying about Jonah every single minute. Who were we kidding? I knew right then that we’d never get home—back to our own world. We were lost—lost in a world that no longer existed. How this happened, I couldn’t begin to fathom, but here we were. For the umpteenth time, I thanked God for my cousin. At least I had him.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the smooth wood. The wind picked up and stirred the wisps of hair that had escaped my braid. The strands got into my mouth and tickled my nose. I didn’t care. I was tired—in mind and spirit, as well as in body. I let my mind go blank; releasing the pent-up fears and anxieties. I wouldn’t think about Jonah, somewhere out in the middle of the strait with Gray Otter and his buddies. I wouldn’t allow myself to worry and fret over his safety or whether he would adapt to their ways. I wouldn’t worry whether he could prove himself worthy of possessing a shaman’s spirit rattle. Jonah was self-reliant. He’d rise to the occasion like he’d been doing for the past few days. He’d already proven himself one gutsy kid. Hadn’t He-Sees-Far said so?

  A subtle noise caught my attention. I’m surprised I even noticed it over the constant groaning of the sea and the monotonous sound of waves kissing the shore, but I had. I’d heard something that didn’t belong to the on-going symphony being orchestrated all around me. I sat up and opened my eyes and found myself looking into the leering face of Sand Eater. A yelp of shocked surprise escaped before I could squelch it. The last thing I wanted was for this creep to think I was afraid of him. I glared at him with all the mock-ferocity I could muster.

  “What do you want?” I asked haughtily.

  He sneered. “You talk too much, woman. It is not fitting.”

  “I’ll talk as much as I darn well want,” I countered. “What’s it to you? And what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with the others teaching my cousin how to fish?”

  “Four is enough to teach that jelly fish anything. I would be wasting my time.”

  “Yeah? Like your time is so valuable,” I laughed harshly. “Go away, Sand Eater. I’d like to be alone if you don’t mind.”

  I don’t know what I’d expected him to do—ridicule me, or something, maybe—but I wasn’t prepared for his right arm shooting out and grabbing the front of my dress. I squeaked in absolute surprise as he hauled me off my perch and shoved me to the ground. “You. You are the consort of an evil spirit. You were sent here to bring bad times to my people. Sharp Knife is a fool. He no longer has the strength or intelligence to be chief. Because of him and his choices, we will all die.”

  I looked up at this irate young man and swallowed uncomfortably. His face mottled with emotion and droplets of saliva sprayed from his mouth as he ranted and raved. Now being alone held no allure. Now, I wished that every kid in the village would suddenly appear and prevent this ogre from doing what he might be planning to do. I couldn’t read him. I had no idea just how large his anger had grown or what he was capable of doing to feed this anger. He could do just about anything he had a mind to do—isolated like we were; hidden behind jagged, ebony rocks, and piles and piles of driftwood. I was completely at his mercy…or his whim.

  When he reached down and dragged me to my feet, a surge of defiance rushed through me. No way I’d wait passively for him to give free rein to his rage. I would put up a fight. He’d have to work at it to subdue me—and work hard. Without betraying what I had in mind, I suddenly kicked out with all my might. Even barefoot, I managed to hit him in the groin. He let out a loud bellow and doubled up in pain. I took that opportunity to run. I ran like the devil chased after me. My only mistake, I ran away from the village, not toward it.

  I ran. Blindly. My only thought, to put distance between Sand Eater and me. I couldn’t let that despicable creature come anywhere near me. But I tired too quickly. Before I’d covered a dozen yards, my strength evaporated. That’s what comes from not eating enough. I used to be fairly fit and able to run better than this. But not anymore. After over a week of hardly eating anything, I’d grown weak. I couldn’t keep up the pace. Shaking and gulping in air, I nearly stumbled headlong into a massive log lying in the sand. It took a moment for me to crawl over it—I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to go around—and it was all the angry youth needed to catch up with me. His hand grabbed my braid and pulled savagely—making my head snap back and a cry of agony escape my gaping mouth.

  “You will die for that.” he screamed into my ear. “No woman does that to me and lives.” He spat. “You are nothing but excrement under my feet.”

  That last sentence fueled what little resolve I’d left. I wriggled to free myself from his grasp, flailing my arms and kicking out with my feet. Several times I connected with shins and midriff, and several times he cried out in surprised pain. We fought for several minutes before he subdued me. With an arm around my neck and one hand holding both of mine, Sand Eater dragged me over to a large stack of driftwood. I didn’t have enough strength to fight anymore; I didn’t even have enough breath to scream. Nothing left for me to do but close my eyes and say a heartfelt prayer for my life.

  Sand Eater threw me to the ground. I’d not been prepared for the sudden jolt. Landing hard on a log, my breath swooshed out of me, leaving me gasping agonizingly for air. The angry youth kicked me in the ribs once then let out a long, hoarse cry. The next thing I knew, he vanished.

