SOLOMON
MANZANITA CLINGS to southern slope of Neahkahnie. As we climbed, ocean’s waters hurled against its steep cliffs and flew skyward like ghosts of white doves.
Tula groaned, “Solomon, are we there yet?”
“Come, Little Mouse.” I took her hand. We hiked higher than before.
Down the trail’s edge, winds had curved and shaped madrones and pines along cliff, just as Tula would soon be shaped by angry storm upon us. The climb was hard for her. But time was close when she would need to run farther, faster, and higher than dark spirit who will follow. I smelled fresh blackberries, knelt down and felt path.
“Child,” I whispered. “When you climb, look for prints like these . . . If pine needles are settled on print, it is old. If not, it is fresh, like this one. Bear is close.” She stared at bear print. “Come.” I ushered her to hide in bushes. We listened for bear sounds.
“Okay,” I said. “We go now.”
In blue sky above, two young, foolish falcons tried to attack eagle. Eagle’s talons stretched out, ready to strike them down. They would not survive.
“Over there,” I said. “We will draw on spirit power.” I pointed to grassland that sloped to open field surrounded by ancient trees. “This Nehalem place is sacred.”
“Sacred?” Tula asked, reaching into her pouch for her tablet and pencil.
“Yes, sacred. Elk feel safe in open space. Once, my people hid in trees, waiting for elk to walk into meadow.” I pointed to the center of the field. “And then, an arrow through its heart.”
“Ew!” Tula scrunched her face.
“They cut elk open,” I said, “on ground where it died. They set its spirit free and gave thanks to elk for nourishment, then sanctified ground where great elk fell.”
“San-c-t-i—?”
“Blessed.”
“I don’t understand those words.”
“It is special place. Holy,” I said. In trees ahead, leaves rustled. “Sh!”
A mother deer and fawn entered path ahead. We stood motionless. She looked at us, then to open field. Wise Mother smelled us, decided to forgo fresh grasses. She and fawn pranced into ancient Sitka trees where forest floor was dark, full of hiding places, shadows, and secrets. Wise Mother.
“Are you gonna shoot her in the heart?” Tula asked.
“No,” I said. “It is wrong to kill mother and harm child. Come.” I motioned to the clearing and handed her a small blanket. She carefully placed it. I took herb medicine from my pouch. “Here, draw circle around you and bless circle with sage.”
Tula stood from blanket and shook sage branch around edges.
“Like that?” she asked.
“Duh-HOOTS-nuh.”
She sat, legs crossed. I sat on grass next to her and said, “Take in deep breath.”
We both breathed in Great Grandfather’s quiet breeze. “Get comfortable,” I said. “Take another deep breath. Inhale . . . exhale deeply.”
She breathed in, then out. Her eyes watched me.
“Chase away shadows of fear,” I said. “Close eyes. Begin dream of this place like forest trail, bubbling mountain stream, or this grass-and-flower-covered glen. In your mind, hold violas in your hand, smell Mother Ocean, hear her birds sing to you.”
Tula’s speckled face broadened with a wide smile. Her eyes, though closed, moved beneath her lids, conjuring images. If she learned to go to this place, her spirit would be safe from what my dreams say will follow. Her body will mend if seed of safe place is planted within her.
“Now,” I said, closing my eyes. “Move about in this world, seeing, smelling, and feeling everything. Sit quietly. Begin your journey into spirit world with prayer. Continue with meditation. Soon, you will hear something—you will see a creature slowly coming to you. Is it your mouse?”
“Yes,” Tula whispered. “It’s Nancy Little Feet.”
“Duh-HOOTS-nuh. Now, keep eyes closed. Be open to what magic lesson, what wisdom Nancy Little Feet brings you. Listen with whole heart.” A twig snapped somewhere behind us. I opened my eyes. It was mother deer wondering what we were up to. Tula sat motionless, eyes closed, gazing into herself.
I closed my eyes. Soon my wolf appeared to me. I know, I said to him in my mind. Our time is short.