Wind Whisperer Read online

  I don’t know how long I dozed. I thought I’d just closed my eyes for a minute—only resting them from the bright sunlight—and, yet, when I opened them, the sun no longer glared overhead, but had dropped behind the tall trees, leaving behind lengthening shadows. I scrambled to my feet and called to the girls.

  They were nowhere in sight.

  Filled with a numbing dread, I called louder. “Girls. Girls, it’s time to go back now. Where are you? Little Feather? Blanket Girl? Answer me.”

  The meadow, slowly filling with tree-shadows, was eerily silent. Not a blade of grass waved or bowed its head to a passing breeze. No more buzzing of languid insects. The only sound to break the awful stillness, a mournful caw from a single crow. When I looked up into what had once been an azure dome above us, it shocked me to see gathering clouds now swallowing what was left of the benign sun.

  I scanned the surrounding area. The baskets the girls had been using were visible, and as I got closer, I could see that each remained full. Clinging to a fragile courage, I told myself over and over, that they couldn’t—wouldn’t—have wandered off. Little Feather was far too timid, Blanket Girl no braver. They knew the dangers—had been weaned on the stories of Cannibal Woman and Wild Man. There was no way they would’ve gone for a walk alone in the ever-dark forest.

  I called again, my voice cracking on every other syllable. I was thoroughly frightened now and had no idea what to do. If I ran back to the village and the little girls returned to the clearing to find me gone, they’d get hysterical. On the other hand, if I just sat here, doing nothing but waiting for them to come back, and night fell…well, then I’d get hysterical.

  Pacing back and forth with growing agitation, I happened to glance at the ground, at an area free from grass and decaying fir needles that would show footprints quite clearly. What I saw—or thought I saw—caused me to jerk to a stop. A footprint, leading away from the meadow and into the forest, but a footprint no human could possibly have made. Even without a ruler, I knew that it measured over a foot long. Way over. I guessed it to be at least eighteen inches, if not more.

  Panic welled up in me like foam on a root beer float. Crazy as it seems, the only answer I could come up with was Cannibal Woman. The half of me that knew she was only a myth shriveled into nothingness, while the other half exploded into sharp reality. Cannibal Woman. Cannibal Woman or Basket Woman—whatever they called her—had kidnapped the little girls.

  I stood there, immobile, impotent, and unable to string even two thoughts together. I had to save them but didn’t know how. Should I waste time by running back to the village? Should I throw caution to the winds and search for them by myself? My question got an answer…but not in the way I wanted.

  Out of the growing murkiness a sharp cackle caught me in a web of sticky fear. The gratingly harsh laugh sounded again…and again…and it grew louder. Cannibal Woman was returning—probably for me. I had to hide, but the meadow offered nothing much in the way of protection.

  I sprinted to the opposite side of the clearing—away from the horrible laughter—and crouched behind a tall cedar. Holding my breath, I waited for the monstrous eater-of-children to show herself. I hadn’t long to wait. In seconds, the snapping of dry branches and the steady thump-thump of heavy feet let me know she drew close. Peering around the trunk, I took my first look at a creature so disgusting—so frightening—that it was all I could do not to scream from pure terror.

  Cannibal Woman.

  To say she was tall would be an understatement. She was a giant. At least eight feet tall—heavy, stooped, deformed. Her long, black hair hung in greasy clumps and I imagined I could smell her oily, filthy, smoky body, and gagged. The slight noise was all she needed to look in my direction. Even from across the meadow and in the collecting darkness of twilight, I could see her beady little eyes. They glowed a reddish-yellow, like an animal trapped in a flashlight beam at night.

  “Come here, little one,” she screeched. “I see you hiding behind that tree. You cannot hide from me. I see all…I know all. Come here.”

  “No.” I yelled back. “First tell me where you’ve taken the little girls. Bring them back and-and then I’ll go with you.”

  “It is too late,” she cackled shrilly. “They were tasty morsels, those two sweet young things. I am almost too full to eat any more, but I will save you until tomorrow when I will again be ravenous for flesh.”

