Wabi (18 page)

I took a step back, made a short run, and jumped. I soared over that opening, over the heads of the men, and landed softly on the ground behind them.

Everyone turned to stare at me, their mouths open.
Perhaps, I just leaped a little too high,
I thought.

“Who are you?” Fat Face said, dropping the pole he had been using to shift the fire.

“You know me,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “I am Wabi, just Wabi.” I tapped the beads that hung around my neck. Fat Face had been close by my side when the old man had given them to me. “Remember?”

“Ah,” Fat Face said, “Wabi. Wabi, ah, of course.” But he did not look or sound reassured. When I lifted my hand from his shoulder he took several steps backward very quickly. A little too quickly, for he stumbled and sat down hard on the ground, his eyes still on me.

I turned toward Dojihla's father. He, at least, had a smile on his face, even though I did not understand what he meant by what he said next.

“Just Wabi and nothing more? No other name?”

“Yes,” I replied. “What else?”

Dojihla's father nodded his head. “Of course. What else indeed?” He reached his hand out to grasp my forearm. “I am glad to see you.”

That surprised me, considering how I had left Valley Village. Not only that, I no longer wore my headband. Though I had given them no thought at all until now, my ears—so unlike those of a real human being—were clearly visible, their feathery tips rising up above my hair. But Wowadam was not looking at my ears. His eyes held mine, looking into them in a way that told me he was really seeing me. He truly was glad I was there.

I couldn't understand that. And there was another thing I couldn't understand.

“How did you know that a monster was coming?” I asked, swinging my free arm toward the fire that was at least the work of a full day.

“We were warned,” Wowadam said. “So we spent all day gathering fuel and making the fires. And it was good that we did so. Just as we finished, Majiawasos came rushing from the forest, knocking down trees. But when he saw our fires, he feared to cross them. He circled our village for half the night, roaring with anger. He just went back among the trees before you arrived.”

Majiawasos. The Bad Bear. So it was a huge bearlike monster. That made sense to me. But who had warned them?

However, I had more important questions to ask first.

“Is everyone safe inside the village?”

Dojihla's father nodded. “We gathered everyone in before the fires were lit.”

Relief washed over me like a gentle night wind that lifts your wings. I looked around at the circle of faces that had begun to gather as word of my presence spread. Of course, not everyone came to look at me. All around the village, people had to stay by their posts, piling on more fuel to keep the fires burning. But those who had come to look also seemed pleased to see me. All but two women, one older and one young. The older woman's face was one I recognized. It was Dojihla's mother. She and the girl beside her appeared worried.

“My husband,” she said, “
all
are not gathered here inside our village.”

Wowadam turned to her. “What do you mean? Everyone was told that they must stay within the circle of fire if they did not want to be caught by Majiawasos. Who would be headstrong enough to . . .”

Dojihla's father stopped talking in midsentence as the thought struck him.

Dojihla's mother nodded. She indicated the girl who stood beside her. “Peskawawon has just told me, even though Dojihla forbade her to do so. Her best friend, our daughter, slipped away into the forest before the fires were lit.”

“Why would she do that?” Wowadam asked.

“She said that just making fires around us would not be enough,” Peskawawon said, her words bursting forth in a torrent like water from a broken dam. “Those fires would burn out and then we would not be safe. She said that she had to find the Village Guardian because only he could save us. Perhaps he would forgive her and come back.”

“
Who
did she go to look for?” I asked, even though, dense as I am, I finally knew.

“She went to look for you,” all those gathered around me said as one.

“After you left the village,” Fat Face said, the friendly look back again, “people began to talk about you. They realized that with your strength and skill, you could easily have done us harm if you had wished to. You were not a monster.”

“Then,” Peskawawon said, “Dojihla herself decided who you really were. And she was so sorry that she had driven you away.”

I knew then what I had to do. And an idea came to me about how I could do it.

“Which way did she go?” I said to Peskawawon.

