SOLOMON
THE LATE-DAY SUN sagged toward horizon. Soon Theo would open church doors after ladies played their games; shouting, laughing in basement. My body was tired from searching for waking phantoms on Neahkahnie, even more tired from talk, talk, talking of this small child, Tula May. Her mother wanders lost, under a dark cloud—gone seven days now. Like ashen seagull whose bill stained red by blood of Wild Woman, she was scarred by bad deeds of another; could not get free from poison. There was no help for the mother. The child did not know this yet.
“There,” Tula May said as she laced Eagle feather into my hair. “I put feathers in your braid.” Her hand, size of sparrow, patted my shoulder like my own daughter once did. “When I grow up I want my hair to be long like yours—except soft, like girl hair, not boy hair. Can we dance now?”
I stared at the trees, waiting for drums of my elders. They did not come.
“South Wind blow energy into my spirit,” I whispered, then stood. Ruby wanted me to stay, help Tula before crossing over to next world, but I was tired. My Wolf remained faithful guide. He was tired, too. He waited patiently for our last journey.
Tula May jumped up, raised arms high in air, and asked, “Is this how?”
She circled church’s garden pond, flailing like baby bird who struggles to fly.
“Yes,” I said. “Very good. Duh-HOOTS-nuh.”
The pines swayed above; their branches touched, waking Ancient Ones. Drums whispered from far away. A car sped down alley. Tula May stopped and looked up. Then her face fell to earth. She waited for her mother’s stolen spirit to return. It would not. The stain was too deep; she was gone into darkness. The Great Spirit breath finally filled my lungs.
“As you dance,” I said, standing, “call all the world’s creatures to surround you and aid your vision quest.” I reached tall, outstretched my arms. The drums grew louder, filled my aging timbers. I felt eyes of Ancient Ones—Ruby’s eyes. Many summers passed since I smelled rose petals in her hair. Even then, her scent filled me. I took deep breath. She was close.
We circled pond like a tribal fire. Ruby urged me to teach Tula May, as she had done seventy years ago when she begged me to teach our own, now-departed children.
“Send forth voice from mind,” I said, pointing to the sky. “See sound beams travel out through the winds . . . through everlasting time . . . Feel wings brush against your body.” I moved my arms like eagle’s wings. “Do you sense presence of animal powers yet?”
“I . . . I don’t think so.” Her arms, color of white seashells, drooped. “Maybe.” She struggled to lift them higher.
“Hold arms closer to body . . . Your spirit power maybe is not bird.”
Her eyes fixed on me.
“Listen,” I said. We circled pond, my arms spread wide, she small, but steady. “Listen to hear Birdsong, howling Wolves, Horses neighing, scream of mountain Cougar—all sounds of South Wind’s animal kingdom. Listen, little one, listen.”
Old Osprey chirped its short whistles, swooped through courtyard, joining dance. Theo, in black robes, watched from doorway. Shadows draped courtyard of stone place of worship.
“I hear them!” Tula May’s spirit eyes glowed. “I hear them.”
We kept moving. Ancient drums rumbled in my chest, I smelled the smoky fires of long ago, felt and saw one hundred Ancient Ones dancing with us. “As you move in circle,” I said, “surrounded by animal powers, watch your dancing footsteps change. Be alert. Watch your hands and arms.” The drums in my soul thundered. “You will slowly see change, from deep inside. It shows in your way of dance.”
She curved her back, bowed forward, leaning low. Weaved footsteps around pond; intentional and strong.
“Movements,” I said, “are traits of your animal, whose presence you will now feel.”
“I feel something,” she whispered, her round face serious. She moved with cautious steps, fixed on her dance, watching her bare feet and hands. “I feel something!” Excitement spread across her face. “I tingle!”
“Duh-HOOTS-nuh! Good girl! Now, when animal fully climb into you, let it celebrate in your spirit for while.” My old arms grew weary of eagle wings. “Now, stop dancing,” I said and collapsed arms to my sides. The Ancient Ones fell silent and vanished. “Stand still now. Let breathing be slow and rhythmic once again. Close eyes.” We stood next to pond, panting. I closed my eyes and faced vanishing horizon where Wolf stared back—his dark eyes, razor sharp, gazed into mine. He looked into my soul. His deep breathing echoed inside me. Then he turned and walked path ahead of me. He, too, is old. His back hunched, his hair matted. He limps from too many battles. We are same.
“Welcome your animal into your soul. This animal will be friend—guide on journeys and when troubles come. Each animal has unique medicine. Their gift to you.” My Wolf paused on path, looked back at me. He is ready to go home, but he waits. “Our tide is coming,” I told him in my mind. Ts-ull-ULL-leel, my friend. He knew it was Ruby’s mother spirit wanting to help white child. I told him when I am finished, we two warriors take final journey. I opened my eyes.
Tula May’s eyes also opened, burning with joyfulness. Her face sparkled, sweaty. It was good dance. “Solomon,” she said. Stretched out her arms and wiggled her fingers, looking at them like they were new. “I think my animal is . . . is a mouse.”
I looked up from my haze. My Wolf disappeared into mist.
“Hmm?” What could small grey animal do to save child? “Mouse is good,” I said. “Mouse runs and hides very well.” So this is the power the Ancients feel she will soon need.
Tula May smiled at me like my young ones did long ago.
“Yes,” she nodded with great motion. “A mouse named Nancy Little Feet.”
“Duh-HOOTS-nuh. Mouse is great travel spirit. Very good!” Smell of Imogene’s blackberry pie found me. “We take Nancy Little Feet to have pie now.”
Theo smiled, motioned her to enter room where Rounders have pie after he speaks from pedestal. I let go of Tula May’s hand, nodded to him. He handed me whole pie.
I walked alley along side of church to my hut; Ruby’s dark eyes looked down on me. Scent of her hair filled my spirit. My time was short. Soon Tula May, Nancy Little Feet, must go her path alone.