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On a plenilune night, amid ghostly luminescence, Awinita the Deer-Footed crept near the tent of the Shriveled One. Was she who lived in the tent a Raven Mocker, a bringer of death? She looked like one, but a person could never tell. The Deer-Footed hoped to get a clue by harkening outside the Shriveled One’s tent, but she would have to be so incredibly quiet, for she believed the Shriveled One had preternaturally acute hearing. Inola the Shriveled One could make Awinita die if she caught her snooping around, and then that for which she had prayed to the Great Spirit would be brought to an ignominious close.
Yes, she would lose her chance at being a spirit walker, a great medicine woman, even now, just as her twenty-year apprenticeship was only twenty-two hours from being completed. She knew almost all the 400 herbs in which the Great One had schooled her, and she had mastered the arts of achieving health of the entire person and true harmony with the Great Spirit. She was ready, oh, she was ready! So, she trod stealthily, fearful that the bright moon would expose her to Inola. Fortunately, she was in the shadow of the oak trees near Inola’s tent; now, the Shriveled One could not see her in the flooding moonlight.
The Shriveled One’s form was illumined through the walls of the tent by an oil lamp. What is she doing? thought Awinita. The Shriveled One was gesticulating wildly, merely a shadow inside the tent, waving its arms like one gone mad. What did it mean? As she watched, Awinita grew mortally afraid. Was Inola casting a spell? On me? she thought. Thinking thus, she all at once began retreating, full of foreboding, to the safety of her own tent. Her heart was beating madly even as she closed the flap of her tent behind her and began considering with all her hungering mind what she had seen.
***
AWINITA AWOKE WITH the sun shining through the walls of her tent, making her hot and uncomfortable. For a moment, she thought the Shriveled One had cast a spell on her. Then she realized she was only hot and thirsty. In the next second, she thought of her mother, the reason for her suspicions of Inola. Oh! I must go check on my mother! She is so sick!
Quickly, she picked up her gourd dipper and went to the spring, where she knelt and splashed water on her face before drinking deeply from the dipper. Then she filled the dipper to the brim and hurried to her mother’s tent, but her mother was not there!
She then saw Unaduti walking toward her. “Unaduti! Unaduti! Do you know what happened to my mother, Unaduti?” she called.
Unaduti hurried over. “She was very hot and feverish and was feeling very bad, Deer-Footed One. They moved her over there, under the shade of those pine trees. Over yonder, don’t you see? There are two people with her.”
“Oh, thank you, Unaduti!” she said, then began hurrying to her mother, trying not to spill the water from the dipper. As she approached, she saw that Rayetayah and Tayanita were standing over her mother.
“Tayanita,” she said, “how is my mother?”
“Not good, not good, Awinita. The Raven Mocker must be nearby.”
Awinita looked down at her mother. So weak! So ill! “Mother, can you sit up? I’ve brought water for you, my Forest Water,” she said, trying to make her voice encouraging.
Mother smiled wanly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Rayetayah, can you help me up?”
Rayetayah bent quickly and lifted Amadahy to a sitting position. Awinita bent at the waist and fed her mother water.
“Enough! Enough! I can’t drink much, daughter. I am so sick. I think I am dying.”
Awinita could not hide her distress. Her hands flew to her face as she emitted a low moan.
Amadahy only said, “Rayetayah, help me lie down.”
He did so.
Awinita dropped to her knees beside her mother. “Mother, Mother, I’ll bring the Great One to prescribe for you.”
“He was here, daughter. He recommended goldenseal and saltbush. I took it, but I feel worse and worse.”
Awinita felt anguish. Her mother looked so old! Only days ago, she was a thriving woman. Was there no hope? She wrung her hands, then stood up. She looked wildly around as if seeking help from anywhere. Then she saw her, the Shriveled One, seventy yards away. Suddenly, a violent anger took hold of Awinita, and she found herself running toward Inola. As she approached, she yelled, “Are you a Raven Mocker, Inola?”
