Wind Whisperer Read online

  Of course Joy knew something was wrong. The poor girl dropped her basket—spilling plump berries everywhere—and ran over to me. Her footsteps over the soft ground sounded like a man running in heavy boots. She said something over and over, and I saw my fear mirrored in her own dark eyes.

  For several seconds she hugged me and patted my back while I vomited laughter from deep inside my body. When it was over, I felt like I’d been beaten with a dozen clubs. Exhausted and shaky, I had to sit down. Joy sat down beside me, still clutching my hand; still murmuring soothing, meaningless words. A deep crease separated her beautiful brown eyes.

  I’ve no explanation for what happened next. It’s just another in an ever-growing list of impossible occurrences. Running my hands down my face, I groaned then sucked in my cheeks. I was really embarrassed by my loss of self-control and wanted to reassure my friend that I hadn’t suddenly gone whacko on her. “I am so sorry, Joy…jeez…I’m so sorry….” My hands made the sign for apology.

  She watched my hands and nodded. “You are weary, perhaps…” she said.

  That was like a slap across the face—big time. “Wh-what did you say?”

  Joy’s eyebrows shot up. “Ohhh.” her hands came up to her mouth. “Ohhh, how…how can this be?”

  “Oh, my…oh, my gosh…jeez, this is crazy. Crazy.”

  Joy’s mouth quivered and her eyebrows did another somersault. “Yes…oh, yes…but it is true. We understand one another now. Han-nah, how is this possible? Only a heartbeat ago you could not speak my tongue nor I, yours.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say—how to explain it.

  We didn’t speak for the longest time; only stared at one another in awe mixed with trepidation. Finally, I cleared my throat. “Oh, Joy…this is the weirdest thing yet…. I can’t explain this…not in a million years. All I know is…ever since yesterday when the boys tied me up and blindfolded me…I’ve-I’ve been able to hear things I’ve never heard before.”

  Joy nodded, her eyes still wide with disbelief and awe. “Yes…yes…your guardian spirit has opened your ears…you hear now with your heart and mind as well as with your ears. It is a rare gift…oh, Han-nah.”

  “Yeah, oh, Hannah…Well, maybe you’re right. I sure as heck haven’t a better explanation—probably never will—but here we are. I guess God, or-or your guardian spirits, or whatever, has given me—us—this-this gift so we can…understand each other…I guess…I don’t know… Jeez, that sounds so lame…it’s all so weird…so weird…” I plucked a blade of grass and tore it into tiny bits.

  “It is a gift…a rare gift…you are special, Han-nah…”

  “But, Joy, you have it, too. You understand me just as well as I understand you.”

  She nodded again. The crease in her forehead even more pronounced.

  “Oh, Joy…I have so many questions. I-I don’t know where to start…” I sighed, picked up a fir cone and tossed it. “Gosh, I guess first off I need to know your name. I mean…I’ve been calling you Joy, but I know that’s not your real name.” I hunched my shoulders and lifted my hands. “What is it?”

  She laughed. “My name is She-Who-Sings-to-Whales.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise and she giggled.

  “Do you mind terribly if I continue calling you Joy? It’s a bit easier,” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being offensive.

  “Yes…I like this name—Joy. It means happy, does it not?”

  “Yeah, really happy—like at Christmas.”

  “Christmas?”

  “I’ll explain it to you some time. It’ll take a while. It’s part of my faith—my religion—and a holiday my people celebrate in December.”

  “I see and at the same time do not see. But I will look forward to the telling. You must tell me how you came to us. I have never seen anyone like you before. Where is your home?”

  For a minute, I couldn’t say anything but just sit there and shake my head. “I… don’t…know…I-I should be able to tell you, but…” I waved my hand. “My home…my home is…here…or, at least, my relatives’ home is.” At the look of utter bewilderment clouding her face, I knew I’d have a hard time explaining anything. How could I? I didn’t even understand it.