  Cringing behind the wide girth of the cedar, I closed my eyes and tried to hang on to self-control. I’d never been so frightened in my life—didn’t know this degree of horror existed in the real world. I tried to pray. I, who had won ribbons in Sunday school, but fumbled in my mind for something to say. Then the words from Psalm 56 flashed in my mind and I whispered them aloud. “‘Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in you….’”

  A wail of frustration interrupted my prayer and forced me to return to the present crisis. Cannibal Woman had grown tired of waiting and lumbered toward me. Her eyes were on fire. Her open mouth displayed very sharp, very uneven teeth. Her claw-like hands raked the air in front of her as she walked. She looked angry…and I was the focus of her wrath.

  I searched the ground around me for weapons—anything that I could throw or jab or hit with. Except for a few dry twigs and small fir cones, I found nothing. Then I spied a rock, covered with lichens and moss, lying next to a rotting stump. I picked it up and turned to confront the ogress, only a yard or two away.

  “Stop.” I screamed. “Don’t come any closer.”

  She threw back her tangled mess of hair and laughed wildly. “You? I am not afraid of you. You silly girl.”

  As she got closer, I could see dried blood on her knobby hands and reddish-brown stains splattered on her dress. The thought of those two adorable little girls being frightened and hurt and then eaten, filled me with such overwhelming sadness and loss that I almost gave up. I almost dropped the rock—yielding to the horrendous fate awaiting me. Then a tiny thread of courage stiffened my back, and I looked up into her awful face.

  “You are a beast. Killing two innocent little girls.” I screamed. “Y-You’re going to be very, very sorry, you ugly wart.” And with that, I hoisted the rock over my head and threw it at her with more force than I dreamed was in me. The rock bounced off her beetle-browed forehead and rattled to the ground. It hadn’t fazed her in the least. She only chortled and reached out to grab me by the shoulders. I could smell her fetid, rancid breath.

  I screamed.

  TWELVE – SASQUATCH

  I screamed and screamed and screamed. I screamed until I was hoarse and short of breath. Cannibal Woman’s hands were shaking me, and she shouted at me in two voices. Flailing with my arms, I made frantic attempts to push her away, but it was no use. She had me in her clutches, and I was too weak to fight her off.

  Suddenly, darkness exploded into bright daylight, and I gasped as the sun pierced my eyes. I was lying on my back, staring up into two incredibly concerned faces. Little Feather and Blanket Girl knelt on either side of me, tears pouring from their almond-shaped brown eyes. I blinked several times—confusion making my mind a labyrinth of emotions.

  “Han-nah…Han-nah…please return to us,” Little Feather sobbed.

  Then comprehension flooded over me. It’d been a dream. I’d only been dreaming that Cannibal Woman had taken the children. Night hadn’t fallen. It was still daytime, and the sun was shining as brightly as ever. I sat up, rubbing my eyes with one hand and picking fir needles and grass off my dress with the other.

  I swallowed a hysterical chuckle and looked at the little girls apologetically. “I am so sorry. I fell asleep and had a bad dream…I’m sorry I scared you…really sorry.”

  The two little girls wiped the tears from their reddened cheeks and smiled. Little Feather patted my leg as though to reassure me. “You screamed. W-We were very frightened. We th-thought that Cannibal Woman had come.”

  I got to my feet and brushed the last of the dry bits from my clothes and sho
ok out my braid. I felt disheveled and frumpy and more than a little embarrassed. The girls would probably tell the entire town about it, and they’d think me either crazy or devoid of common sense. Maybe they’d even think I scared the children on purpose just to tease them. I kicked myself mentally for being so stupid. I never had nightmares at home—at least, not as vivid as that one had been. It’d seemed so real. So very, very real.

  “Come on, girls. Let’s go back to the village. I think we have enough berries, don’t you?” At their solemn nods I grinned, hoping to boost their spirits. I didn’t want them thinking I was a complete idiot. “I’ll carry the heaviest. My goodness, which one of you picked so many? Your mothers will be pleased.”

  Little Feather smiled shyly. “That basket is mine. I picked all those berries. I am very good at picking berries.”

  I tweaked her nose. “You certainly are. And Blanket Girl, your basket is almost as full. You did a good job, too. I’m the one who spent a lazy afternoon sleeping in the sunshine.”