  Too stunned to move, I lay there on my back, against the bleached refuse of forgotten trees, and willed my lungs to cooperate. My head was spinning and my stomach roiling. When I tried to lift my head, black dots danced, and I had to lie down again. Sand Eater hadn’t killed me or raped me, but if I didn’t move, I would die, just the same. The tide would come in and I would drown. Or I’d succumb to hypothermia. It didn’t much matter the cause. Dead is dead. I had to get up. But at the moment, I couldn’t.

  The mist and low cloud cover thickened, and I couldn’t see more than a dozen yards in any direction. Not raining, but I was getting damp anyway, the moisture-saturated air as wet as any downpour. I kept telling myself that I needed to move or I’d die. Even though Joy’s people considered this weather tolerable and often wore little or no clothing during the summer, I had not grown accustomed to it. They might not catch cold very often, but I certainly could. And now, with the cool mist seeping into my bones, just lying on the beach without moving, I lost all feeling in my arms and legs. Now or never. I had to move. I had to go home.

  I grimaced as I pushed and struggled to sit up. Trembling, leaning against a giant white tree stump, I took a tentative step forward, then another. Home? Had I truly thought of the village as home?

  Hannah…Hannah…


  The whispering! I stopped and looked around. I couldn’t see through the thick fog. I panicked. “Yes? Yes?” I knew it couldn’t be Jonah. Jonah was with Gray Otter. Who then, made that sound? I had put the mysterious whispers out of my mind, assuming Jonah had made them, trying desperately to get my attention. Now, I thought differently. Jonah wasn’t the whisperer. But if not Jonah…then who? “Hello? Who’s there? Please. Answer me.”

  No answer.

  I willed my eyes to see through the heavy curtain that separated me from the rest of the world. But all I could make out were the surreal forms of massive driftwood formations or rocks that appeared and disappeared as the mist undulated around them like a living, pulsating entity.

  I called again, desperation making my voice crack on every other syllable. “Hello? Whoever you are, I need help. Please. Who are you?”

  No comfortingly familiar voice answered me. Only nerve-shattering silence covered me like a shroud. Again I had that last-man-on-the-planet sensation, and it unraveled every last microscopic filament of hope and courage I had.

  I couldn’t take any more. I was nothing but a rag doll that had been relegated to the junk pile. I ceased to exist. “Jonah…oh, Jonah…” I murmured before everything went dark.

  SIXTEEN – EYES OPEN

  Mrs. Carruthers, my language arts teacher, peered down at me through her Coke-bottle-thick glasses. She wore a frown so I knew I’d done something to tick her off. The trouble was, I couldn’t think of a single thing that could’ve brought on such disapproval. I’d copied one of Marisa’s comp questions. Would that’ve made her this mad?

  “Mrs. Carruthers…I…please…I’m sorry. You see, I did my homework, but then my dad spilled his coffee—no, please. He really, really did. Honest. I know it sounds lame, but…”

  Mrs. Carruther’s plump face dissolved into my Aunt Patricia’s. As soon as I saw her, I gasped and reached out, wanting her to hold me. “Aunt Patricia. Aunt Patricia…is it really you? How did you find me? Where’s Jonah? Is he here, too? Oh, I’m so glad to see you. You can’t imagine what it’s been like. I’ve eaten fish heads, and…”

  Aunt Patricia wavered before my eyes—kind of like they do on Star Trek when they’re beaming somewhere. In her place, a different face took form. The old man—the shaman. I screamed and pushed him back with flailing arms. “No. Go away. Where’s Aunt Patricia? Bring her back. And Uncle David. Bring them back. Bring them back. I want Jonah. Where’s Jonah?”

  Even in my delirium, I knew I was acting hysterical. I could hear myself screaming and could see myself waving my arms and struggling. Like one those out-of-body experiences, I knew everything, but, at the same time, couldn’t do a thing to stop it. What’s more, my head hurt.

  The shaman lifted a wooden rattle shaped like a bird—similar to the one Jonah had found—and shook it over my head. He chanted for several minutes—words I couldn’t understand—but my delirium only worsened. Then, a younger, more handsome face replaced the old wrinkled one. Gray Otter. Gray Otter, rattle in hand, leaned over me, looking as serious as I’d ever seen him. His eyes were not dancing but looked cold and focused and intense. He lifted his arm and shook the rattle gently, rhythmically, and, to my surprise, I calmed down. Might’ve been the hypnotizing rhythm which eased my feverish mind and body—I didn’t really know. After about ten minutes of his chanting-praying, his kind face inches from my own, I did feel better.

  A gentle hand brought a cup to my lips and gave me something horribly nasty to drink. Euphoria settled on me like a warm, flannel blanket and everything around me turned hazy—blurring into a comforting nothingness.

  When I opened my eyes again, there was no one in the room. I didn’t recognize anything and attempted to sit up. My body protested and my head spun crazily, so I eased myself back against the soft cushion made from moss, cattails, and cedar bark. I gazed at the walls around me, surprised to see many decorative and intricately carved masks, rattles of all shapes and sizes, and pouches. Over a dozen pouches hung suspended from wooden pegs in the walls and I wondered what each contained.

  Not the Chief’s long house, and not Joy’s new house, and there wasn’t anyone else that I could think of whose house I’d be taken to for care. Then, comprehension dawned like a sunrise off the coast of South Carolina. I lay in the shaman’s house, his smaller version of the big houses, nestled among tall firs at the far end of the village. The realization sent a current of apprehension through me.