  “Oh, Joy…I can’t explain it. And I don’t mean here here, just, well, in this state. I live in a state pretty far from here, but—ohh. It’s impossible to explain. I was walking in the woods with my cousin when he up and disappeared on me. I looked everywhere for him, but he just plain vanished. Like he’d walked into another dimension or something.” She frowned at the unfamiliar words, and I grimaced and spread my hands in resignation. “Okay. So, anyway, I walked…I was trying to make it back to Lake Crescent, but…I got-I got lost.”

  “Lake Cres-cent?”

  “Yeah, it’s this really cool, crescent-shaped lake off highway 101, close to Mount Storm King. There’re scads of Indian legends about the lake taking people and pulling them under and—”

  “I do not know your words, ‘highway 101’, but I know this lake. My father and his brother have seen this lake. And, yes, it is believed to be guarded by spirits. Not one of my people would dare take a canoe out on that lake. You see, many, many years ago, before there ever was a lake, two warring tribes fought a terrible battle there. The mountain who guarded the place became angry and broke off a huge piece of rock from his head and threw it down upon the fighting men. The boulder was so gigantic that it buried the men. A stream that flowed through the area was blocked and soon, at the foot of the angry mountain, a lake formed. It is said to be one of the most beautiful lakes of all, with the Storm King’s face reflected in its clear waters. The lake appears tranquil, but no human would dare venture out upon it.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “I can believe it…I can…but...oh, that’s the trouble.” I covered my face with both hands. “Oh, Joy. This whole thing is like a nightmare. I miss my parents and my brother. I miss my aunt and uncle and my cousin. I miss, oh, everything.” I looked up and saw the sympathy in her eyes. “Oh, Joy…Jonah…my cousin…he’s somewhere around here. I know he is. That Walkman—the box-like-thing that boy found yesterday belongs to him—Jonah, I mean. He’s here. He may be hurt or something. I-I’ve got to find him.”

  “Oh, Han-nah…I am so sorry. I will try to help you find this-this cou-sin named Jo-nah.”

  I looked up and saw deep sympathy in her dark eyes. “Th-thanks,” I stammered, “I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t-I don’t know where to begin…. I feel so alone…so freaky.” I dropped my face into my hands again and moaned.

  Joy touched me lightly on the shoulder. “Well…at least you and I can talk now. Perhaps you will not feel so lonesome now that you can understand us.”

  I peered at her through splayed fingers. “Yeah…it helps…being able to understand when you talk…but…”

  “I do not know what my father will say. He is already convinced that possessing a slave like you is an accomplishment worthy of much adulation. He will be ecstatic when he learns of this miracle.”

  “Slave? I’m a slave?” I took my hands down and stared at her in horror. “But…I slept with all of you in your-in your quarters. And-and you treat me so well. I’m-I’m treated like one of the villagers.”

  “Yes, of course. My people always treat their slaves well, although some have been sacrificed when the need arose...”

  “Sacrificed.”

  “Do not worry, Han-nah. You are far too precious. Father will never sell or sacrifice you.”

  I closed my eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Tears were gathering and threatening to overflow. I didn’t want to cry in front of Joy—I don’t know why, I just didn’t. But my emotions had been through so much already that this was the last straw. Tears poured out and streaked down my cheeks. I tried to brush them away, but it was too late. Joy put an arm around my shoulders.

  “Han-nah…do not cry. I think of you like a sister. You are safe.”

  “It’s not that,” I blubbered. “It’s just…it�
��s just that I don’t know how I got here. I’m so confused. Things are terribly wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it. I know you don’t understand, but where I come from it’s-it’s…well, it’s a lot different. I feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone.”

  “The what? I do not understand, Han-nah.”

  “Ohh. I can’t explain it—at least, I don’t think you’d believe me if I did.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Do you know where Seattle is? Have you seen the Space Needle? Have you seen the Ballard Locks? Have you ever tasted an ice cream cone?” At her blank look, I knew she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I shivered and closed my eyes.

