Wind Whisperer Read online

  All these memories and more flooded over me—making me ache with sadness.

  Then I heard it.

  TEN – DRUMS AND DANCERS

  The teasing, tantalizing whisper that had frightened Joy and me so badly yesterday. It was noiseless, soundless, aphonic. Low, husky—hardly more than a sigh. It was like nothing I’d ever heard or experienced before. And yet, it was definitely mobile, real…alive. And close by.

  I stood up and peered into the dark, mystery-enshrouded forest, straining to find the source of that hauntingly irresistible murmuring. I couldn’t explain it, but it no longer seemed evil or sinister. It unnerved me, yeah. But now it didn’t frighten me as much as it had the day before. I wanted very much to see who…or what…made those sibilant sounds. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped into the shadows of the ageless forest.

  Hannah…Hannah…I heard my name as distinctly as if someone had spoken it. I paused—a tickle of anticipation running up both arms. Had it been a human voice? Was it possible that someone from the Lake Crescent Lodge or the authorities searched for me? Was it Jonah? Was I about to be found—rescued from this living fantasy? Was my cousin trying to get my attention? I held my breath and listened.

  Haaannaaah, it breathed. Haaaa…nnnaaahhh…The voice seemed to be coming somewhere to my right, but deeper in the evergreen murkiness—the forever-darkness, shadow, and impermeability of the rain forest. Deeper than I wanted to go. Jeez. Stop being so melodramatic. Throwing all caution—all anxiety—to the winds, I called for the “voice” to show itself.

  “Hello. Who is it? Who’s out there? What do you want?”

  There was no answer…but I hadn’t really expected one.

  I called again. “Hello. Please. If anybody’s out there, answer me. Please. I’m lost. I need to get back to Lake Crescent. Hello?”

  “Be quiet.”

  The two hissed words sent an electric shock right through me, and I whirled around to find Chief standing, legs apart and arms crossed, devouring me with his fathom-less eyes. He was angry. Very angry, and I swallowed, noting that if I continued to have such startling encounters, I’d die of heart failure before the week was up.

  I found my voice, weak as it was, and tried to explain. “I-I…sir, I…I heard something in the woods…and…and came to investigate…and…”

  He brought an abrupt halt to my stammering with one raised hand. Its meaning was crystal clear. Don’t say another word. I was a slave, after all, and not in a position to speak my mind. My mouth too dry to talk anyway, I nodded, and followed him out of the forest. I had a feeling I’d gotten myself in big trouble.

  We made our way back to the village in total silence.

  As soon as Joy saw me, she came running over. After one look at her father, she smiled at me and took my hand. “Come, Han-nah…we will prepare for the party.”

  I looked at her doubtfully. “I think your father is mad at me. Will I be allowed to go to a party?”

  She laughed. “Of course. Father wishes only for your well being and safety. I have told you that you should not go off by yourself. It is not safe. You know this.”

  Feeling like a naughty pre-schooler, I nodded. No way she understood my predicament—she couldn’t. So I forced my lips to curve upward. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to follow your rules better. But, Joy…I heard it again. The whispering. And-and it was calling my name. Honest. I could hear it whispering my name, like it wanted me to come closer.”

  A look of pure horror filled her face. “Oh…Han-nah…that is…that is very bad. Evil spirits prowl about looking for prey. You are so fortunate that father went after you when he did. Otherwise, you would have been taken.” She threw her arms around me and hugged as though I’d narrowly escaped a tragic death. Half of me believed her, while the other half knew she was just an uneducated girl filled with the superstitions of her people. However, the former half was the stronger of the two and my knees turned rubbery.

  Again, I smiled weakly. “Thank you…I-I guess I learned a valuable lesson.” I quickly changed the subject. “So. What’s this party we’re having tonight? Will it be a potlatch?”

  Joy clapped her hands and laughed. “No, no, it will not be a potlatch, but it will have dancing and songs and wonderful food. You will enjoy it, Han-nah. Just wait and see.”