  Ever since that day when the old man had looked me over, proclaiming me worthy of being kept, I’d been a little afraid of him. He seemed to have more influence than even Chief. I knew if I messed up, or if the shaman had a dream one night, I’d be history. He just plain scared me. And here I lay, sick, flat on my back, and in his private quarters.

  I was working myself up into another raging headache when someone entered the room quietly. My eyes as big as Frisbees, I looked up to see Gray Otter. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I gazed at him imploringly. “Oh, Gray…what’s going to happen to me?”

  He sat down cross-legged beside my pallet and smiled. “Nothing. You were ill, but I have made you well.”

  “Y-you have? Oh…I-I didn’t know… Thank you. My mind’s-my mind’s all fuzzy.” I smiled and dropped my gaze to the fringe on one of the blankets covering me. “I-I’m glad to see you.”

  “No, it is I who am glad to see you. You had us very concerned, Han-nah. You have been quite ill; speaking words that had no meaning.”

  I looked up again and noticed that his eyes bored through me like laser beams. It was disconcerting. “Wh-what happened? I mean…the last thing I remember was lying on the beach in a heavy mist and…” My voice trailed off as I also remembered the whisperer…and Sand Eater.

  Gray Otter studied me for an eternity then cleared his throat. “Yes. He-Sees-Far and She-Who-Sings-to-Whales found you lying on the sand. The waters had almost reached you, and if they had come only a little later, you would have been swallowed by the sea. You were burning with fever and saying words no one—not even my grandfather nor I—could understand.”

  “Yeah…I guess I caught cold or-or something…I remember being chilled…maybe the flu…”

  “Hmm.” He stared at me for a moment without speaking, his forehead creasing with confusion and something else—annoyance, maybe. Then he said in a low voice, “Han-nah…you must tell me…”

  A subdued rustling at the entrance to the small building interrupted him. Joy entered. She looked worried but broke into a smiled when she me awake. “Oh, Han-nah… I was so afraid… How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. Gray Otter is a very good medicine man.”

  The young man smiled as Joy nodded her agreement. I lay back and sighed as my friend sat down beside Gray Otter and put a cool hand on my face, smoothing back the moist tendrils of hair plastered to my skin. I was so grateful for her kindness and friendship. It occurred to me that if it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have lasted this long. She’d supported me from the very beginning. Even back home, I’d never had a friend like her. And Gray Otter… I thought of him as a very dear friend, too.

  I looked up at Joy’s tranquil face then reached out to take her hand. “Joy… you’re so sweet…. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome,” she said, eyes cast down.

  I then turned to look up at Gray Otter and heat flooded my cheeks. His dark eyes fixed on my face, never wavering. I reached out to touch his arm. “And thank you, Gray Otter, for taking such good care of me.”

  “Yes. You are welcome. But you are strong. You fought the fever like a warrior. I am proud of you, She-Who-Speaks-Many-Tongues.” He grinned crookedly.

  My heart did a curious little flip, and I had to swallow several times before getting any words out. “Gray…where’s Jonah? Is he…is he all right? Why hasn’t he come to see me? Won’t they let him?”

  Gray Otter frowned. “Jo-nah is well. He lacks stamina and needed to rest on his pallet. He will co
me to see you when the sun sets.”

  “Oh…okay,” I faltered, unsure whether he told me the whole story. For some reason, I’d the awful feeling that something had happened to Jonah—that he wasn’t well at all—but I didn’t press the issue. I wanted Gray Otter to think I trusted him. I wanted to trust him. It was of paramount importance that I trust him. I didn’t know why.

  * * * *

  The second day of my recuperation dawned. Jonah had visited me only once the day before, but at least I’d seen with my own eyes that he appeared all right. By all right, I meant alive. My cousin had lost considerable weight, but had built up muscles he’d never had before. I almost didn’t recognize him because he’d changed so much. He looked tired and older and a lot wiser but he was still my cousin.

  Jonah walked into the hut, and though overjoyed to see him, I hesitated to speak while the old shaman hovered in the room. I clamped my mouth shut and waited for him to take the lead. He spoke to Gray’s grandfather and the old medicine man listened without saying a word. Then, with an enigmatic glance in my direction, the elderly man gathered up a few things and left. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jonah sat down beside me and leaned closer. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Better. I’m glad you could come today, Jonah. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Yeah, like I’m the one who nearly died. Don’t worry about me, Hannah. Worry about yourself. I’m doing okay.”

  “You look good. A little thinner, maybe, but would you get a load of those biceps?” I giggled but my cousin didn’t share my amusement.

  Instead, he pursed his lips and frowned. “We have to think about leaving, Hannah. We have to start making plans. I’m okay but I’m sick and tired of killing myself just to prove I’m worthy of keeping that stupid bird rattle. Now I wish I’d never found it. It’s been a heck of a lot of trouble.”

  I nodded and he continued. “We can do it, Hannah. We can make our escape after everyone’s gone to sleep…”