At the sound of the bloodhounds my skin crawled. How many times had I called out the dogs at a crime scene when a responding officer hadn’t done so himself? Now, right along with Phoebe, I was among the hunted—and could no longer rely on Charging Bear’s superior knowledge of the forest to get us home free. Keeping us safe required all of my experience. “Quick,” I said, “we need to move as fast as we can—downwind. Anything we do will only slow the dogs, but if we can tire or confuse the handlers, they might call off the dogs.”
Following my instructions, Charging Bear remained in the lead. After half a mile a fallen tree blocked the trail. Instead of going around, we climbed over. Another mile passed, and we came to a stream. “Cross at an angle,” I said.
Charging Bear did as I instructed. We slogged across the water and followed its course for another mile before crossing again. Over several miles, we crisscrossed the stream three more times. The hounds’ barks faded. Even so, we couldn’t let our guard down. We had only temporarily outdistanced them and continued on. Phoebe’s hands were clammy and cold. I rubbed them with my own to help her warm up, but her gait was getting slower and slower. “We’ve got to keep going, Phoebe.”
“Aye, I’m doing my best.”
“I know.” For a moment, I thought about facing the colonists myself. I had three shots left in my Glock. If I—foolish thinking. Exhaustion must have been hitting me too. By confronting the men who wanted to hang Phoebe, I would make it easier for them to succeed.
“We will be entering Monacan hunting ground soon,” Charging Bear said.
“Enemies on both sides—that could get interesting,” I responded.
“We’re not near their towns. Unless we encounter them whilst hunting, we should be able to avoid them.”
Thank goodness for small favors, but I also remembered how often we had come across travelers on my other journeys. Somehow since none of us spoke the language, I didn’t think sharing the latest gossip and available foodstuff, or passing a pipe would hold a determined Monacan warrior off, any more than the colonists who were doggedly tracking us. Still we continued on. “Have you traveled into Monacan territory before?” I asked.
“Once or twice,” Charging Bear answered.
So we really were on our own. Deeper and deeper into Monacan territory we traveled. Several crows cawed making a loud racket. The black birds dive-bombed a hawk that had intruded in their air space. The scene reminded me of the time I went across campus to speak to the forensic anthropologist, who had shown me the reconstructed skull that resembled me. How many months ago? This time, I understood the sign. The official boundaries were many years in the future, but I was beginning to comprehend the fluidity of time. We had crossed into the county where I had served as a cop.
Not wanting to upset Phoebe further, I maintained silence. As it was, I supported more and more of her weight the farther we walked. “Charging Bear, Phoebe needs rest.” He agreed, and I helped her find a suitable place to sit on the ground.
“I shall double back and see if our pursuers are nearby,” Charging Bear said.
Once again, I warned him to be careful, and he assured me that he would. I sat next to Phoebe and held her. She rested her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. I truly had no idea how much longer I could remain awake without dozing myself. I longed for a strong dose of caffeine. All of the stakeouts, physical training, and overly long night hours—nothing could have prepared me for the past few days. I closed my eyes until a voice called out. Waking with a start, I drew my Glock and stood.
“Relax, brother,” Charging Bear said. “ ’Tis me.”
I breathed out in relief and holstered the gun. “What did you find out?”
“They follow us but are a good distance behind. I believe they’ve halted their search for the day.”
Only with his words did I realize most of the day had passed. The sun was low on the horizon. Phoebe joined me and hooked her arm through mine. “Then we should make use of what daylight we have left to put more distance between us,” I said.
“Agreed. Afterward, we shall rest.”
I looked at Phoebe, and she nodded that she was ready to continue. “I’ll carry you if necessary, but we will get you to safety.”
She covered her mouth, hiding a yawn, and shoved her disheveled red hair away from her face. “I shall manage.”
Her words bravely said one thing, but her struggle to keep up said another. The farther we traveled, the more she leaned on me. By nightfall, she could barely put one foot in front of the other. As on the previous night, Charging Bear and I exchanged watches while Phoebe slept. In the morning, thunderclouds greeted us. As much as I hated walking through a storm, the turn of weather was a blessing. Rain would slow the tracking dogs, and their handlers were more likely to make mistakes.
Instead of seeking refuge, we struggled to remain on the trail as rain pelted us. The wind gusted, and in my mind I heard its voice saying, “This way.” But was it leading me to my death?