“Toward the cliffs,” she said, motioning with her chin.

A tall old woman with a kind face was looking at me from the far end of the crowd. Her hands were held up to get my attention. But I had no time to speak with anyone else. I turned toward Fat Face.

“My friend,” I said, “I am taking your fire pole.”

I lifted it from the ground. It was made from a young ash tree. It was as big around as my wrist. Where the end of it had been used to move the burning wood and brush, it had burned off into a hardened tip that was almost as sharp as a spear.

I unslung my bow and arrows from my shoulder. I would need both hands for this.

“Here,” I said, putting my club into the hands of Fat Face. “Take care of this for me. His name is Head Breaker.”

Then I lifted the pole to my shoulder, ran hard, and jumped with it over the circling fire, back out into the night where Majiawasos roamed.

I HAD TAKEN ONLY A few strides when Malsumsis leaped out of the forest at me. I almost stumbled, off balance from the weight of the fire pole, but recovered and kept running. My wolf friend joined me, running by my side as close as a second shadow.

I did not speak, but Malsumsis sensed the seriousness of my mood. We had to move quickly. We ran in a great arc, skirting the edge of the fire-circled village. Although my nose was not as sharp as that of my wolf friend, we both found the scent trail of Majiawasos, the Bad Bear, at the same time.

That scent. We'd first noticed it as we came over the crest of the mountain and stood in that pass between the two valleys. It had been faint then, but was strong now. It was the normal scent of a bear and it was not. A bear has the musky smell of earth and fur and its own sweat and the food that it eats. The Bad Bear's scent was that and much more. The wholesome smell of a normal bear was washed over by the rankness of burned hair and flesh, and decay. This creature reeked of death.

There was not just one scent trail here for Malsumsis to follow. There were two. My own weaker nose caught that second scent as well. It was the clean smell of a strong young woman, her smoke-tanned doeskin dress, her hair that was washed clean and tied back. I knew why the great creature had ceased its circling around Valley Village. It had caught the odor of one of those human creatures it sought to destroy. It was on Dojihla's trail.

Is it possible to be in love with someone and be very angry at her at the same time? Why was Dojihla so stubborn, so headstrong? Why did she fool herself into believing that I was so competent as a Village Guardian that I would always come help her village when it was in danger? Didn't she know that I was just as capable of making mistakes as any other human? I was almost as angry as I was afraid that I would be too late.

Even without the help of Malsumsis's nose, the trail would have been easy for me to follow. Whereas Dojihla had slipped through the forest on winding paths made first by deer and then by generations of humans, the giant bear had gone straight, tearing through the brush, knocking over the trees. This creature was at war with all that lived.

The sun began to lift above the cliffs in front of us. I felt its welcome warmth on my face. For the first time, I greeted it the way I had always greeted its paler sister of the night sky.

“Bright one,” I said as I ran, speaking those words I had once said as a night-hunting owl, “thank you for your light. Help me find that which I seek.”

Malsumsis was a few strides ahead of me as we came out of the forest. By now I realized that the path we were following, the branch in the trail that Dojihla had taken, was a choice made by one who knew she was being pursued. The other branch in the trail led to an open area away from the cliffs. There she would have been exposed to the monster that was after her.

But the way she had chosen was different. The trail was narrower here because of the fallen stones from the cliff. Some of those boulders were so large that even the giant bear had been unable to shoulder them aside as it ran. Instead it had to go around or over them, slowing its pace. Not only that, around the next bend in the trail there were caves in the face of the cliff. I had seen them during my night flights. Sometimes bats flew out of those dark openings in the stone. Hard to catch, but crunchy and tasty. If she had reached one of those caves, perhaps . . .

“Malsumsis,” I called in an urgent voice, “Stop!”

Malsumsis stopped before he went around the bend in the trail. I came up beside him, breathing in and out deeply, slowing my heart and listening to see if I would hear again what I thought I had heard.