The Shriveled One, unperturbed, had watched without expression as Awinita ran toward her. Now, with equal calm and gravity, she said, “No, Awinita. I’m not the reason your mother is dying. But I can cure her.”
“I wouldn’t let you near my mother, you black fox! You’re not even a black fox—you’re a black raven!”
“No, dear. My name means black fox, but I am neither fox nor raven. I am only an old woman with magic powers.” Inola continued to gaze at Awinita as calmly as a sculptured lynx.
“Magic powers? Magic powers! I knew it—you are a Raven Mocker!”
“If you cannot be civil, dear, this conversation is at an end,” Inola said.
Awinita stared at Inola in high rage. “You are making my mother die!” she roared.
“No, but if you will let me, I can make her as good as new.”
The Deer-Footed One did not know what to do. Perhaps she should tell the Great One or the chief.
Inola gave her a look of great kindness. “Think about what I’ve said to you, dear,” she said. “You want your mother to get well, don’t you?”
Awinita had never felt so baffled. She heard a high wailing, and for a moment, she wondered where it was coming from, before realizing with shock and shame that it was coming from herself. She clamped her mouth shut, spun on her heels, and fled Inola as fast as she could go. She ran and ran until her side hurt. Then she fell on the ground and prayed to the Great Spirit to tell her what to do.
At last, gasping for breath, she thought, My mother must get well. She must get well! She rose, her jaw set, and began walking to the house of Chief Oconostota, who did not live in a tent, but in a log cabin. She would speak to the chief, that great, great warrior for good.
***
THE CHIEF WAS STANDING outside his cabin, dignified and tranquil.
Awinita rushed up to him. “Oh, warrior of Chota,” she said, “I have something to tell you!”
“What is that, Awinita?”
“Inola is a Raven Mocker!”
Chief Oconostota closed his eyes for a moment, then regarded Awinita with tranquility for a full thirty seconds. Finally, he spoke. “No, little one, Inola is not a Raven Mocker,” he said.
Awinita’s protest stuck in her throat. There was something in the chief’s manner that expressed complete and utter finality. What could she do? Why wouldn’t he believe her? She cringed before the chief’s authority, yet drew herself up.
“Chief Oconostota, why won’t you believe me? She is a Raven Mocker, I tell you! She does magic.”
“There are all kinds of magic, little one. Let it rest. She is not making your mother die. There is a time for everyone to go to the Great Spirit.” He regarded her with infinite kindness.
“No!” she said. “I cannot let my mother die. She is still young! It is not her time!”
“Perhaps not, Awinita. Only the spirits can tell,” he said.
She stared at the chief in a great huff of indignation, then struck the air with her fists and left him. She stomped across the sward. Her mind was in an uproar of frustration and anger. She couldn’t even think.
Then, she saw them. The Great One, Gawonii, was conversing with the Shriveled One. She stopped still, completely unnerved. She stared and could not believe her eyes. They seemed to be friends! Friends! Was the whole tribe crazy? Did no one know Inola was a Raven Mocker? The Chief did not know, Gawonii the Great One did not know, and even her sick mother did not know. Had the Shriveled One put a spell on them all?
Her mother! She must check on her mother! Forest Water could have died while Awinita was indicting Inola. Amadahy was a perfect name for her mother, for she was a healing spirit, a draught of cool water for the fevers of life. She could not let her mother die. She turned from the sight of the chief and Inola and raced to her mother.
***
RAYETAYAH WAS STILL with her mother.
“Rayetayah, how is my mother?” Awinita said.
He put his finger to his lips and said quietly, “The same. She is sleeping.”
Awinita looked closely at Rayetayah. “You are a kind man, my friend,” she said. “Patient and kind.”
Rayetayah was embarrassed; he blushed and shrugged his shoulders clumsily.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she said.
He looked away in shame.