  At the mention of my nap, both girls’ faces clouded. Blanket Girl frowned and glanced over her shoulder. “Did you…did you really see Cannibal Woman in your dream?”

  “Well, I dreamt about her but that doesn’t count because it was only a dream. Dreams aren’t real. You don’t have to worry. She’s not anywhere around. We’re safe.”

  I don’t think I convinced the two that we were in no danger from the ogress, but they didn’t press the subject further. We gathered our baskets and made our way across the meadow. As soon as we entered the forest, both girls walked as close beside me as was possible with the bulky baskets.

  More relaxed and used to the path by now, I wasn’t thinking of anything but my growing hunger. I knew I’d lost weight in the last few days. Most of the meals were so foreign and unappetizing to me that I ate hardly anything. Smoked salmon was delicious, and I enjoyed the steamed clams, but whale was something I’d yet been able to chew, let alone swallow. And fish heads? I can’t begin to describe how they looked—glassy, vacant eyes staring out blankly, and scaly, silver skin and pinkish flesh to be eaten raw or boiled. They were so strange and abhorrent that it was impossible for me to even look at them.

  Visions of baked ham and sweet potatoes and my mom’s string bean casserole danced in my memory, making my stomach growl. I was so hungry for what I considered “normal” food that I vowed, if I ever got home, I would even eat liver if it was served to me. A juicy cheeseburger would be the greatest treat of all. And pizza. Oh, how I missed pizza.

  I had to will myself to concentrate on where my current task. Whenever I allowed my thoughts to wander homeward, it made me so depressed that I got physically sick, and usually threw up. It wasn’t something I could do without raising some eyebrows. Joy always knew when I wasn’t feeling well, and she’d threatened more than once to tell her mother or father. A visit to the shaman would be in order and that was something I didn’t want to do. Ever.

  We rounded that same cedar tree blocking the path—the same place where Joy and I’d heard the whispering—when a large mound ahead caught our attention. I didn’t remember seeing it before. Not a rock or a stump, but sort of round, about as big as a backpack, and it remained motionless.

  “Wait, girls.” I extended my arm to keep them behind me.

  “What is it, Han-nah?” Little Feather whispered.

  “I don’t know. Give me a sec to check it out.” I pushed the little girls behind a tree, set my basket on a stump, and then crept toward the hump lying on the path. As I got closer, I saw a bundle of blankets tied together with braided cedar root. Touching the mound with one foot, I held my breath, expecting it to suddenly leap up or make a noise. It didn’t.

  I turned to the girls. “It’s nothing but a bundle of blankets. You can come on out.”

  They did—each wearing comical expressions of wide-eyed fear. Blanket Girl voiced her concern. “But, Han-nah…who would leave such a thing on the path?”

  That stumped me, of course. I knew things as precious as blankets were never left anywhere haphazardly or neglected. I shrugged. “That’s a good question. I know it wasn’t here when we came this way earlier.”

  “Perhaps Cannibal Woman dropped them,” Little Feather whispered, her chin quivering.

  I squelched that idea. I didn’t want them getting hysterical on me. “Of course it wasn’t Cannibal Woman.” I said firmly. “She’s nowhere around. I told you, it was just a dream. No Cannibal Woman. I promise.”

  Picking up the bundle, I waved at the berry baskets. “Come on, girls, get your baskets and let’s go home.” I placed the bundle on top of my basket and lifted the awkward load. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I thought I’d be able to make it as far as the village without having to leave one behind.

  The forest loomed up all around us. Muted green light filtered through the heavy branches that formed an awning—a teepee of voiceless infinite shades of green. The mystery seemed more intense, more dynamic. Maybe it was because of my traumatic dream. I don’t know. But all my bravado seemed to evaporate, like mist under a full sun. Tiny slivers of uncertainty slid down my neck, down my back, even down my legs.

  Pausing for a minute to rest my arms, I set my cumbersome basket-cum-bundle down and sat on a nearby log. The little girls stopped but refused to rest. They were impatient to get home. I didn’t blame them. Blanket Girl looked about ready to cry.