  “When do I get to see a potlatch? You’ve made me so curious. I’ve never seen one before.”

  She smiled, looking down at her bare feet. “We will have a potlatch at my wedding. It will be one of the best ever given. Father will give away many gifts.”

  “Well, what, exactly is a potlatch? I mean, you seem to have them for a lot of different reasons…and, well, I was just wondering.”

  Joy stared off in the distance, lost in her daydream, thinking about what she was going to say. Finally, she motioned for me to follow her into the long house. Once inside, she entered their cubicle and opened a large wooden chest. “Here are our fine clothes. We will put on our best dresses and oil our hair. Father will invite everybody and there will be dances and food and gifts. The more gifts the host distributes, the more honor and prestige he is given in return. Some men have been known to give away everything they own—even burning down their houses and killing their slaves. This brings him unending praise and high esteem. Of course, he usually gets most of it back or, at least, replaced, because others must, in turn, host potlatches and give gifts. Sometimes a potlatch can last many days. Father and other elders will give speeches; tell about important deeds done.”

  “Wow. Sounds like a really neat party,” I said and tried to mean it, although I was shocked to my marrow about the killing of any and all slaves.

  “Yes, it will be very nice. Here, I want you to see my wedding dress.” She reached into the box and pulled out the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Made from pounded cedar bark, it had feathers and fur taken from specially raised dogs woven right into the soft wood fabric. There was even a pair of earrings made from woven spruce roots and cattail cotton, which, although quite large and ponderous, were very pretty. Joy handled her trousseau reverently. Anyone could tell she was happy and excited about the coming event.

  “Wow,” I said again, not really knowing what to say. Inwardly, I wondered what she’d think if she ever had a chance to see what one of our wedding dresses looked like. She’d be flabbergasted. I smiled. “Very nice, Joy. When is the wedding supposed to be? Will I be invited?”

  “Oh, yes. I will ask for you especially.”

  I sat back on my heels and sighed. “That’ll be great. Thanks. So, tell me about tonight. Do we dress up?”

  “No, we will wear what we have on, but we will oil our hair, put on decorative capes or hats. Mother will need us to help her prepare the food. Everyone brings food to share. And, of course, there will be dancing and singing and story-telling.”

  We helped Lead Woman prepare sweet cakes made from hemlock bark. When she was satisfied with what we’d prepared, we were allowed to fix our hair for the party. I watched in fascination as Joy combed out her long, black hair, oiled it liberally, and then divided it into two thick sections. She wound a long braid of cedar bark through each, securing it at both ends. I admired her handiwork and she beamed.

  My hair was combed and also given a generous application of the oil, leaving it feeling greasy to me. But I didn’t complain, realizing I needed to get used to the custom. She braided my hair into its accustomed single, fat braid and let it hang halfway down my back. After twenty minutes of doing hair and general cleaning up, we were ready to take on the entire town. Joy’s excitement was contagious and when the time came to meet the others, my cheeks flushed and my heart did double-time.

  Every member of the tribe attended. I couldn’t believe it. Old people mingled with babies and small children. Middle-aged adults talked with teenagers. But when the dancing began, people separated into pre-arranged groups. It seemed ingrained; no one argued or even gave it a second thought. Each knew his or her place in the scheme of things. Birth d
ictated rank.

  The tribe had gathered outdoors in a central area in front of the big houses. The only light came from a single fire set in the heart of the “stage” where the dancers would tell their stories. A small silent group materialized out of the darkness. They wore wonderful masks depicting Raven and other creatures I couldn’t name, and were draped in voluminous capes. Rhythmic drumming from village musicians filled the clearing with a throbbing beat that reached deep inside my chest. The dancers moved to this pulsating music, keeping time, measuring beat for beat. The party had begun.

  I watched, enthralled. I’d no idea what the dance symbolized, but didn’t care. It was captivating, regardless of what it portrayed. After several minutes and the intricate dance continued without stopping, I leaned over to Joy and asked, “What’s happening?”