The rain turned into a torrential downpour. No longer left with a choice, Charging Bear found us refuge in a hollow. We covered ourselves with branches and leaves to wait out the storm. In my arms, Phoebe trembled. I held her tighter and soon she slept in my arms again. “Charging Bear, if anything should happen, will you see that my family is taken care of?”
“Aye. That is the way it’s done here.”
At least that much was a comfort. “Thank you, brother.”
After about an hour, the lashing rain changed to a drizzle. As we returned to the trail, I spotted a crow in a nearby tree. When the bird cawed, I realized it wasn’t a spirit but a real bird. We continued on, and a flock gathered, almost as if waving me on.
By midday the sun had come out, and we rested in its growing warmth. Even though we had skimped, the last of Elenor’s rations were consumed. I gave Phoebe my last bite of cornbread when I heard a rustle of leaves. Charging Bear nodded that he had heard it too, and we reached for our weapons. From the trail where we had already traveled appeared two Native men. I blinked in disbelief and lowered my Glock. They weren’t Monacan warriors but Black Owl and Swift Deer. “How did you find us?” I asked, holstering my piece.
“We followed the hounds,” Black Owl replied, “until the tassantassas could go no further.”
Swift Deer laughed. “They became mired in the mud. We’ve come to take you home.”
No words could have brought me greater pleasure. Even Phoebe had renewed energy, and in case the colonists decided to take up the chase again, we began the return journey along a different trail. About an hour later, Phoebe could barely walk and we rested.
After another hour, she stood. “I’m ready to continue now.”
The others got to their feet, and we returned to the trail.
With each step, I knew in my heart that we got closer to where the skeleton had been found. Then, I heard the bloodhounds. They were hot on our trail. “We need to split up,” I said. “They’re after Phoebe. I’ll stay with her. We can meet...” I was slow to think—exhaustion had hit me.
“One of us must stay with you,” Charging Bear said. “You don’t know the land.”
“I know it better than you may realize, but I agree—”
Baying hounds in the distance cut off my words. Charging Bear made arrangements with Black Owl as to where we would meet at dusk. Without bothering to say farewells, we separated and set off again. Each step brought me closer to that deadly spot. The dogs would finally catch up with us there. “We need to change direction.”
Without asking why, Charging Bear obliged. Shifting course became a tactic. We did so repeatedly, hoping that we might confuse the handlers and elude the dogs. Before long, I realized we were on the very path I had been avoiding. We went up a hill to a copse of trees. At the top, I envisioned the house where the landowners would uncover a skeleton, forcing them to call in the police. I tried to lead Phoebe away from the spot, but she stumbled and would have fallen if I hadn’t caught her. She attempted to take another step but crumpled in my arms. I could no longer evade my fate. The ground was easily defensible. I looked at Charging Bear. “Go on without us.”
“We will stand our ground here—together,” he replied.
“Nay,” Phoebe said, “I cannot have you do this because of me.”
While Charging Bear notched his bow with an arrow, I took out my Glock. Before I went down, I would make my remaining rounds count. “Walks Through Mist, you knew from the beginning this is our way. Now seek shelter.”
When tears filled her eyes, I nearly apologized for being harsh, but she scrambled on her hands and knees to the undergrowth behind a tree. My gaze met hers, and I knew that she understood. The barking dogs grew closer. Charging Bear and I sought cover for ourselves. Several crows gathered in the branches above us. Five colonists, following two bloodhounds on long lines, appeared on the ground below. The crows screamed and swooped over the men’s heads, dive-bombing them like they had the hawk. The commotion created a distraction.
At the same time that I fired, Charging Bear loosed an arrow. Two men sank. One fired a flintlock in our direction, missing us entirely. Another raised his musket. At the same time I fired, Charging Bear shot off another arrow. The man fell. The two that remained standing ran away. Something didn’t feel right. Instead of celebrating our victory, I motioned to Phoebe to remain where she was.
The surrounding area had grown quiet. Not even a bird sang. I had that uneasy feeling in my gut that we weren’t alone. I traded a glance with Charging Bear. No words were necessary. A seasoned warrior, he felt it too. I surveyed the ground below and the woods behind us. The only sound was my own uneven breathing and pounding heart.
I checked to my right, then my left. Behind us, the woods could easily provide cover for a number of men. If there had been more than five of them, the others could have circled around. A branch snapped. Definitely behind us. Gunfire. I wheeled around and fired my last bullet. A scream rose from the forest, then I felt the pressure of a sharp blade against my throat.