  “It’s all right, girls. I just need a minute to rest. My load is heavy and hard to carry. Okay?”

  They both stared at me solemnly. Their little round faces serious and alert. They were acutely aware of the deepening shadows and the omnipresent silence. I smiled at them and was about to reassure them once more, when a loud click, click, click, reverberated through the massive trunks and tangled undergrowth.

  Both girls dropped their baskets and clung to each other in mute alarm. I jumped to my feet so quickly that I stubbed my bare toe on another log. Oblivious to the pain, however, I did a three hundred and sixty-degree turn, raking the impenetrable depths with my eyes. I saw nothing that could’ve made that noise.

  “C’mon, girls, let’s run.” I said through clenched teeth. “Leave the baskets.”

  Grabbing Little Feather’s hand, I pulled her toward me and sprinted down the path. Blanket Girl, being towed by Little Feather, tripped on a creeping vine and tumbled to the ground. The jerk on my arm was painful, and I could tell that it had hurt Little Feather’s shoulder, too. We both helped Blanket Girl up, murmuring over her scratched knees. They bled but she bit her lip and didn’t cry.

  “It’s all right,” I soothed softly. “We’ll take care of those knees as soon as we get back to the village.”

  I bent down to look into the little girl’s stricken brown eyes reassure her. She wasn’t looking at me, however, but over my shoulder at something that rendered her paralyzed with fear. I looked up at Little Feather alarmed to see her face blanch before my eyes. I spun around to see what had them both so terrified.

  A face I’d only seen in movies peered at us through parted hemlock branches. Big, ape-like, and hairy, the face stared in ominous silence. Two dark eyes, a flat nose, and thin, black lips—partially open to reveal yellow teeth—looked at us as though we were interlopers into its private domain. Maybe we were.

  “Bigfoot. It’s real…” Too shocked to move, I could only stare back at that awesome face. An electric current shot through me that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. I couldn’t believe it. Bigfoot was real—not merely a scary story to tell around a campfire. Even in the midst of something so terribly mind-boggling, I thought of Jonah. He’d be so jealous when I told him that I’d actually seen Bigfoot with my own eyes.

  Jonah. The realization that I might not ever see my cousin again slapped me in the face with its harsh reality. I straightened my shoulders and put an arm around each of the little girls. They trembled and I wished there was something I could do to make their terror go away. Odd, but for some reason, I wasn’t s
cared.

  The ape-man continued to keep us trapped in his soundless scrutiny. Three pairs of eyes, staring into one pair—a pair more human than wild animal. Little Feather pressed against me. “Han-nah…it’s Sasquatch…”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Just remain calm. I don’t think he-it-wants to hurt us.”

  At our quiet words, the ape-man cocked his head as though trying to figure out what we were doing. I waited for him to make the first move. Outwardly, I was fairly calm, but inside I was sick to my stomach. After what seemed an eternity, Bigfoot melted into the dark green foliage and was gone. It was like he’d never been there in the first place.

  We stood like statues, hardly daring to breathe, until convinced he was really gone. Then I let out a long, shaky sigh and looked at the little ones beside me. I gave them a tremulous smile. “Well. Haven’t we a story to tell everybody. Are you feeling okay enough to start walking?”

  Blanket Girl’s eyes were as big as a horned owl’s and Little Feather chewed on her lower lip. Clearly, both girls had had enough traumas for one day. I couldn’t blame them. My legs felt like rubber bands.

  “Should we go back for our berries?” I asked in an overly bright voice. I was surprised when both girls nodded and headed back up the trail to where we had dropped the baskets in our fright.

  Little Feather’s basket had fallen on its side with half its berries scattered on the ground. Mine remained intact but Blanket Girl’s basket was nowhere to be seen. We searched the underbrush, thinking it had somehow rolled under a bush or something, but we couldn’t find it. This bothered me more than I let on to my young companions. They were already scared silly. I told them in as lighthearted a tone as I could muster that we would pick more another day. I also told them I was sure no one would scold us too much about the missing basket—especially when they heard our incredible tale. As we began our silent walk through the now thinning trees, it hit me that the bundle of blankets had been taken, too.