It stunned him that the Spirit seemed suspicious and afraid. What could an old man do to harm a Spirit? Then again, maybe it wasn’t harm the Spirit feared. Perhaps it was just the way of the chase. Run and feint. Let your prey catch up, then whirl around and snap at it, keep it at bay until the final moment. The final lunge for the throat.
Sky Messenger saw his chance and dashed out into the meadow, heading directly for the Voice … and the chase resumed.
Time and again he cornered the creature and tried to force it to answer his questions before it darted away. He stumbled after it in some incomprehensible ancient dance. Was it just a man? Sometimes he thought so. But why would a strong young man let Sky Messenger catch him? The Voice ran until Sky Messenger was right on its heels; then it whirled around snarling. He would never have caught the Voice if it did not wish to be caught. Surely this was some Spirit game.
He halted, breathing hard, and let his gaze drift over the brush and trees.
I’m here, Odion.
He saw it. The Voice stood just ahead, hidden behind a frost-covered dogwood. Its eyes gleamed through the dark weave of branches.
Come … . Follow me.
It trotted away, repeatedly looking back over its shoulder, as if to make certain he was still behind; then it disappeared into the forest.
Sky Messenger worked his way down a winding forest trail dappled with snow and frost-rimmed leaves, simultaneously fearing and eager for what he would next see.
“Where are you?” he called. “I’ve lost you.”
From the dark depths of the forest came the call—a long drawn-out wail, his name in the voice of a wolf, howled with chilling effect.
Sky Messenger’s bony fingers tightened around the knob of his walking stick. He was close now. Very close, and he dared not be afraid of what would come. He swallowed hard and limped forward.
On the other side of a birch copse, the trail sloped upward to a high point overlooking a hilly country filled with great stretches of forests and shining creeks.
Odion.
There. On the trail below.
The Voice let him get to within thirty paces, and started slowly walking away.
Through endless towering trees, Sky Messenger followed, step after step, always twenty paces behind, until Elder Brother Sun rose red over the eastern horizon. As the air warmed, an exotic flowery fragrance wafted around him. His nostrils quivered. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the otherworldly sweetness, and his old heart began to slam against his ribs. That scent!
In the distance, he saw flocks of birds gathered over a bridge, fluttering, waiting. All along the planks of the bridge, mice darted, their furred backs shining in the newborn light. There were other animals, too. A white-tailed doe, and a lean young wolf.
At the sight of the wolf, tears traced warm lines down Sky Messenger’s wrinkled cheeks. He had been running from this moment his entire life. He whispered, “Hello, old friend.”
The Voice stopped dead in the trail and let him advance to stand at its side. Sky Messenger shivered. He understood now.
He was answering the last call, walking at the side of the only brother who truly mattered. The brother who had always been there, as unobtrusive as his own shadow, watching over him, fighting at his side on the darkest days.
“You can tell me now,” he said, and took a breath to prepare himself. “What is your name?”
The Voice hissed, the sound like a truce being broken by an arrow, and he thought he made out the word Sonon.
“Sonon?”
Yes, do you remember me, Odion?
Ancient memories flooded up from behind doors buried deep in his heart, doors Sky Messenger had kept barricaded for sixty-five summers. Behind them monsters still lived and breathed.
He shook his head and stumbled backward. “No. No, I—I can’t—!”
Remember, Odion. You must remember now. It’s time.
All of the doors he had so carefully guarded vanished, and a sea of ghostly eyes started coming toward him.
Shuddering, Sky Messenger sank down in the trail and squeezed his eyes closed. As the monsters surrounded him, terror swept him back in time to that long-ago day when this journey had truly started … .
Two
Odion
The patter of rain falling through branches fills the forest and mixes eerily with the laughter of warriors. The sound of children’s feet wading through deep autumn leaves is loud.
I dare to glance up. The storm has sucked the color from the trees. The giant oak trunks look black, their branches iron-gray. We are not on a trail, but march through scrubby underbrush. Ahead of me, one boy and four girls walk with their heads down. Some weep softly, but mostly they are as silent as the dead relatives they left behind in their burned villages.
As the enemy warriors herd us up a steep mountain trail, I see a small clearing ahead. Patches of sunlight penetrate the dark clouds and briefly blaze through the brilliant maples and hickory trees. They seem almost too bright. Painful. I squint and force my legs to keep walking until the clouds swallow Elder Brother Sun again.