  EIGHT – THE WHISPERER RETURNS

  Joy patted my hand. “Han-nah…please…do not fret so…it is getting late. We must finish our berry picking.” She was fidgeting. “We must finish our work and talk of this when we return to the village. We do not want to stay so close to the forest for too long a time. When darkness comes, so, too, comes the Wild Man of the Woods. Maybe, too, comes Cannibal Woman—she who seeks out children for her sustenance.”

  I opened my eyes then and stared at her. “C-Cannibal Woman,” I repeated dully. “W-Who in the world’s Cannibal Woman?”

  Joy looked over her shoulder as though she expected to see this monster sneaking up on us at any moment. I could tell she was serious and a little frightened even in speaking about her…or it.

  “Cannibal Woman, sometimes called Basket Woman, is very tall and very bad. Her hair is matted and greasy and smells horrible. Her eyes are old and sink into her awful, yellow-brown face. She is filthy and unkempt. She preys on children—snatches them and carries them in her basket back to her home. My little brothers and sister are terribly frightened of her. So are the adults. Nobody knows where she lives, exactly—perhaps deep in the forest. Sh-She roasts the children over her fire and-and eats them.”

  I was aghast. I’d never heard anything so outrageous in my life, but I’d also never experienced anything so outrageous before, either, so I wasn’t about to disagree or laugh at her. For all I knew, in this world Cannibal Woman did exist. The whole idea was chilling, to say the least.

  I hopped to my feet. “Well, then let’s hurry. I’ve no desire to meet this Cannibal-Basket Woman in the flesh. Here, let me help you pick up those berries you spilled. Let’s move it.”

  Together, we gathered up most of the fallen berries—some unfortunately getting squished in the process—and then attacked the bushes with new zeal. When my basket was two-thirds full, I voiced my concerns about staying another minute. “Shouldn’t we go, Joy? It’s getting darker. If what you say is true, maybe we should high-tail it out of here.”

  She nodded and adjusted the tumpline—a woven strap attached to her basket that fit across her forehead so carrying the basket on her back would be easier. I didn’t bother with a tumpline, but chose to carry my basket like a heavy sack of groceries. We padded across the meadow in our bare feet, careful to watch out for nettles, stickers, and sharp sticks or rocks. I was surprised at how used to going without shoes I’d gotten in such a short time. The soles of my feet were hardening to the point that I could cover as much ground as Joy did—with only an occasional yelp of discomfort.

  We had to walk through part of the forest to get back to the path that led to the village. I knew young people were warned over and over not to wander too far off as war parties from unfriendly tribes delighted in taking children captive. I’d learned this through an elaborate display of signing only the day before.

  After looking around for signs of Jonah, I’d wanted to explore the beach in the opposite direction—retrace my journey from that first day—but Joy would have no part of it. She’d very carefully and most emphatically signed the dangers of going out alone, and my idea was thoroughly squelched. Now, as we made our way toward the thick woods, I asked her about the danger.

  “Oh, yes,” she exhaled. “There are tribes who do not get along with us and they are forever coming down in their canoes to steal children. Slaves are a sign of wealth so the more you have the better your standing in the tribe. You understand this?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. We don’t like slavery where I come from. We abolished the practice over a hundred years ago. It’s a blot on our consciences, and we try to forget it ever happened. Slavery is immoral.”

  “Yes,” she mused. “I can see that one would not like it if he were the one taken. But it is a way of life among my people. It is a difficult subject to discuss, is it not?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  We both entered the dark forest a little apprehensively. My mind was on overdrive with visions of Cannibal Woman, Wild Man, and warring tribes all tumbling over one another, intent on making me a ball of nerves. Ever since my night alone in the forest, when I’d imagined the gigantic trees breathing and communicating and walking, and then thought I’d seen a face, the woods made me jittery.

  Joy circled a huge decaying cedar tree that blocked the path, with me right on her heels. We kept quiet, making only an occasional comment, then we heard a twig snap. Pausing for a moment, we both looked at one another, each with an unvoiced question in her eyes. We heard no further sounds, so we continued pushing our way through the dense thicket.

