Yellowstone Legends Page 6
It quickly became clear which elk the pack would bring down. One of the calves wasn’t as quick as the rest of the herd. Now that it had caught Wo'itsa’s eye, it looked rather weak and sickly. Working in unison, the wolves quickly separated the calf from the others. Its mother made a desperate attempt to draw the predators away from her offspring, but she didn’t dare take on an entire pack of wolves. When the young elk was taken down by several of the pack, the cow retreated, leaping after the rest of the herd, which had already disappeared into the trees.
Wo'itsa followed the battle for survival with keen interest. Wolves were masters at coordinating a hunt, and the Tukudeka hunters emulated their tactics when they worked in groups. With the aid of their dogs, they brought down large game in organized hunts much like these wolves were doing.
By now, they danced around their kill, tails high and wagging, and barking in triumph. The alpha female raised her nose to the air and howled a victory song, and the alpha male quickly joined in. Ravens already circled overhead and congregated nearby to announce that there had been a kill.
Wo'itsa remained where he was for some time, studying the group of wolves as they hovered around their prize. A certain pride and kinship welled in his heart for these animals. They were his spirit guides after all, and he’d been named after them.
He shook his head, and frowned. Why had the shaman given him a powerful name when he’d done nothing to do it justice? Last night had only been the second time he’d been granted a vision, and it left him more confused than ever. While he’d had a difficult time trying to communicate with the Sky People, it came easy for men like Cameahwait and Matunaaga, who had never even sought their guidance.
Brushing off the slight twinge of annoyance, Wo'itsa shifted in the grass and focused on the wolf pack in the clearing. When his stomach growled to let him know that he still had to find his own breakfast, he moved to return to his camp. There were still some dried nut cakes left. It would have to do until he could find some fresh meat.
He stood, then froze. In the clearing, a large, shaggy body emerged from the forest. The lumbering beast approached the wolf pack without worry, moving faster toward the dead calf even as the wolves began to growl and snap.
Wo'itsa stood rooted to the spot as the giant grizzly rose on its hind legs and let out a roar that reverberated through the trees. The ravens cawed loudly, and most of them rose into the air, apparently wanting no part in the fight. They didn’t go far, however, and sailed on the breeze above the predators.
The wolves ran at the bear, who swiped his paws through the air to fend them off. The giant predator grabbed for the calf and dragged it a short distance, with some of the wolves hanging on to the other end. Whenever one of the wolves darted forward for an attack, the bear roared and lunged at them, swiping his great paws at his adversaries.
While the wolves were quick and maneuvered out of the way, the bear persisted, and ate from the kill that didn’t belong to him. The wolves could do nothing but harass the giant bruin, who didn’t relinquish the meat. Bits and pieces of Wo'itsa’s vision came to mind. The wolves, who had been guiding a fleeing group of people while several bears pursued them, and then the strange and foreign place where he’d seen the older bear argue with the young she-bear. What did it all mean?
Wo'itsa moved to leave. It was getting late, and the journey back to his village would take several days. Once the bear had eaten his fill, he might leave and allow the wolves to reclaim the meat for which they had worked hard. One thing was clear, however, as he continued to keep an eye on the predators in the clearing. Even a pack of wolves were no match against the mighty grizzly.
“The wolves try, but they are no match for the grizzly. He takes what he wants.”
Wo'itsa’s body tensed at the raspy voice behind him, voicing what he’d been thinking. From instinct, he reached over his shoulder for an arrow from his quiver and strung his bow, and spun around at the same time. His arrow pointed at the heart of the elder he’d sent away the night before.
Wo'itsa frowned, and lowered his weapon. “I could have killed you,” he grumbled.
Mukua cackled. “Were I your enemy, you would be dead already, Wo'itsa. You are the careless one, not me, for not paying attention to your surroundings. You might do well to learn from the wolves you’re watching.”