  “They are telling the story of how Raven stole the sun and gave it to my people,” she whispered. “The world was dark because someone had taken the sun and hidden it in their lodge. It was kept out of sight in a bentwood box. Raven turned himself into a baby so that the thieves would take him in. He managed to get the box by tricking the people. Then he turned himself back into a bird, escaped through the smoke-hole, and released the sun from its prison. The darkened world was again flooded with sunlight.”

  “Oh,” I breathed as comprehension gave me a new appreciation for the intricate steps executed in front of me. When that dance finally ended, more masked figures flowed onto the “stage.” This time, one man wore an elaborate mask depicting Thunderbird, and another dance evolved—blossoming, like a seed growing into a beautiful flower. I leaned over again for another clarification of its characters. “I recognize Thunderbird,” I whispered. “What’s this one about?”

  “This tells the story of when my people were starving. Too much wind and rain and hail had devastated whole villages. The people were forced to move inland—something that is very bad, for we are the people who live by the rocks and seabirds. They were dying and the chief called upon the Great Spirit for assistance. He answered. Soon, the people saw a giant bird—an eagle, but like no eagle they had ever seen—come flying toward them. It carried a whale in its great and powerful claws. It dropped the whale before the people and they had food. The Great Spirit had answered their prayer. They called this wonderfully magnificent bird the Thunderbird because it had come out of the thunder and lightning.”

  I was amazed at how reverently she spoke of such things and secretly wondered what she would have thought of a worship service at my church back in Atlanta. There was so much in this world I didn’t know. I suddenly had a new appreciation for social studies and history. I wished I could discuss my developing awareness with my teachers…or parents…or Jonah…

  Lost in my reverie, I was surprised when Joy suddenly tapped my arm. “What?” I whispered, glancing around nervously. I was afraid I’d missed a direction or something.

  “See that dancer? The one portraying Bear?” She pointed.

  “Yeah…who is he?”

  “Gray Otter. He is very good, is he not?”

  I nodded, my eyes glued on the lithe form leaping and shuddering to the drumbeats. Supposedly fishing for salmon to feed his wife and children, “Bear” was telling the story of his great encounter with a wild cat—also in need of sustenance. The dance was intricate and well done. Now that I knew the dancer, I felt compelled to watch.

  The party lasted until very late. This made me wonder how long her wedding potlatch would last. She’d said that sometimes they lasted for days or even weeks. I doubted very much that I’d be able to hold up that long. I was exhausted.

  Joy and I took our time walking back to the long house, reluctant to call it a day even though we were both very tired. Exhausted as I was, I really wanted to talk about the party—but from bed. However, this would never be a possibility for us. Not like a sleepover back home, where girlfriends could lie in sleeping bags and talk and giggle all night if they wanted to. Sharing a communal bedroom saw to that. If we wanted to talk then we had to find a place away from everybody else. There would be no idle gossiping tonight.

  We headed for the edge of the woods to take care of our needs when a voice stopped us. Gray Otter. He wore a smug expression and seemed in high spirits about his part in the performance. He stared at me as though waiting for my assessment.

  “Your dance was great, Gray Otter,” I offered, glancing at Joy to make sure it was okay to speak to him. She just stood there quietly, revealing no emotion whatsoever, so I decided to say a little more. “I thought…I thought you were one of the best dancers. You are very talented…and…” For some reason, my mind went blank. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of another thing to say that wouldn’t sound totally inane.

  Gray Otter nodded as though my compliment was his due and he’d expected it. Then, he grinned, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the darkness. I looked at Joy and shrugged. “Well. That was weird. I can’t figure that guy out.”

  Joy pursed her lips and gave me a strange look. “Oh, Han-nah…Gray Otter likes you. I think…I think he will ask father for permission.”

  “Permission? Permission to do what, exactly?”

  “He will ask permission to either buy you outright or court you with the intention of securing your freedom.”

