We rushed toward them as they rushed toward us, and met them in the middle of the longhouse floor. Glooscap tried to step in between the reunion, but when Poowasan hollered in Sawnay, he backed off. We began hugging one another excitedly, the swirling tempest of worry we’d been feeling for hours quickly subsiding. We were so caught up in our jubilation at learning the others were alive––and hadn’t been snatched and devoured by giant birds, or lost somewhere in that vast prehistoric forest––that we carried on for minutes.
Conroy looked able on crutches, his face no longer pale and tense, but full of color and warmth. Anna and Simon looked well too, no longer covered in mud, lost in an air of shell shock. They all seemed revitalized. Although it had only been several hours, it seemed like they’d had an opportunity to rest and recuperate from the landslide as well as the shock of awakening to find out they were on another world, far, far away from everything they’d ever known, everything they’d ever cherished.
“Can’t believe you guys are here,” said Simon.
“We had no idea what happened to you,” I said.
“These monster birds dove and started snatching deer,” said Tabby, her hands imitating wings.
“I know—we saw them right before the Sawnay took us into the forest,” said Anna.
“Crazy, crazy place, man. The stuff we seen,” said Colby. “Tell them ’bout the unicorns. Just like in the stories.”
“Unicorns? Like real unicorns?” said Anna.
“Yeah, all white. Big horn coming out the head,” said Colby excitedly.
“Cool,” said Simon.
“The important thing is we’re all together and safe,” said Conroy, hugging his nieces together. “We’ll figure things out tomorrow––it’s so good to see you three. We didn’t want to leave, but Glooscap promised us he’d go back for you as soon as we were safe.”
“Didn’t seem so friendly when he first came up on us,” said Colby, glaring at Glooscap.
“We followed the trail along the river,” I said. “Then Glooscap found us.”
“I take it Anna’s phone didn’t get any reception?” said Conroy.
Before the last words left his mouth, I knew that Anna’s iPhone was no longer in my pocket. I couldn’t recall how long it had been since I’d last checked for it. With all the action, excitement, and worry, I’d totally forgotten that I’d been carrying it in my pocket. Maybe I’d lost it on the bluff when I leapt into the trees or as I dropped through the boughs, or maybe as we hustled down the mountain. I had no idea. Then I remembered the text messages, and couldn’t help but glance at Anna’s stomach, only to not find any obvious bulge in the shadows.
“No, there wasn’t––I think I lost it on the mountain,” I said guiltily.
Anna waved her hand as though it was no big deal. “I sort of needed an excuse to buy a new one anyhow.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” said Simon. “I don’t see there being any Best Buys around here.”
“At least we ain’t gonna die listening to her crappy retro,” said Colby, and he fist-bumped Simon.
“Come sit by the fire,” said Poowasan calmly.
We were still huddled in a small circle, focused on one another, closed off from everything that wasn’t us, like we were holding on to that moment to make sure it was real, like some comforting dream that we didn’t want to wake up from.
“Let’s have a seat,” said Conroy, nodding toward the fire. Together we headed over to the firepit where we began to sit down on those hide cushions. Simon and I took a hold of Conroy’s arms and lowered him down so that his legs were kicked out in front of him, the crutches at his side. They were made from tree branches, the actual crutch sections were Ys, wrapped in hide. Anna sat down on his right, Tabby on his left. Simon, Colby, and then me only an arm’s length from Glixtan.
Glooscap told us the names of the other two Indians when they sat down on the remaining two cushions: Chubby was actually Broden, and Skinny was Cawop. I got the feeling the three of them were tight. We formed an unbroken human ring around the firepit, and with this, the circle seemed smaller, more intimate. Having all the seats filled somehow brought us all closer together under the roof of that longhouse, and I no longer felt tiny. The tension eased for the first time since our short-lived respite at the river, but even that was different. Here, there was no possibility of wild animals––either earthly or alien––attacking us. There was no chance of us being caught out in the cold or foul weather. We were warm, safe. All together.