Wo'itsa lowered his gaze, then looked to where the wolves were still trying to get their kill back from the bear. The alpha female snarled and jumped at the bear, but he swiped at her, sending her tumbling into the grass. She emitted a loud yelp, then ran a safe distance to avoid the bear’s deadly claws.
Mukua scoffed. “They always think they have the right to take everything, and to make others bow to their wishes.”
Wo'itsa’s gaze darted from the wolves to the elder. “What are you talking about?”
“The mighty grizzly. Always taking when the opportunity presents itself. Bear might be stronger, but in the end, Wolf is quicker and will outsmart him. So it was with the Sky People, and so it shall be again.”
The elder smiled at Wo'itsa with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Would it even matter if he asked what Mukua meant? He returned the smile. Hadn’t he said something similar to Cameahwait at one time?
Wo'itsa stuck the arrow back in his quiver. He glanced at the hornbow he carried. It was the same weapon he’d offered Cameahwait as a gesture of their friendship when he needed a bow.
“Why must the bear and wolf outwit the other? The wolves brought down the elk to feed them all.” Wo'itsa gestured with his chin in the direction of the pack and the bear. “And why this talk about the Sky People?”
Mukua stared at him. His eyes narrowed as they studied him. “Have you not learned anything from your vision?”
A strange sensation passed through Wo'itsa. His muscles tensed as they’d done a few minutes ago when Mukua had come up on him undetected.
“What do you know about my vision?”
Mukua laughed. “Have you not listened to anything I’ve said to you, Wo'itsa? Am I not the one who told you nearly a season ago to seek another vision? I’ve waited a long time for you to journey to the mountains. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t heed my advice. Do you not believe me when I tell you that I am an elder of the Sky People?”
Wo'itsa held the man’s gaze. He’d had his doubts about whether Mukua was telling him the truth. He should have asked his shaman if he had heard about this elder, but he’d kept their last encounter to himself. What if this man truly was one of the Sky People?
“You have been conflicted about your role in your clan, Wo'itsa. You, who asked for guidance from the spirits, were cast aside by the ones whose wisdom you seek. Your friend shunned the Sky People, yet he is favored by them above all others, and you’ve often wondered why.”
A triumphant gleam passed over the elder’s face when Wo'itsa stared in silence. How did this man know so much about him? There was truly only one explanation for it.
“The shaman speaks of two brothers when he mentions the last remaining Sky People, and another who was an outcast.”
Mukua’s laugh was nothing more than a snicker. He moved away from the tree he leaned against, and headed into the forest. Wo'itsa glanced into the clearing a final time. The wolves had managed to chase the bear away, and congregated around their kill. He looked at Mukua, who stepped around an old tree that had fallen to the ground a long time ago, perhaps as long ago as when the Sky People still lived among the Tukudeka.
With a shake of his head, he followed the elder back to his camp. Perhaps he should hear what Mukua had to say.
“What is it that you want from me?”
Mukua turned his head to look at Wo'itsa, and laughed. “I have told you, you have powerful puha, Wo’itsa. The spirit of the wolf lives inside you. Not since the clan of the Wolf have I sensed such strong spirit medicine. You must sense it, too, from the visions you’ve had.”
Wo'itsa gripped his hornbow. The elder wasn’t answering his questions.
Mukua stopped, and faced him. “It means, Wo’itsa, that you can be of great help to me.”
Wo'itsa’s brows rose. He leaned forward slightly. “Help to you? If you are truly an elder of the Sky People, why do you not seek out Cameahwait and Matunaaga? They have been chosen by the elders.”
Mukua’s eyes turned dark, and a flash of something that could be mistaken for hatred passed through them. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“Cameahwait and Matunaaga are protected by my brothers. It is because of them that the Sky People are no more.”
Wo'itsa frowned. “I don’t understand your words. The two clans of the Sky People destroyed each other. Only three elders remain.”
Mukua nodded while his face remained impassive. “You know much, Wo’itsa, but you do not know the truth. It is the fault of my brothers, Naatosi and Naatoyita, that the clans were wiped out. They, along with the shaman and the chieftain of the Bear Clan, sought to destroy the Wolf Clan rather than bring back peace. You saw it in your vision.”