Awinita turned her gaze to her mother. Amadahy stirred but did not wake. She moved restlessly for a moment, then sighed and fell back into a deep sleep. Oh, she was so weak and suddenly so old.
That is my mother who is so sick! Awinita thought. Inola was killing her! She must do something to stop this old woman! Forgetting Rayetayah, she said aloud, “She is a Raven Mocker, and I’m going to prove it.” She turned abruptly and began running to the Great One’s tent.
As she approached the great man, however, she was waylaid by misgivings. He was smoking his pipe and standing next to the dappled gray-and-white pony that he never rode. He treated it as a pet, as one would a favorite dog. He was stroking the pony’s nose and speaking gently to it, and Awinita could not help but think of the appropriateness of the Great One’s name, which meant “he is speaking.” How grand, that one whose words were heeded so well should be named Gawonii! Thinking of these things, her mission to him seemed to her the height of presumptuousness, yet she clamped her jaw tight and walked up to him boldly.
“Gawonii, I have a bone of contention to chew with you,” she said. “Why are you friends with that terrible Inola, that Raven Mocker? Can’t you see that she is killing my mother?”
Gawonii turned to face her, and his eyes were smoldering with rage. “Never call her that again!” he said. “You are acting foolishly, unworthy of the years I have spent teaching you the ways of our medicine! You know not the damage you can do with this rumor-mongering! Stop it now, or I will call upon the Great Spirit to stop you!”
Awinita was dumbstruck. Never had the Great One been angry with her before. For a moment, she did not know what in the world to do. Then she found her tongue. “But great Gawonii,” she said, “she admits that she does magic!”
“Not does magic! Has magic powers. There is a difference. I have never known her to do a bad thing. Stop spreading these lies. Chief Oconostota told me you came to him with this defamation! Who else have you told? Do you know what a mob is?” The Great One was getting angrier and angrier.
“Do you mean I could start a mob?”
“What do you think I meant?”
Now Awinita was beginning to feel very bad. She remembered the story her mother had told her of how the mob of white men beat her father to death and hanged him from a tree when she was only two. This story had always hung over Awinita like a dark cloud, dampening her spirits when she thought of how she was deprived of a father. It had played a big role in causing her to want to be a spirit walker. As she thought of this, tears sprang to her eyes, and she wavered before Gawonii’s authority.
“Now, Awinita, your name means fawn. Act like a young deer and be harmless. Do not go spreading lies,” the Great One said. “Inola is a fine woman. She was once a great spirit walker. The Cherokee Nation is lucky to have her.”
Stunned, Awinita the Deer-Footed tried one last time to rally her spirits and reply to Gawonii, but the words died on her tongue. She felt a great torrent of tears coming, so rather than let the Great One see her crying, she turned suddenly and began walking away.
“Remember, no more lies,” Gawonii called after her.
***
AWINITA WAS THIRTY-six now; she had been sixteen when she embarked on her journey in the lore of a spirit walker. She felt she had lived much and learned more in these heady years since, but now she was frustrated utterly by a Gordian knot that she did not understand. Why could no one see what was as clear to the Deer-Footed as the creases in the palm of her hand? What could she do? She could see that the Great One was right. She could stir up a mob to hunt Inola down and kill her, murder her, mangle her ... but that would be horrible beyond expression, a transgression against the Great Spirit for which she could never forgive herself. Were her hands tied? Was there nothing she could do? She looked down from the hummock where she stood toward the pines among which they were caring for her mother. A great sadness swept over her. Then, dejectedly, she began walking to check on her mother.
As she arrived at her mother’s side, she asked Tayanita, “How is she?”
“Worse, Deer-Footed One. I’m so sorry. I am praying to the Great Spirit.”
Awinita looked down at her mother. She was pale, her face drawn, her body weak and helpless. It looked as though death was near. Awinita’s soul rebelled with all its might. This could not be. Her mother must not die!