  “Huh? B-buy me? Court me? As in marriage? Gray Otter? A-and me?”

  “Yes, of course. You are very attractive, Han-nah. You know this. You will need to think about marriage very soon. It is our way.”

  ELEVEN – CANNIBAL WOMAN

  I don’t think I slept more than a few hours that night. I kept dreaming about deranged thunderbirds and ravens and Gray Otter wearing a tux and feeding me wedding cake in our church back home. My dreams made no sense and kept me tossing and turning all night. And all the small and inconsequential noises got on my nerves, too—like the endless dripping of a leaky faucet. But in this case, it was the murmuring of fretful children, the crackling of dying embers in the fire, and the eerie sighing of an invisible breeze through the trees. The following morning, I felt irritable and peevish.

  If the others noticed, they were kind enough to ignore it. I went about my chores as though I hadn’t a care in the world, but I knew from the way she glanced at me from time to time, that Joy worried. Early afternoon she voiced her concern.

  “Han-nah…are you ill?” she asked as we put the finishing touches to baskets we were making for her potlatch.

  Averting my eyes, I prevaricated. “Of course not. I feel fine. I’m tired from last night. That’s all. I’m not used to staying up so late. I’ve always liked going to bed earlier than my friends.”

  “I am glad. We have so much to do before my wedding. Our fingers must fly like the wind.”

  That put an idea into my head. “Joy…since I’m not so good with this weaving stuff, why don’t I go dig some clams, or something. I’m only making a mess here.”

  “Mother did say she wanted more berries. Perhaps you could take Little Feather with you and fill two baskets. I will ask Mother.”

  Apparently Lead Woman gave her blessing because before I had a chance to blink, Joy’s little sister approached me. Never quite meeting me eye to eye, the little girl appeared timid and star-struck in my presence. Since that first day on the beach, she’d acted a tiny bit afraid of me, but no one criticized her for her weakness. With the same chubby cheeks as her little brother, the small girl was very appealing.

  I made a point of smiling at her and speaking gently. “Well, how nice. I’m glad you’re coming with me, Little Feather.”

  The young girl smiled but looked down at her bare feet. Joy laughed and handed her a large basket. “Pick lots of berries. Mother has many delicious things to make.”

  We were about to leave when a small voice made a request. “May I also go with you to pick berries?”

  I turned around to see one of the other little girls from the beach encounter. After receiving my nod, Joy handed her a basket as well. “Yes, of cour
se. Han-nah will be happy for another pair of hands. But you girls must listen to Han-nah and do just as she tells you. Yes?”

  The two little girls agreed and together, we trouped into the forest, intent on making it to the meadow before the shadows gave us unwanted prickles of fear. Knowing how easy your imagination could run away with you among these ancient sentinels, I hurried the very obliging children along.

  Plump, ripe berries grew everywhere. Because the clearing received so much direct sunlight, we were lucky to find wild blackberries even this late in the season. Also, there were plenty of huckleberries, salmonberries, salal berries, and others that I had been told were edible but whose names I hadn’t a clue. In no time, our baskets grew heavy.

  “I’m going to rest for a bit over there by that fallen hemlock,” I told the girls as I set my basket on the ground and lowered my tired body to the sun-warmed log. They smiled, waved, and continued to chatter about anything and everything. Like little girls everywhere, they could talk non-stop, punctuating this with spurts of shrill laughter. Watching them was entertaining, and I’d been exactly the same at their age—regardless of culture and customs.

  Another glorious day filled with sunshine, caressing breezes, and the hypnotic droning of insects. The sky a bright, robin’s egg-blue, the sun’s rays were a perfect panacea for achy muscles and tired body. I stretched out on the dry ground, leaning my head against the log. The spicy, woodsy scents of cedar, ripe berries, and warm earth were therapeutic. A lone insect droned above my head, but I was too lazy to swat it away. My eyelids drooped and before I knew it, I fell asleep.