Wo'itsa’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe you?”
Mukua smiled, as if he’d expected the question. “When you had your first vision, did Naatoyita or Naatosi come to you and tell you that you have special puha? No, they chose Cameahwait, who wanted nothing to do with the Sky People, and Matunaaga, who chose to leave these mountains.” He paused before adding in a raised voice, “Did they answer your pleas when you sought another vision to make sense of your loss of the woman who was supposed to be your wife?”
Wo'itsa clenched his jaw. He glared at the man for bringing up the reason he’d pursued a second vision several seasons ago. How much should he tell this man?
“It is unclear to me what I saw in my vision. The first time, it revealed to me that the clans destroyed each other and were bitter enemies. Last night . . .” He shook his head, trying to make sense of the images.
“If you will let me, I can reveal to you what your vision means.” Mukua put a hand on Wo'itsa’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Your clan’s shaman has been told lies by my brothers. Cameahwait and Matunaaga have no desire to keep our sacred mountains the way they have been for generations.”
Wo'itsa tensed. Was this man speaking the truth? He slowly shook his head, but before he could object to what Mukua said, the elder continued.
“Haven’t they already brought change to the land? Cameahwait has no respect for the old ways. Matunaaga chose not to stay. More changes will come that threaten our way of life. The woman you aided a season ago, she came to lead Matunaaga away. I had to do something to keep them apart, but my brothers always interfere.”
Mukua dropped his hand from Wo'itsa’s shoulder. His expression was one of sorrow, making the lines of age appear even deeper on his face.
“The leaders of the Bear Clan were unreasonable. The chief and shaman wanted to make sure their line would not die with the rest of the people. They asked to call forth an ancient medicine to protect their sons, but no one else. Agwai Puhagand, the shaman of the clan, refused my pleas to save others as well, saying the medicine wouldn’t be strong enough and therefore only his son and the son of the chief could be sent to safety. When I argued with him, I was no longer welcome by my people.”
The older man’s face hardened, and his eyes clouded with pain and loss, but also with anger. It was a look that was all too familiar. Their gazes met.
“We both suffered a loss because of someone else’s interference, so you understand my pain.”
Wo'itsa listened quietly. His heart pounded stronger in his chest. Yes, he understood sorrow for losing someone at the hand of another. He turned away from Mukua, and headed in the direction of his camp. Mukua fell in step beside him, but he remained silent as well.
The shaman told the stories of the Sky People differently. He often spoke of the war between the clans, using it as a reminder to remain peaceful. The Tukudeka kept to themselves, away from most other tribes for this very reason.
“You have lost someone who owned your heart, have you not?” Mukua prodded, glancing sideways and seeking Wo'itsa’s eyes. “I have, as well.”
Wo'itsa kept his face impassive to hide his surprise that Mukua knew about that part of him, too. He’d all but forgotten about the woman who had chosen another over him, but now the anger returned.
“I sought a new vision, and guidance from the Sky People when the woman who was supposed to be my wife decided to become the wife of a hunter from another clan. The Sky People refused to speak to me.”
Mukua nodded. “Naatosi and Naatoyita refused to listen to my pleas to help me protect my wife, as well. They listened to the chief and shaman over their own brother.” His voice sounded like that of a spitting wildcat, filled with anger and hatred.
They walked in silence until they reached Wo’itsa’s camp. Mukua stopped and turned to Wo'itsa. “When our paths crossed last season, I knew there was something different about you, and I was right. You are no ordinary Tukudeka hunter.”
Wo'itsa shrugged, and bent to revive the coals in his dead campfire. “There is nothing different about me.”
“Your vision has led me to complete the first part of what we must do to restore the balance.”
Wo'itsa glanced up and over his shoulder at the man who hovered just behind him. If this elder was of the Sky People, he could offer more answers about his vision than his own shaman.
“Tell me about my vision. What does it mean?”