She must do something about the Shriveled One. Spirit walker, indeed! But what? She had gone over it in her mind over and over again. There was nothing she could do without inciting a mob. No! she thought. I cannot accept this! I will talk to Gawonii again! She began striding back to the Great One’s tent.
When the Great One saw her coming, he drew himself up tall. He threw his pipe on the ground in anger. “I see you are back to speak lies again,” he said. “I will talk to the Great Spirit. I will ask that you not have success in your walk!”
Awinita burst into bitter tears.
***
SHE WAS IN HER TENT with night coming on. Never had she felt so alone, so isolated, and so cut off from the communal life of her tribe. A feeling of great sorrow had stolen over her. Only a half-hour ago, she had helped put her mother to bed in her tent and had to bear, like a burden on her heart, the likelihood that her mother would die. Now she fretted ineffectually over what to do. The tension of the day and the sorrow that had settled in her heart made her weary and sleepy. The drone of cicadas sounded like the voice of death.
Then it was daylight, and she knew another night had gone by. She leapt up. Again, she splashed her face with spring water and filled her gourd dipper with water. Then she hurried to her mother’s. As she arrived, they were taking Amadahy on a litter from her tent to the shade. Awinita drew close to look. Her mother’s arms were thin and white as milk, her pale fingers were the hue of the grave, and her breathing was labored and low. Despair overtook Awinita. She followed the litter to the pines, where they settled her mother gently on the ground. Her mother could not move on her own, not even to lift her hand. She could barely draw a breath. She looked as if she would die with each passing second.
Awinita could not bear another moment. She turned and began running blindly. She hardly knew where she was going. Finally, she grew exhausted from running. She stopped completely and caught her breath. Then she continued, but walking laboriously now, slowly getting her bearings. That was when she saw it. Someone was writhing on the ground, down the side of a drop-off. The figure seemed in terrible pain. Why, it was Inola! She was holding her right leg with one hand. Was this a trick? Was the Shriveled One trying to lure Awinita to her doom? But Inola looked so weak and tortured! She looked as helpless as a newborn baby. Or as my mother! Awinita thought.
“Oh! I must help!” escaped from her mouth. She scrambled down the side of the embankment. “What happened?” she said.
“I’ve broken my leg,” Inola said.
Awinita quickly examined where Inola was holding her leg. Yes, it was broken. This was horrible! Inola was old and weak. How would she survive with a broken leg? I must act, and quickly! Awinita thought.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Inola, then scrambled up the embankment and began hurrying to her tent. She did not even pause to wonder from whence came the energy that made her go so fast.
Upon arriving at her tent, she got a roll of tape, a roll of gauze, a roll of strong, thin rope, and two yards of cotton cloth. She put them all in a big sack. Then she hurried back to Inola, who seemed in the last degree of misery by the time she got there. She worked fast. Inola shrieked as she reset the bone. She wrapped the leg thoroughly in clean gauze, then taped the gauze tightly in place. Finally, she wrapped the leg well in the cotton cloth and tied it securely in place with strong, thin rope. She had doctored Inola as well as she could in this situation. It had worked; Inola no longer writhed in pain, but lay back on the ground in repose, trying to breathe herself back into a state of calm.
“How ever did you hurt yourself, Inola?” Awinita said.
“I was trying to go down the hill to pick blackberries, and I fell.”
“You should be so careful, Inola,” the Deer-Footed said. “We live in the mountains, you know, and you are old and brittle.”
“I confess that you have schooled me. Imagine that, a child like you taking an old woman like me to school.”
“Strange that you think I’m a child. I’m thirty-six.”
“Child, I have seen over a hundred winter solstices. You would think I would know better ... My dear, what tiny feet you have! They’re hardly bigger than those of a two-year-old.”
Awinita looked down at the tiny feet that had given her the name Deer-Footed. She had always been proud of her feet and her nickname. She blushed. “Yes, they are small,” she said. “How am I going to get you up the hill? Oh, I know! I’ll go find Unaduti! He’s strong, very strong. I’ll be right back, Inola.”