  Light filtered through the trees ahead and we relaxed. A nervous giggle escaped before I could squelch it. That’s when we heard the whispering, a dulcet sound—liquid and soft. We both tensed. It was no purling of forest stream or rustling of leaves moving in a breeze. Somebody was out there. Watching?

  I clutched Joy’s arm and we stood still for several minutes…waiting, listening. Finally, summoning the last bit of my courage, I mouthed, “Joy…do you know what made that whispering sound?”

  “No,” she breathed, “I-I have never heard it before. Perhaps it is Cannibal Woman…or Wild Man…or some other spirit I do not know the name of.”

  “Well, it’s creepy,” I hissed. “I want to go, but I’m afraid to move. I don’t want to attract its attention by making any noise. How are we going to get back to the village? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s getting pretty dark.”

  “We must hurry, Han-nah. Never mind the noise. We cannot be in the forest after dark. Follow me.”

  Before we’d walked two feet, the almost inaudible murmuring resumed, wafting through the languid evergreen branches and gathering shadows. We hesitated for a second.

  The haunting whispers taunted us. Like long, curling fingers, they beckoned us to venture deeper into the forest. We both knew that if we hesitated a moment longer, it would be too late. We had to leave and we had to leave now.

  Without wasting another second, we grabbed hands and ran. Joy, being the faster runner, pulled me along after her like a kite. In fact, she pulled so hard that I had the sensation of practically leaving the ground. Knowing the way like the back of her hand, Joy led us right to the village. We reached the outskirts winded and perspiring.

  “Oh, gosh. Oh, my gosh.” I panted. “That was freaky. What was it?”

  “I do not know. I have never heard anything like it before,” she gasped. “Come, let us put these berries away and have a drink. I am thirsty after my run.”

  We disposed of the berries, making Lead Woman very happy, and then headed to the communal water basket. I used a large, wide spoon that had been carved from a mountain goat horn while Joy used her hands to cup the water. Lead Woman watched with amusement but didn’t comment.

  “Mother,” Joy said, drying her hands on her skirt. “We heard a most unusual sound as we crossed the edge of the forest. I have never heard such a sound before. The forest was whispering, Mother. We were both very frightened.”

  Lead Woman straightened from her bent position over the large basket in which she’d been placing hot stones to make the water boil. She frowned. “This is not something I want to hear,” she said in a low voice. “Today we discovered some of the salmon from the drying rack was missing. The thief could be your whisperer. We must tell the others.�
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  “Could it be Cannibal woman?” I asked.

  Lead Woman let out a shriek and stepped back—her eyes wide with disbelief. Joy and I understood and sprinted to her side.

  “Mother, we are sorry. Please forgive our oversight. A most wonderful thing happened while we were picking berries. Han-nah can understand—can speak our language and we can...”

  “No, it’s the other way around.” I interrupted. “It’s you who are suddenly speaking my language. You guys are speaking English.”

  The three of us froze as the realization dawned in each one’s mind. It was impossible; absolutely, definitely, impossible, but here we were. Each heard the other speaking in her native language. To my ears, both were speaking American English. To their ears, however, I was speaking their dialect—their tongue. I couldn’t blame Lead Woman for looking at me like I was possessed. The whole thing scared me, too.

  Joy’s mother collected her wits faster than I would have expected. She straightened her shoulders and smiled. “This will delight your father. He will want a potlatch to celebrate his good fortune. To think, we are the possessors of such a rare gift. You are a treasure, Han-nah.”

  I didn’t know how to react to that so just smiled. Knowing I was a possession—however valued—gave me the funniest feeling. Even though I felt pretty safe with these people, I knew that could change at any time. What had Joy said about sacrificing a slave if the need arose? A shiver slid down my spine.

  Joy always seemed to know what I was thinking. She grabbed my hand with a laugh. “A potlatch. That will be exciting. There will be dancing and wonderful things to eat and gifts for everybody. Come on, Han-nah. We will go to our spot and finish the baskets. Mother will be so surprised at what you have accomplished.”