“Thank you for bringing us here, Poowasan,” said Conroy. “You did as you said, and I’m grateful for your hospitality and the medical attention you and your people have given us.” I hadn’t noticed at first, but Conroy’s leg had been re-splinted. By the firelight I could see a bandage of some type covering the wound, and his eye was no longer as red as it had been. And Anna’s eye. It wasn’t swollen shut anymore.
Glixtan stood. Without his walking stick, he hobbled over to Simon. He shut his eyes and spoke in Sawnay, reaching for a pouch on his hip. Praying quietly, he opened the pouch. He placed his finger inside, then touched it to Simon’s forehead and made little circular motions, leaving an ochre-colored powder on his skin. Simon’s eyes closed as he sat there unmoving.
When Glixtan finished, he went to Colby and performed the same treatment. Then he came to me. He stared into my eyes before placing his finger against my skin. The powder smelled like rich soil. A tingling sensation began to spread across my forehead, stronger with every circle, slowly washing down my neck and into my chest and back, even out to my arms and down my legs. All the muscles in my body twitched and tingled, the ache in my knee dissipated. It was one of the strangest experiences that I’d ever had. I didn’t know how long it went on for, but when I opened my eyes, Glixtan had already sat back down on his cushion to the right of me. He spoke in Sawnay, dumping powder from his pouch into his hand. Then he tossed it into the fire. Flames crackled and shot to life, launching sparks up through the opening in the ceiling, as if a ferocious gust of wind had blown through the door. The blast of heat caused us newcomers to lean back from the fire, and caused the Sawnay to erupt in good-natured laughter.
Poowasan spoke to Glooscap, who then stood up and left the longhouse. I remained silent––deep in thought––my mind replaying the day’s events: the landslide; Carol’s death; the hike to the bluff; the attack of the giant birds; discovering Conroy and the girls missing; the trek into the forest; the river with its flying fish and the encounter with the unicorns; the hypnotic light show; and finally our capture.
To me it felt like it had all happened days ago, when in reality it’d been merely hours. And then those events changed to questions: Where were we? Who really were these people? What had happened to us? And what would happen tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that? Or was this entire thing all a dream? Would I awake in a few minutes back at Halton House––on Earth––Simon in the bed next to me, mumbling in his sleep like he always did in the early morning? Or would I awake back in my bed at Whispering Cedars, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting in through the crack of my door? There’d be country music playing on the radio in the kitchen, my mother humming along as she prepared breakfast just the way we liked it––crispy bacon, golden hash browns, and sunny-side-up eggs. Was I in the midst of the longest dream I’d ever had? Or maybe a coma? Had I been dreaming for days or weeks or maybe even months? I tried to remember if I’d crashed a dirt bike, spilled from a horse, or been in a car accident. Was I still trapped in the Halton House van unconscious? Was I dead?
There was a draft of air and the flames wavered. A long line of Sawnay men and women began to enter, some carrying baskets woven out of bark and others bloated skins like wineskins. Some had bundles of furs and other articles with them. There had to have been around twenty people of all ages file into the longhouse before the fur dropped again, leaving the inside feeling much smaller, not uncomfortable smaller, but closer and cosier. The newcomers started to sit down in an outer circle around us, setting down the items that they’d brought in with them.
One middle-aged, round-faced woman, smiling warmly, set two baskets down in front of us. She gestured her hand to her mouth, like she was eating from it. Inside one basket there was a medley of berries, and in the other were long strips of dried meat the length of my hand.
A girl with a long braid, really pretty, handed Conroy one of the skins. He took it from her, swished it side to side, pulled the plug from the nipple and sniffed the contents. Beaming, she urged, with nods and hand gestures, for Conroy to drink up. He lifted the nipple to his lips, tilted the skin back, and took a long drink. The woman and girl cooed with delight. And it was then I noticed how much they resembled each other, so much so I thought they might’ve been sisters, or maybe mother and daughter.