It took her fifteen minutes to find Unaduti. “Hurry,” she told him. “We need to get her home and refreshed.”
In no time at all, Unaduti was carrying Inola up the hill. When they got her to her tent, Unaduti said, “Now, Inola, I’ll go make you a good walking staff.”
When he was gone, Inola said, “So now you don’t think I’m a Raven Mocker?”
Awinita was stupefied. She had forgotten all about the question. She blushed crimson. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered.
“You still don’t know?”
Awinita could not speak. A suspicion raised its head. Had this old woman hurt herself to throw Awinita off the scent? Was pain of no moment to her if it worked to deceive? Perhaps she was a Raven Mocker after all. “Why were you flailing your arms in your tent the other night?”
Inola’s jaw dropped. “Were you spying on me, Deer-Footed One? I see it; you were spying.” Her face registered disappointment and hurt. “Why do you distrust me so, young one?”
“My mother is dying.”
“I told you I can cure her.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why were you gesticulating?”
“If you will not rest without knowing, I am old and weak. An Angel of Death visits me every night and tries to take my life. I have to fight him off. It is hard work.”
Awinita stared at the Shriveled One in astonishment. This was more than her mind could believe. She abruptly stood up and said, “I have to go.”
***
SHE WALKED UP THE ESCARPMENT deep in thought, so deep she did not see Gawonii until he spoke to her.
“I heard what you did for Inola. That was worthy of my teachings,” he said, startling her out of her wits. Besides surprise, so conflicted were her feelings that she could not speak.
“Come,” the Great One said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Wake up. You’re a full-fledged spirit walker now. You shouldn’t be a mute all at once.”
She stared at Gawonii. “I am? When—”
“Did you lose track of time? Your apprenticeship cup is full. You became a spirit walker last night and have proven yourself today. Rejoice. You can now walk proudly in the way of our teachings.”
“Last night ... yes, yes, I forgot. My mother is sick, I was worried about Inola, and I forgot everything,” she said. “Oh, thank you, Great One. Thank you for all you’ve done. I’ve looked forward to this day my entire life!”
“You’ve earned it, Deer-Footed One. Fortunately, you have let go of this Raven Mocker foolishness. You could have done a great deal of harm.”
Now Awinita really did not know what to say. Her mind was still in turmoil. At last, she stammered, “I—I see.”
“Good! Stick to the path of our fathers. They would never brook fomenting strife.” Then, saying farewell, the Great One walked away.
He left Awinita in deep perplexity. She groped for mental and emotional leverage on the doubt he had fostered in her. She wished to cast it out but could not. She had all but decided Inola was deceiving her and was, after all, a Raven Mocker, a bringer of death. Now she was crucified by doubt and indecision. It troubled her greatly that Gawonii said Inola was once a great medicine woman. Inola was 107 years old; when Awinita began her apprenticeship twenty years ago, Inola would no longer have been practicing the ways of a spirit walker. However, the Deer-Footed was nagged by vague memories of the Shriveled One’s reputation. This was so vexing!
Her mother’s deathbed called to her. She must go to her mother forthwith. She hurried to the pine grove. Oh, how the sight of her mother struck fear and grief in her heart! The poor thing was shrunken, wan, and limp. How could she possibly get well? Awinita knew no arts to revive her darling mother, and neither did the Great One. Rayetayah said he had been there earlier and had rubbed an ointment into Amadahy’s arms and neck, but it did nothing to stop her decline. Awinita gazed at her mother in deep sorrow, searching her mind and soul for an answer. Then a thought struck her with the power of a thousand warriors—Inola could cure her mother! Inola could bring her back from the edge of the grave. Inola, Inola, Inola! She must see Inola.
She stood outside Inola’s tent and called to her. “Inola! May I come in? Inola!”
From inside the tent came a tremulous voice. “Yes, dear, of course you may,” it said.
As soon as Awinita entered the tent, she said, “I trust you, Inola,” then burst into tears.
