The first thing Echohawk was aware of was the sharp ache inside his skull, as though someone had punched him in the brain. Then came the voice.
“Don’t try to talk or open your eyes just yet,” someone said. By the tone it was a woman. She sounded far away, yet also strangely near, as though she was whispering into his ear. “Your senses have been scrambled. You’re suffering from synesthesia. Listen to the sound of my voice and it will pass in a few minutes.”
Echohawk knew what she said was true. The feel of the earth against his hands and face was the smell of lemon rinds and asparagus. The taste of the air shot a thousand colors into his brain, colors humans would never be able to see with the primitive eyes they had. And the voice was the feel of soft chamois against his skin, soothing and peaceful.
He did as he was told and listened, the words a brush of butterfly wings against his ears.
“Your family would not like you hunting us.” The woman sounded like his aunt but she spoke of ‘us’ as though she were part of something other than the Potawatomi tribe. “They have been our protectors for two thousand years. You should be with them against the others who hunt us, hunt us because they are afraid. You are not afraid, but confused all these years about us. Confused by a hurt that did not happen. You are a child of the forest, of the sky and the blue water. You are cousin to the eagle, brother of the deer and son of the black bear. You are a true human. You must remember who you really are and then you will once more be on the right path.”
Echohawk felt the meaning of the words, not just as a lilting sound but as a guide, drawing him out of the tangled mess of his ruined senses. Each word was a step on the road to the place where his senses operated normally again. Who was this woman who talked to him as though she were a member of the tribe and yet not a member. He had to find out. He opened his eyes to slits. Earth and sky whirled around him, solidified and became a still image. He could see.
The world shifted from confused odors and colors to the beauty of the forest. He recognized the spruce and maples. He smelled the soft scent of pine and the rich aroma of the earth. The scratch of fallen leaves against his face and hands was a welcome touch. Then he saw the Bigfoot. It squatted ten feet away and stared at him with preternatural awareness in its liquid brown eyes. The rest of its bear-like face was cocked to one side as if studying him.”
“You’re not surprised,” she said.
Echohawk reached for his pistol but the Bigfoot held it in a four-fingered hand, twirling it as if it were a strange toy. Echohawk eased himself into a sitting position. His senses had unscrambled but his muscles still felt weak.
The Bigfoot said, “You would have killed your companion with this. And you would try to kill me. Why?”
“You’re dangerous,” he answered. “Yes, and I’m aware of the mind games you can play with humans.”
“And yet, you are the one hunting my kind.” The Bigfoot seemed to smile. “I was told one of your great scientist said, ‘Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood.’”
“That’s been my motto since I was a teenager,” Ecohawk said in surprise.
“Now it’s time for you to help us find out what our true purpose is on this planet.”
“I know what you are. A Windigo – an evil, man-eating spirit. You are here to crush humanity. I don’t believe you are our brothers of the forest as our legends say. And you’re not human.”
“You’ve known this since you were little. I once healed you when you were dying from Lyme disease.”
“I don’t believe you, you killed my grandfather,” Echohawk spat.
The Bigfoot looked genuinely puzzled. “Is this the source of your hatred toward us?”
The question surprised Echohawk because the words seemed to tear at an old wound scabbed over by anger and he knew the answer even as the wound opened up completely inside of him and his feelings poured out. “Yes,” he said in a strangled voice. “It was the beginning of my hatred of your kind”
“See, you knew we existed.”
“Of course! Everybody in our family knew.”
“We did not hurt your grandfather. A member of our clan found him dying in these woods. His heart had given out and there was nothing she could do for him. She stayed with him so he would not die alone, then she buried him and put stones upon his grave so the carrion eaters could not get at him. He was in death like the warrior he was in life. I can show you the spot. His final resting place is near the portal you and the other human found today.”
The Bigfoot stood. “Come. I will take you there.”
Ecohawk felt his resistance melting “I don’t know that I can walk,” he said.
“It is not far, the way we travel.” The bear-faced creature reached out a four-fingered hand and helped him to stand. Then gently lifted him over her shoulder. “This way,” she said and dashed through a screen of trees into the forest.