My stomach growled loudly. Simon turned and whispered: “Think it’s safe?”
“My stomach says yes,” I whispered back.
“Good enough for me,” said Colby, and he reached into the basket for a handful of berries, which he started wolfing down.
Simon and Conroy went straight for the strips of meat and began to scarf away. I waited until Anna and Tabby had both taken some berries, before I scooped a handful. They exploded in my mouth—sweet, succulent, refreshing. I devoured handful after handful, placating my growling stomach. Anna passed me the skin, the plug dangling by a strip of hide. I washed down the berries with two long gulps of a juice-like liquid that tasted and smelled somewhat like dandelions. After a few swigs, I passed it to Simon. Then it struck me––I’d been so caught up stuffing my face that I’d forgotten about our hosts. I glanced around the longhouse at the round dusky faces glowing in the firelight. All the Sawnay were staring at us. I stopped and wiped juice from my chin, focused on Poowasan, wondering if we’d been disrespectful without even knowing it.
Poowasan spoke loudly: “The food was brought for all of us.”
Conroy and the others paused in the middle of what they were doing and looked up. A long, awkward silence followed, longer and more awkward than most. Then Poowasan slapped his thighs merrily, roaring with laughter, and all the other Sawnay joined in. Conroy started laughing. Then the rest of us burst out, until everyone in the longhouse was in an uproar of laughter that carried on and on and on. Despite all that had happened, we were there together, sharing pure human laughter, the deep-down kind. It was unforced, totally natural. The kind that made your sides hurt. The kind you never wanted to stop for nothing. The kind I hadn’t experienced since Whispering Cedars. And I didn’t want it to end. I wanted it to go on and on until I couldn’t laugh any longer, and it did. It went on for minutes before dying down. For the first time, in a long time, I was completely laughed out.
When it finally subsided, the longhouse was calmer, as though everyone needed time to recover, leaving the mood lighter, more open and friendlier. That was how good it was. Even Glooscap’s fierce eyes had changed to something much softer. He no longer looked like he was spoiling for a fight, like he was carrying around an anger that needed to be purged. One of the newcomers then produced a large shell with smoldering, aromatic contents. He carried a feather and brushed everyone down with the cedary smoke.
“Smudge,” said Simon, and nodded when it came to my turn. “To clean your spirit.”
Poowasan spoke in Sawnay to the newcomers. There was movement in the shadows. Some of them began to don heavy furs and colorful masks and pick up the other items that they’d brought in, as if they were actors preparing for a show.
One Sawnay man suddenly sprang to his feet and entered the innermost circle, wearing a mask of white, red, black, and yellow on which had been painted friendly eyes and a mouth. In his hand, he carried a large hoop, six feet across, made from thin braided branches that had been intertwined. He began to circle the fire with a side step, waving the hoop back and forth above his head, chanting a song. A man and woman got up and joined in behind the hoop dancer, both young and fur-caped.
They all danced—moving in a wild, primitive way, strangely hypnotizing—raising first their arms and then their knees, bouncing on the balls of their feet. As they circled the fire, the chanting––high and upbeat—grew louder. The other Sawnay began to join in until the entire longhouse resonated with song.
Poowasan spoke loudly to be heard over everyone: “The Sawnay lived for fifty generations on Mother Earth. We lived in harmony with the Grass People, the Tree People, the Animals, the Rock People, and Mother Earth. We cared for her children, and her children grew strong and learned to look deep within themselves for answers to the greatest mysteries, the mysteries that make us who we are.”
The chanting lowered until it was barely audible above the lick and crackle of the flames, remaining that way until Poowasan continued speaking, at which time the chanting grew louder again: “The grandfathers spoke to our shamans through dreams, dreams that foretold the coming storm of sickness and death, brought by people from across the Great Water who would come in winged ships.”
Two more men entered the innermost circle, holding triangle frames above their heads with hides tightly stretched across them like sails.