Mukua smiled, clearly pleased. He nodded. “In your vision, you traveled to a place far into the future.”
Wo'itsa stood. His forehead scrunched. Cameahwait and his wife had spoken of the future, and so had the woman, Kayla, who had come to find Matunaaga. He hesitated before asking, “The future?”
“You also saw that the people were not safe from the bears, and the wolf tried to lead them to safety.”
“But why? What does this vision have to do with me?”
“Naatoyita and Naatosi kept you hidden from me. They know that you can help me restore what the Wolf Clan tried to protect.”
Wo'itsa shook his head and took a step back. “How can I help you against the elders of the Sky People?”
A thousand questions raced through Wo'itsa’s mind. He glanced up at the pinnacles of the tallest lodgepoles in the forest as they stretched into the sky. The trees refused to give him answers. How could he possibly possess the power of the Sky People? He wasn’t one of them. He was a good hunter in his clan, but nothing exceptional. Shouldn’t he feel different somehow if an elder of the Sky People had chosen him? Had Cameahwait felt different?
“How am I supposed to help you?”
“We have to change what will come.” Mukua reached into his medicine pouch around his neck. He held open his hand to reveal a carving of a snake’s head.
“There are others like this one. Help me find them, and we can return balance to the sacred mountains.”
Wo'itsa stared at the carving. The red stones that served as eyes glowed when the sun’s rays shone on them, holding his attention as if something within it was calling to him.
Chapter 6
Kendra pulled her pistol from her back holster, and removed the magazine for inspection. As expected, all seventeen rounds were present. The last time she’d fired the gun had been the day she’d trained on the shooting range. She clicked the magazine back into the chamber.
She glanced at the gun. She wasn’t back on duty until tomorrow, so there was no need to even carry a weapon today, but out of habit, she stuck it in the holster concealed behind her back under her tank top. Seconds later, she removed her belt and locked the weapon in a drawer in her bedroom dresser. She had no need for the gun today.
Kendra glanced around the living room of her small apartment, not looking at anything in particular. The phone call last evening had been most unusual after having just returned from buryin
g her grandfather. She shook her head and scoffed. As if anything that had happened in the last week had been normal.
Why, though, would Matt Donovan’s teenage daughter want to talk to her? What information did Aimee have about her father that she would want Kendra to know? It wasn’t as if she and Aimee knew each other.
After hanging up the phone with the girl last night and telling her she’d stop by her house today, Kendra had spent a restless night thinking about all the things that had occurred in the last week. What was the connection between her, Matt Donovan, and her grandfather, and why did three people have to die because of it?
No one would ever make a connection between the deaths and her, but it was so obvious to her. Kendra rolled her eyes and raked her fingers through her hair. There probably was no connection, and it was all in her head. The more she’d thought about it, however, the more convinced she’d become that these deaths had something in common.
It didn’t matter what her grandfather’s coroner report said, or that there was no evidence of foul play in the Donovan car accident. The common link was her Native American heritage, as far-fetched as it seemed, but no investigator would ever believe that.
Kendra slipped into a light jacket and left her apartment. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Kunu.” Not only to figure out the deaths of three people, even though they seemed purely random, but also for her own sanity. Guilt consumed her. Both her grandfather and Matt Donovan had been trying to tell her something, and she’d refused to listen.
Her dreams hadn’t recurred since the day of Matt’s death, but every time she closed her eyes, fuzzy images of wolves and bears plagued her. If she was going to get any peace of mind, she had to figure out what the connection was between her, her grandfather, and Matt Donovan. Going to Matt’s home to meet with his daughter was the logical first step. Maybe through Aimee, she could begin to make some sense of it all.
It was still warm and humid as Kendra walked down the street of her apartment building in the late afternoon. Once she reached the intersection at the end of the block, she could hail a cab. Not many taxi drivers came down this quiet side alley on a regular basis. A group of kids were playing street hockey, their laughter rising above the occasional honks and revved motors from cars in the distance.