“You poor thing,” Inola said from where she lay on her cot. “Come here, dear. Let me comfort you.”
“Oh, Inola, there is only one thing from which I could derive comfort!”
“Then, dear, hand me the staff Unaduti made me, and help me up,” Inola said.
Awinita had handed Inola the staff and helped her out of the tent when Inola said, “You can let go, dear. I can walk now.”
Inola was slow, as slow as a lowly slug. Awinita worried and worried that they would not arrive in time. Eventually, they reached her mother, and Awinita was heartbroken at the sight of her Forest Water. An appalling dissolution proved the utter hopelessness of any efforts to revive her mother.
Oh, we are too late! thought Awinita. “My mother is dead, dead!” she said aloud.
“No, not dead, dear, just very ill,” Inola said. Then, the Shriveled One, with Awinita’s help, lay on her side next to Amadahy and laid her hands upon her.
Immediately, there was a change. The grasses and the tree branches began to wave as though a strong wind was blowing through them, but Awinita felt no breeze on her cheek. Then, it was as if a colossal bird soared overhead and extinguished the sun.
The Deer-Footed One cried out in surprise and fear as total darkness took away her sight. “Oh, no, no, no! What have you done?” she cried.
No sooner had she gotten these words out than an intense light, so intense that it was like another night and blinded Awinita even more, surrounded their deathwatch like a cocoon. Then Inola spoke, and Awinita was surprised at how weak and tremulous her voice was.
“Put your hands on me, Awinita, dear,” Inola said.
Awinita tried to obey. She got on her knees and began groping for Inola in the dark. It took a long moment for her to find Inola, but as soon as she laid her hands on the poor, weak Shriveled One, she could see. She could see! What was this? Her mother stirred. The hues of life flushed up into her cheeks, her neck, her arms. Awinita glanced at Inola. The poor, weak thing was trembling with effort, but she refused to remove her hands from Amadahy.
Oh, this is very hard for her! the Deer-Footed thought. Dear, dear, dear, she is the greatest of spirit walkers.
She transferred her gaze to her mother. Was the glow of health really returning to those cheeks? Was her mother rallying? But in the next instant, hope was dashed; a more profound pallor than before drew the lifeblood from Amadahy’s countenance, and her body went stiff. What was this? Inola seemed infused with new strength, and she tightened her hold on Amadahy.
Immediately, another change occurred. Amadahy flailed about restlessly, still weak, but moving. Awinita thought that she heard the hushed footsteps of many people treading on the forest floor, but she saw no one. Then she noticed that Inola was getting weaker, but still clung desperately to Awinita’s mother. As she did, Amadahy opened her eyes. She had stopped moving. She did not move at all. Inola clung to Forest Water with what seemed a kind of resolute despair.
What was this? Amadahy’s features had lost the imprint of the grave; they were waxing youthful. As they did, the invisible footsteps grew louder and quicker. Awinita watched her mother. Was she imagining this? Mother seemed almost a young girl. Now the footsteps were stomping the ground, as if in a merry dance. Mother grew stronger, but as she did, Inola grew weaker; she could barely keep her hands gripping Mother.
Then, once again, it was as if the colossal bird had soared between them and the sun, and all was dark as death. This darkness remained for an intolerably long moment, but then lifted at last. When it did, Amadahy rose from the litter, radiant, lovely, strong, and vibrant, thirty-six years old once again, the same age as her own daughter! Awinita came near to fainting as her mother embraced her. The world swam. Wait! She must thank Inola!
She turned to look for the Shriveled One, but there was no one to thank. Oh! She ran to Inola and fell onto her knees, feeling the limp and motionless old one for signs of life. No, no! Inola was dead! The Shriveled One had sacrificed her life for Awinita’s mother and taught the Deer-Footed One a profound lesson of being a spirit walker. Do not be hasty to judge others, for only the Great Spirit knows their heart. Awinita felt that her apprenticeship was finally complete.