Poowasan continued: “We knew many people would die of sickness. We knew we would never see our children or their children grow. We knew we would be stripped from our land as the winter strips the trees of their leaves. Our people made the choice to leave Mother Earth and return to the origin of all life––World of Dawn.”
The hoop dancer who was leading the others stopped circling the fire and rested the bottom of the hoop on the ground. The young man and woman stopped near the hoop. When the sailing ships got close, they bounded through the hoop and dashed from the circle into the shadows. Before the ships could pursue them, the hoop dancer lifted the hoop and whirled it around overhead. Then he followed the others into the shadows.
The Sawnay erupted triumphantly in yips and shouts while the two sailing ships circled around the fire aimlessly. Another man and woman entered the circle, wearing masks of black and white on which had been painted frowning eyes and mouths. A different chanting began, a different song, low and deep, sad and mournful.
The sailing ships caught up to the man and woman, and they all mingled in a cluster.
“Other people,” said Poowasan, “did not listen to the warnings from the grandfathers. Death came in the form of gifts. Their way of life became the way of fear, the way of hate and war, the way of a white-skinned people from across the Great Water.”
The remaining dancers circled slowly one more time, and then rejoined the others in the outer ring. The chanting slowly faded until the fire was the only sound left.
The Sawnay had left Earth through some kind of portal that brought them here, to this world––World of Dawn––where we’d ended up somehow. But unlike the Sawnay, we’d come unintentionally. Had my companions understood the performance, the story, the message it conveyed, what it meant for us?
Poowasan’s glowing face looked much older in the dying amber firelight, as if what he’d shared had somehow aged him.
“How do we get home?” I said.
Poowasan didn’t answer my question, nor did he answer the dozen other questions that followed from the others. He simply and calmly said that the night was not meant for such talk. It was meant for the Sawnay to welcome their guests. The fire was fed with logs. The flames roared to life. More Sawnay entered the longhouse, bringing with them berries and dried fish and meat, which was passed around and shared with everyone. Everyone ate from the same baskets, drank from the same skins; all the while people gave life to song with voices, rattles, and hand drums.
Once in a while, a Sawnay would enter the inner circle and dance and sing solo. At one point, one of the young Sawnay women pointed at Anna’s Gucci purse. Anna passed it around. They examined it with sniffs and squeezes. One young man even bit the strap a few times, and then gave a nod of approval. She had to say the word Gucci a dozen times until everyone could repeat it. Oddly, the Sawnay men took the most liking to the purse, with its Gucci label done in rhinestones, especially Cawop who seemed entranced by the way it glimmered in the firelight.
Much later in the night, after it quieted down and the flames shrank, Glooscap shared the story of how they’d found Conroy and the girls. Then he went on to share how they’d found us three at the river, and how he’d heard Colby’s fear about being eaten, and then how―in English―he told Colby that he preferred fish and berries. Everyone laughed, and, yes, even Colby.
By the time people began to filter out of the longhouse, well into the night, my eyes were heavy and sore, my body stiffer than if I’d spent a weekend on horseback counting cattle up in Montana’s high country. My thoughts slipped away and vanished before I could hold onto any of them, dog-tired as I was.
Tabby and Anna were curled up on either side of their uncle. Simon and Colby had already laid down and wrapped themselves in heavy black furs that had been brought in for us by the Sawnay. Everyone felt safe, secure, and comfortable in the sanctuary of the longhouse, it seemed.
Poowasan stood for the first time since our arrival and rounded the dying fire, coming toward me.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling like I should say something. “We’d be lost if Glooscap hadn’t found us.”
Smiling warmly, Poowasan said, “How can you be lost, Tanner, when you know where you are?” With that, he stepped around Colby and Simon and left the longhouse without a whisper of sound, not even when he went through the door.
I got up and lay down on one of the furs behind me and stretched out. I covered myself up, shutting my eyes, feeling the warmth radiating from the red-hot coals. It was just like those nights out on the Montana range, when the world seemed so open and free.
Then I was asleep.