And from around the bend that sound did come again.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP-THUMP-THUMP WHACK!

Holding my hand out in the signal for my wolf friend to wait, I crept forward to peer around the bend in the trail. It was just as well that I was cautious. There, just around that bend, was a sudden, steep, and slippery slope. Such a steep slope would have been no problem if I had still been a creature with wings. But one with legs would have found himself sliding down headlong toward the bottom. And there, at the bottom of that slope, was Majiawasos.

The monster bear was not looking our way. Instead, standing on its hind legs, it was trying to scale the steep cliff in front of it. It was totally intent on the small figure who looked down from the mouth of a cave above it. Majiawasos was grimly silent as it slowly crawled up. Its claws dug into the stone face, catching on those same handholds Dojihla had used to scramble up to the shallow cave that was her place of refuge.

Dojihla had gone as high as she could go. She was trapped by the steepness of the stone overhang above her. But, in her usual determined way, Dojihla was not waiting for the monster to reach her. Instead she was pushing hard against another of the big stones at the mouth of her cave. One more shove and it went rolling down.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP-THUMP-THUMP WHACK!

The stone struck one of Majiawasos's paws, knocking it free from its grasp on the cliff face.

“ROWWWRRR!”

The giant bear let out a great roar that echoed back from the cliff. It slid back down to the bottom, shaking the paw that had been struck by the boulder. But it was not badly hurt. It raked its claws in fury against the broken pieces of the stone that had grazed it, scattering them in all directions. Then, once again as silent as death, it resumed its climb.

There was, I could see, only one more stone that might be pushed down. It looked far too large for Dojihla to move. Even though she was leaning against it with her back, pushing with both her legs, her face flushed from the strain, that stone did not want to budge.

There was only one thing I could think to do—if you could call what I did next a thoughtful action.

“HOOO-HOOO,” I shouted.

My call was so high, so loud that both Dojihla and the monster bear turned their heads in my direction.

The look that came into Dojihla's eyes made my heart leap. She really was glad to see me.

“Wabi! I knew you would come for me!” she called. It was not just the words that she spoke, but the way she spoke them that made my heart jump even higher.

“Dojihla,” I said, “stay there.”

Foolish words, I know. She could not go higher and was certainly not about to climb down toward certain death. But that was all I could manage to say.

I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell her how I had always felt about her. I wanted to let her know that I longed to spend the rest of my life with her. However, my mouth could not find such words. Perhaps it was because I was not certain if I was going to survive what I was about to do. Then again, I did not have that much time for such a conversation.

But even though I could not talk, I could still act.

“HOOO-HOOO!” I shouted. The Bad Bear had stopped trying to climb. It was looking in my direction.

Then, holding the long, sharp pole firmly under my arm, I leaped forward and began to slide on my back down that steep slope.

I KNOW THAT IT MUST have taken no more than the space of a few heartbeats for me to reach the bottom of that slope, but it seemed much longer. Sometimes things happen that way, such as when you are swooping down on a nice fat rabbit and you suddenly find yourself noticing every little detail—that the bush it has just crept out of is one of those that has yellow flowers, that there are three tall blades of grass next to the rabbit's front paws, that the rabbit is acting as if it is frozen.

But I was not swooping toward a rabbit, my wings holding me perfectly in control for the strike of my claws. The only control I had was on my gaze and the direction I pointed the sharp end of my fire stick. The great bear's paws were held wide, its own terrible claws were extended. Its gaping mouth showed yellow-stained teeth.

Yet the menace of that monster was not the only thing I noted in the brief moment that seemed to go on and on and on. What I saw made me feel pity for the creature that now intended to crush my bones and tear my flesh. Though the great creature's muscles still rippled with power, it was gaunt and had been wounded many times. There was dead flesh around its wounds. There were burn marks all over its body. One of its eyes was missing. Its wounds were too many to heal, the rot of its body too far advanced. It was living as it died. That was why the smell of burning and rotted flesh was part of its scent.