Our gazes locked. Only hatred existed in his blue eyes. The knife nicked my neck, but before he cut my throat, he screamed and sank to his knees. A tomahawk protruded from his back. Black Owl. That’s when I knew the secret the skeleton held. “Nows!” I cried in warning.
Too late. Black Owl pitched forward.
I wasn’t fast enough. My father hit the ground before I could catch him. More screams surrounded me, then stillness descended on the forest once more. Phoebe was soon beside me checking Black Owl to see where he had been hit. His back was covered in blood, and she pressed a cloth to it. The bleeding slowed.
Charging Bear and Swift Deer stood beside us. “The remaining tassantassas are dead or have run off,” Swift Deer reported.
Black Owl spoke, but his voice was so soft I couldn’t make out his words. I leaned closer to hear him better. “This time... I was where... I was needed.”
Phoebe looked over at me. “I can remove the ball. My momma taught me how.”
I had hope. She could operate. I would be the blood donor like in Wildcat’s case. “What tools do you need?” I asked.
“A fine knife.”
Before I could get up, Black Owl grasped my wrist and gasped for breath. “No, Wind Talker. Both of us... know...”
As a cop, I had seen many families take heroic measures only to put their loved ones through needless suffering. I swore to myself that if such a situation ever occurred in my own family I would be stronger. Black Owl had made his wishes known. I intertwined my index finger with his, letting him know that I would honor his request.
A slight smile appeared on his lips. “I shall tell your mother...” He coughed up blood.
Phoebe held him and whispered words of comfort until his coughing spasm halted. Sadness lingered in her eyes, but she was doing the job she had trained a lifetime for. How foolish I had been to think she could have been a twenty-first-century nurse. I touched her arm. “I’ll see him through to the afterlife,” I said.
“Both of us shall.”
We positioned ourselves on each side of Black Owl. His eyes rolled up in his head, and his muscles quivered. A death spasm. Bleeding from the wound increased, and Phoebe pressed the already saturated cloth to it. When the spasm halted, a euphoric grin crossed Black Owl’s face. “Your mother... she calls to me.”
His muscles quivered as another spasm captured him. I stayed by his side, waiting for him to be taken. But I had witnessed death far too many times. It was rarely that simple. While his body writhed, I spoke to him about growing up in the twentieth century, my life as a cop, and finally when Phoebe had joined me. Every so often the spasms let him rest, and he would tell me of his life with my mother. “Once on... a hunting trip... I broke my leg. The kwiocosuk and... your mother made me whole again...”
Finally, his muscles relaxed, and the wind blew gently at my back. For the first time, I could hear its words clearly. Like time, death was merely another dimension. “Let the wind carry you, Nows.”
Black Owl’s breaths grew short, and his pulse fluttered to a halt. His eyes opened in the sightlessness of death.
We had journeyed too far to return Black Owl’s body to his native land, so we buried him in the spot where his skeleton would be unearthed approximately 370 years later—for a renovation project. I took comfort that my future self would contact the Virgina Council on Indians to make certain that he would receive a proper reburial. My only regret was that I had never discovered which tribe had taken him, or where they had made his final resting place.
As was tradition, Phoebe smudged her face to look black and wailed. My brothers sang. Numbness spread throughout me, but a crow cawed and I looked to the sky. Two more flew over the grave. They perched in the trees near us, calling the entire time. Soon, a dozen or more flew toward us. Was I dreaming? I pointed to the flock, and the others admitted to seeing the birds.
The group perched in the branches. They cawed for a while, then one flew in front of the others, like it had taken center stage, and gave a shrill call. The others grew silent, and the lead bird made sounds as if giving a speech. The pattern continued until another crow flew forward. Four more birds took their turns. When they finished, all but one flew off. The remaining crow cawed constantly. Instead of the usual high-spirited ringing caws, these sounds were raspy and descended in pitch. Finally the last bird flew away.
Uncertain what I had witnessed, I inquired to the others.
“Isn’t the crow your guardian?” Charging Bear asked. “They joined you in your moment of need.”
A funeral? I had once read about “crow funerals,” but at the time, I had believed it was nothing more than a myth. The birds had come to pay their respects and eulogize Black Owl. I faced the east and held my hands out with my palms facing up. I had much to learn, but I was thankful. Black Owl’s sacrifice would not be in vain. For the first time in my life I said a real prayer—a silent one to Ahone.
When I finished, I placed my arm over Phoebe’s shoulder. “Let’s find Heather.”